Creating Space

School. Packing suitcases. Unpacking boxes. Meeting vendors to fix this or install that. Get this done so that can be finished. Run here. Run there.  Oh, do you really need lunch? Right now? Hurry, hurry.

Now, hear me when I say I am SO very thankful for these things to do. I am. They are good things, productive things, helpful things. But during this time of rush I am so very thankful for the timely reminder to stop. Reflect. Pray. Give thanks.

We didn't go to an Ash Wednesday service this year and that's okay. Nothing says that we have to have or attend these services. On the flip side nothing says that we can't. I find it a lovely addition to life in the rhythm of the church calendar. A reminder that God is in the business of death and resurrection.

I digress...

In the crazy of moving our Lenten wreath made its appearance on the kitchen counter. Creating space for it took work but it was intentional. It made me think of creating space in life and my heart to be filled by Jesus. He poured out His life for His people. Be filled. It was good to have this reminder. My girls squealed when I brought it out, "Easter is coming!" I didn't prompt them. I said nothing. It was good to have this reminder.

So, we pray. We talk. We read. We reflect on the ministry of Jesus. We give thanks.

We anticipate.

Pat's Run

Two years ago a day like this last Saturday would never have crossed my mind.  Never.  Husband and I had started to run so I could start losing the baby weight and help deal with stress of losing my dad a few months prior.  About two weeks in I broke my leg.  A stress fracture of serious proportions and I was subsequently diagnosed with osteopenia (the precursor to osteoporosis.)

What a crazy time.

I was just trying to heal, build bone mass back up, and gain confidence not only in myself but also in the bones that carry me along.

Finally, this last January I had enough.  I had to start doing something.  I was the heaviest I had been. Ever. Time do something about it. For my family is nothing else.  So, I started walking (Husband was still running and doing SO well) and we changed how we ate.  Good thing started happening. Husband ran in the Pat's Run  (4.2 miles) last year and wanted to do it again.  He encouraged me to do it, too.

I was scared.  For so many reasons.  But finally I said I would do it and stepped up my time working out.

My goal going into the run was to NOT have 20 minute miles.  Most of my workouts I averaged a 15-17 minute mile so I felt pretty good going into the race.  Husband and I started together but because he runs I knew I would just find him at the finish line. It was a good challenge. Husband beat his goal time of 40 minutes by 2 minutes!  I was so proud of him.  I finished in 1 hour and 7 minutes. YAY!!  I was pretty excited and may even attempt to do it again next year.

Our kids want to do the kids run next year.  That will be fun.  

The Brain is a Curious Thing or The Morning We Called 911

Wednesday morning started like any other morning. Or so I thought.  About 10 minutes after getting out of bed my vision became blurry, I was dizzy, and as I tried to say any words they wouldn't come. My husband was in the shower and I had to communicate my distress to him so I tried the best I could to say something and my failed attempts at communicating anything of significance alarmed my husband. I layed back in bed and Husband called 911.  The thoughts of a possible stroke ran though both of our minds. I kept trying to tell Husband about the alarm in the house but I could only call it the "thing" and he had to turn it off.  The things we think of in crisis, right?

The paramedics came bounding in rather quickly and started asking me questions.  I started crying because I knew the answers to their questions but could not actually say the words to answer them. For example, they asked if I knew where I was.  I did.  I knew that I was in my house but I could NOT say the word house.  However, I COULD say the numbers in my address.  Go figure.  My language started to come back to me after awhile as the paramedics checked to see if I was currently having a stroke or heart attack.  I passed their tests but they gave me the option of either taking a ride in an ambulance to the ER or get in to my primary as soon as possible.  I opted for the later.

My children were not scared during this time but found it fascinating that the fire department was in our house.  The girls informed them that our neighbor was a firefighter which one of the men tending to me actually knew.  They took the girls out into the truck let them climb around and let the siren go once.  If our neighbors were hoping to enjoy sleeping in over Spring Break that was the morning it was NOT going to happen.  HA!

I was able to get in to see a nurse practitioner at Mayo Clinic (where my primary doctor is) and given orders for a complete blood work panel and an MRI of my head and neck that was completed on Thursday evening.  This morning (Friday) I was called and told that everything came back clear but they are going to send my MRI and reports over to the neurology department for a consult.

So, what does all this mean?  Well, we know that I didn't have a stroke.  I could have had a TIA (read about that here) or a possible seizure.  Yes, you can have a seizure and be fully conscious. Now we wait to hear more from the doctors and hope that the symptoms do not occur again.  I am so thankful for my husband who did not hesitate because all of my physical symptoms were that of a stroke, while rare in thirty-six year olds, are not unheard of.  I was pretty worn out after everything and I had a pretty normal day today but still tired.  It's hard to fully know if small things I experience are connected to my episode or not.  I am trying to be "normal" but also observant of what is happening with my body.

Microwave & Bed Buddies

We have been using our microwave a lot lately.

No, not necessiarily for food.  I try to limit that.  But all of a sudden our microwave seems to be getting a lot of use.

Why, you ask?

Bed buddies.

Bed buddies?

Yes. These little rice filled cloth bags, made by my mother-in-law, are popped into the microwave for whatever amount of time you need to get it to the right temperature. (A bit over a minute for little people so they don't burn themselves) Then you slide it to the bottom of the bed and it keeps your feet warm while you drift off to dream land.  Or if you are like Miss S you can just hold it and it will just keep you warm in general.  Sometimes I roll some essential oils over it after it comes out of the microwave... the girls love that.

So, one or two bags are usually warmed up at nap time...three when the girls go to bed...and then one or two when Husband and I go to bed.  And sometimes there is a request for one to be warmed up just for watching a movie.

That would be why our microwave is getting such use these days.

Toothfairy

Back in September Miss L lost her first tooth.  Miss L was playing with some plastic bracelet and put it in her mouth like a dog.  She got up to go do something in the bathroom when she tasted something, looked in the mirror, and blurted out her tooth was gone.  But she didn't know where the tooth was!  She was SO excited and SO scared all at the same time.  It was not what she thought losing a tooth would feel like.  Apparently Mom and Dad forgot to mention that there might be some blood.  Whoops!  Anyway, I retraced some footsteps and found her tooth in the living room where she had been playing.  YAY, Mom!  While we don't play the Santa "game" we have decided to play the Tooth Fairy game -- still not sure how I feel about it but whatever. She got $5 for the first lost tooth.

A week later, to the day, she lost her second tooth.

Not such a great story.  We had just finished swim lessons for the evening and as per tradition for this particular summer of lessons we head to Chick-fil-a for dinner as a family... grandparents, too.  Miss L traded in her toy from the kids meal for an ice cream cone.  She had been working on it for a bit and decided to share with Daddy.  I suddenly pulled the cone away from Husband because something looked funny.  Sure enough once I got the cone closer for inspection and then looked at Miss L she had lost the tooth!  Unfortunately, it was no where to be found. (I think she swallowed it) Even our favorite CFA employee pulled out a flashlight (on his smartphone) and helped us look all around under the table and booth. Nothing.  Miss L was devastated.  She wondered how the tooth fairy would find her.  We told her that Daddy had a special number to call.  Also, we had just read a Curious George book that talked about how lights would light up on firefighters maps (back in the day) from where the call came from or where the fire was. I told her that when a child loses a tooth the tooth fairy gets a message about a tooth being gone, etc.  The tooth fairy made her appearance and left her two gold dollar coins.  A little extra for the trauma.

Later we found out that Miss L had to have two teeth removed to help with the crowding issue in her mouth.  While it won't fix her orthodontic issues by any means it did help it a little.  Miss L received two 50-cent pieces for her teeth.

All of this reminds be of the great lengths in which my own dad did the tooth fairy (and Santa). While we don't want to go to such extremes with our kids it did bring me some happy memories.  My dad would have the ladies in the office at his work pen well thought out letters from the tooth fairy as I left her questions about her age and other such things that young minds inquire about.  But I also remember that I was usually left random denomination of money.  Things like the $2 bill, one dollar coins, 50-cent pieces.  I think that also helped me save the money, too.  They were so unique that I didn't want to spend them.  So, while the extravagant stories will not continue on with our children I think that the rare denominations of money will.  Although, we know that the $5 is not rare we just wanted the first to be fun and special.

Jesus on the cross..

On Wednesday, I started to read Miss L her Bible lesson for the day.  The title was something like, "The Sun Goes Dark."  Basically, it was the set up for Jesus going to Calvary, his crucifixion, and death.

She says, "Oh, I love this part!" in almost a giddy fashion.

A little disturbed by her excitement I ask, "Why do you like this part?  He is in so much pain and he dies."

"Oh, I know.  But it's the part where He takes our sins away!  That's the best part!"

Perspective.

I learn a lot from my children.

First Day of School

With the advent of Pinterest there are more than enough ideas on how to capture a child's first day of school no matter the grade.  I think I had grand imaginations of doing something sweet and memorable...but it didn't quite happen.  You see we started school the day after we returned from a short family vacation to Colorado.  I hesitated in putting the start of school there but I did it just the same.  I'll probably not do that again.  While the day went off without a hitch I was kind of stressed the night before.  The stress was in vain but there was more I needed wanted to do but did not.  I made a super simple sign on our white board  that said "First day of 1st" grade and set out all of her books and supplies in front of it.

But what happened next erased all thoughts of "it's just not enough"...

I had mostly forgotten that I had the sign on the table as I proceeded with the morning responsibilities of breakfast when all of a sudden I found myself wrapped up tightly in Miss L's arms.  I asked her what that was for and she pulled me to the table and excitedly giggled that it was the first day of 1st grade!  She was just excited to start school again.  Apparently our six week break was more than enough for her.

While we took pictures for the sake of prosperity they were not fancy.  It's not what she'll remember.  She'll remember the adventure of learning with her mom.  I hope she's that excited every year for school.  But more than anything I hope that she's that excited about learning for the rest of her life.

Cherished Conversations | Kindness from Wisdom

Today, when compared to other days, was an odd day for us.

We woke up much earlier than normal and took Daddy to the airport.  Saying good-bye is always hard but for Miss L it is the most difficult.  She's sensitive and she is so very attached to her daddy.  It's hard when he is gone even just for a few days.  It takes her awhile to recover.

We eat breakfast later than normal on these early morning adventures to the airport because we come back to a bagel shop near our house which is a treat for the girls and a good distraction.

As we were talking, laughing, and eating an older gentleman entered the door behind us.  I noticed Miss S wave to someone as did Miss A.  The gentleman came over and and said, "It's so nice when young ones want to engage with people rather than hide behind mama."  Let me clarify, my girls have those "hide behind mama" moments often but today they were feeling especially social.  He talked to each one of the girls and even listened to Miss S as she babbled a few coherent words and then a whole bunch of nonsense even though it was quite apparent it all made perfect sense to her.

Next, Miss L dove in and told him all about school and how she is finishing kindergarten and looking forward to first grade.  He made some comment to her that didn't quite apply to our homeschool environment (I don't remember what it was) and Miss L just said, "Oh, I'm homeschooled."  Without missing a beat or looking shocked he said, "Well, you'll probably get a better education that way!" and continued to talk to the girls about school and a whole host of other things.

I was floored.  I was NOT expecting that response at all.  BUT I was thankful for it.  People generally look at me like I have horns growing out of my head when I tell them we homeschool.  Others have a few curious questions and move on.  Few have ever had this kind of response unless they homeschool as well.

He was a kind man.  His kindness had an impact not only on my children but also on me.  I'm not trying to put down public schools but trying to remember the kindness of people that the Lord places in my path because it is easy to focus on the harsh words from people... I want to remember the kind words, too.

So, thank you, dear gentleman... you made this mama's hard morning a little easier.

Small Things | His Watch

It's Christmas eve.

We returned home from a family service with Husband's parents, dinner, and looking at lights.  Our hearts are light...but we are tired.  We are thankful all is ready for the morning.

Except the stockings.

I quickly located them in a bag.  I counted out seven big boot sacks.  I mention quickly that I am glad I didn't find my dad's thinking it was in a bag in another room.

Then his fell out onto the chair.  I notice it has some heft to it.  I reach in my arm recognizes the small flags that veteran organizations brought to him in hospice.  My hand seizes something metal and a wave of emotion and shock pulsate through my body.  I look at Husband and exclaim, "His watch!" and the fount of tears comes forth.  I cannot control it.  My girls watch in wonder as I hold the watch tight and Husband holds me tighter.  My oldest begins to cry, too.  Later my middle one says, "I'm gunna give you some love, okay?"  Sweet girls.

My dad was kind of obsessed with his watch.  He pretty much went batty when he didn't have it.  It was one of the first things he requested to have when he left the hospital.  However, he only wore it for a time while in hospice because it became too big for him.  However, it was always on his bedside or he would have it in his lap.

Oddly, the watch is still keeping time and the day is still correct.  The date is off but I think that came from the months with only 30 days and my dad would have to change it to the first when it read 31.

While the discovery was quite emotional...it was quite providential. Healing.  Welcome.

These Days are Marked

These days are marked for me.

They are marked with sweet joy of celebrating advent that leads to Christmas celebrations. Birthdays for two of my girls.  Decorations I love. Family Traditions. Family...

This year they are also marked with incredible Heartache. Loss. Memories.

Around this time last year we were celebrating my youngest's first year of life while facing the fact that my dad was finishing his last.

It all takes my breath away like it just happened.  The days... good and bad... play in my mind.  The pictures are blurred by tears that I cannot stop.

I miss my papa.  Every. Day.  Some days are extremely difficult.  Others are not so bad.  Most probably think that I am doing okay.  For the most part I am don't get me wrong.  On a lot of days I just want to sit and cry.  I have three little ones that distract me and need me to keep going.  My two older ones will randomly talk about him when I least expect it.  On some occasions it makes me laugh or smile and on others I fight back tears or they spill out.

Some people ask about him or how I am doing. Most do not. It's awkward for some. It's okay.  It's true...life is but a vapor and the grass remembers us no more.

It has been strange to not ponder over what gift to buy him this year as he seemed to have all that he wanted. Or he would tell me that what was on his list was far too expensive which generally meant that it was some firearm he wanted. HA!

My gift to him last year was a CD of hymns (he was listening to it when he passed.) In all the years I had with him I don't remember him being quite as grateful as he was for this one.  I can still see him mouthing the words "thank you." to me.  Maybe I'll pull it out sometime... maybe

Indeed, these days are marked.  Marked by hope that came as a little baby under the cover of night.  Hope that grew to be a man of stature and character that would pay the ultimate sacrifice of dying on a cross for my sins.  Hope that rose from the dead.  Hope that promises the resurrection of the body and life everlasting. That Hope is Jesus.  A Hope that Papa has...a Hope that I have.  In this I find great comfort...yes... and joy. Even in my tears.

Nature Walks

Miss A's Collection

 So, it's hot in Phoenix during the summer.  Right.  Everyone knows that.  You would know then that getting the motivation to go for a fun little walk to explore is utterly...impossible.

However, the last two months or so here in San Diego has afforded us the opportunity to still go on walks around our hotel and other places in the city.  I never realized until this time how much Miss A loves to be outside exploring and looking at every little thing.  She has sharp eyes and finds the oddest things.  Sticks, pine cones, snail shells, acorns, berries, etc.  She loves it.  I also noticed if she is having a hard day if you give her about fifteen minutes to walk around outside, run, and explore she is a much happier person.  Miss L could go either way and she is too finicky to start picking everything up.  It's funny to see their personality differences coming out more.

I recently posted this on Facebook:

"Abby is my outdoor explorer. Today's short expedition yielded acorns to add to her collection of pine cones, snail shells, and leaves."

A friend (Mr. Y) then posted later, "I knew a guy like that..."  Here he was referring to my dad, Miss A's Grandpa T.  I replied, "...maybe that would explain their special bond..."  To which he said, "Amen."

The next morning Miss A was playing with some linking cubes that we use for math.  She put them together and told her daddy, "I'm going out to shoot some birds!"  Yes, a deep bond indeed.  My husband and I just looked at each other in light of previous conversations about Miss A and my dad and busted up laughing. (For those that don't know my dad he was an AVID hunter all of his days.  Even if he didn't get anything he would just say, "Well, I just took my rifle out for a walk.")

Needless to say, I need to work on getting us all out of the house more to places where we can all explore and pick up rocks.  Thankfully, the winter in Phoenix is a perfect time to be doing this.

Honeysuckle, Creosote, and Trainsmoke | A Book

So, I finished my first book since my last post.  Actually, I finished it a few days ago and have started something else.  I find my desire to be on social media, playing games, etc dwindling a bit.  Mostly in the game department... I do like Facebook but I am not there nearly as much.  Good things.

I digress...

I read this book in memory of my dad.  The author was a classmate of his and I have met Mr. Cook on several occasions.  I still remember that Mr. Cook had a book signing in Albuquerque while my dad was out hunting.  My Aunt Dee took me to the store to have a book signed for my dad as a birthday present.  That was in 1990 and I am now the owner of that book.  Just opening the book to that inscription brought back sweet memories.  While there were parts that I didn't laugh at I remembered my dad laughing with tears running down his face, especially in the telling of the funeral story (it is pretty humorous).  However, there were other stories I was totally laughing and rereading to my husband.

The best way to describe this book would be as the roughed up, sometimes crass, but has a soft side uncle of "The Help."  This was a more vivid look into life in a north Louisiana town in the 1940's.  While some things were tragic and heart breaking, I know from stories of my dad's youth they are not far from the truth.

I have heard that Mr. Cook has a second book out and possibly a third in the works.  I will have to work my north Louisiana connections to find out as I cannot seem to find a second one listed online.

Reading this book made me think of stories of my dad's family and how I want to make sure that they are passed down to my girls.  I'll share them here when I have more time.  For now, I'll put a reminder to write about them soon.

On to more books...

Proud Mama | Church & Peers

While it's never good that a child is disobedient there is a process of training.  This last Sunday we got to see a glimpse into what is happening in Miss L's heart.

Miss L and her sister lost the privilege to go to the playground at church (they call it the "park") because their behavior was not, shall we say, sweet.  We understand their ages and have grace for that but this was a bit nutty.  We were staying later at church this particular Sunday for a meeting so off the two older ones went to a catechism class.  At the end of their class Miss L came to find me with tears in her eyes asking if she could now go to the playground.  Being Mom I wanted to find out the root of her tears.  She first said nothing and couldn't quite verbalize all that was going on.  I found her teachers and this is what they told me,

"She did really well in class and had no problems.  When we let the other kids out she just watched them and started to cry.  We thought maybe she had hurt herself but she just said she needed to go ask her mom."

I held back the tears.

She knew and she obeyed.

Sweet Miss L knew she was not supposed to go to the playground.  At just over four and a half years old she resisted the urge as she saw ALL the other kids run outside and start playing.  She came to find us to ask permission if she could now join her friends.  We praised her for making a good decision and for coming to ask us first... and of course for doing well in class.

We let her go play... And Miss A, too.

I think Miss L somehow had held Miss A back.  What a good big sister.  I was so, so proud of Miss L on this day.

I write this not to boast but to remember the glimpses of my girls "getting it."  I write mostly for us.  But be encouraged... the seeds you sow will start to grow.  It's beautiful.

RSV Happens

We drive by Phoenix Children's Hospital on a fairly regular basis.  We often comment that while we are glad that their care and expertise are available we hope that we never have to call on them for help.  Well, we did need their help this last weekend.  For those that keep up with us via this blog Miss S was hospitalized on Sunday with RSV and just came home yesterday.  Hence the absence from blogging at all over the last few days.  It's been a crazy time of back and forth to the hospital while grandparents in super hero fashion stepped up to watch Miss L and Miss A.  They made such sweet sacrifices of themselves to help us out in so many ways.  Our local church family is also blessing us with meals for a few days so we can get back on our feet.  Or should we have to go back to the hospital we are taken care of in the meals department.  So very thankful and humbled by the generosity of so many people.

The nurses and staff at PCH were phenomenal and we couldn't have asked for better care for our little girl.  We are also thankful for going in sooner rather than later because she could have been a lot worse had they not been able to do all the things that they did to support her tiny frame during this time.

RSV is kind of a random thing it seems.  It's basically a cold that older children and adults can handle quite well.  Babies have a hard time with it because their airways are so incredibly small that the slightest irritation, swelling, or whatever make it a very big and scary deal.  There are also a couple of different presentations of the virus that can make it hard to know whether you should go see a doctor or wait it out.  We learned a lot during this time.

We are thankful to be at home and on the healing side of things.

A Job By Any Other Name

Much of the world would agree that being a housekeeper is acceptable as long as you are not caring for your own home; treating men with attentive devotion would also be right as long as the man is the boss in an office and not your husband; caring for children would even be deemed heroic service for which presidential awards could be given as long as the children are someone else's and not your own.

(from Feminine Appeal, p. 102 - original source Dorothy Patterson, Where's Mom? p.21)

A friend posted this quote on Facebook awhile back and reminded me that we had read this in a book study a couple of years ago.  I pulled the book off the shelf and as I looked through my notes it made me want to read the book again.  Feminine Appeal outlines seven virtues of being a wife and mother.  It was an encouraging and convicting book in many areas.

However, what I like most is how Mahaney encourages women to battle and swat down the vicious lie that the world tells us in that staying home with our children is somehow an underachievement.  As though the world has any place to spew such hogwash.  Yes, it was hard getting used to putting homemaker in the occupation line on a plethora of medical forms.  What would they think?  That was my problem.  Worrying about what other people thought.  I wasn't too concerned about what my God thought.  I was questioning this role that He had clearly called me to fulfill.

I have not arrived in all areas of my new job.  I have been at this whole stay at home thing for almost six years now and it is by far the hardest job that I have ever undertaken.  I find a new joy in it each day with my girls.  I love loving my husband even when I fail miserably.  He is my best friend.  I find more and more that there are women who would love to be in my shoes.  They want to stay home but for whatever reason cannot. I have at least come from worry and anxiety when I fill in the occupation line to sheer joy and smiles when I write homemaker.  I don't need to write domestic engineer or any other silly moniker.  No, I am the keeper and maker of my home and I'm okay with that.

The sad thing is that the above quote is deeply true in society.  Sigh.  It's a sad state of affairs.  So, if you are a stay at home mom or wife... press on, dear one, in the work that the Lord has called you and throw to the side the clanging of society saying that you are not contributing to society or you are somehow an underachiever.  You are the strength of the next generation contributing in ways that are enormous but most will never see nor even remotely think to give a nod for a presidential award.

The Family Calendar

When I was in college, my brain and a fun planner were how I generally kept things straight.  When I started working with college students in my vocation I had electronic devices at my finger tips that let me know where I needed to be and when.  Oddly, I would default to paper when those electronic devices didn't deliver quite what I was looking for in a planner.  Then for the last four or five years I have gone back and forth trying to figure out what works best for me in tracking with our household.

A regular spiral bound planner didn't always work well for me because I wanted to see the whole month at one time and the need for it to be on the counter at all times so I could look at it when needed.

A wall calendar that I could put in a central location.  While that generally worked well I always had to find one that had large boxes.  Of course, it had to be pretty, too.  Those two requirements limited me... a lot!

My smart phone.  I know people LOVE this option.  Nope.  Not me.

Ultimately...

I am a paper girl.  Much to the chagrin of my all-things-electronic, software engineering husband.  I love how paper feels and looks.  Call me old fashioned, I'm okay with that.  I have learned to embrace my old soul.  I can usually remember things better in my noggin if I have actually written it down.  Sometimes, it takes more than once. ha!

So, what is the happy medium for this mama of three littles (two in diapers)?

I have found that a combination of Amy Knapp's Big Grid Family Organizer and my smart phone do a pretty good job...for now.

• It's big!  Plenty of space for me to write (and it's lined!)
• Extra space to write notes for the month.
• Designated area for dinner meal plan.
• It beings in August and goes to December of the following year -- plenty of space to plan ahead.
• It's pretty enough for the season that we are in and I can doodle if I am feeling really creative.
• Spiral bound so I can put it up and take it down as much as I like to update, etc with minimal wear and tear.

My smart phone acts as a reminder system for me.  I update it when new things go on the family calendar.  It's also helpful to have when we are out and so-and-so wants to know if we can do dinner or whatever on a particular evening.  I don't have to make room for a planner in my already full diaper bag... I just need to remember my phone.  My husband will tell you that is a feat in and of itself!  So, it's helpful in that regard.

I had it color coded for each person but my children like to abscond with my pens.  Even when I try to keep them in one particular place.  However, I admit sometimes I leave them in a wrong place from time to time.  Anyway, I think now I just go with what ever color I can find that pops.  I also keep this in my pantry.  It's the most central place for me and I can hide it, too!

I realize that I will have to do more specific meal planning for lunches in the near future when there are four of us to think about (5 on the weekends and for breakfast and dinner) and it will be harder to just pull it all together split second.  I will need to think through snacks items to have on hand, etc.  The calendar doesn't accommodate that now but I have some time to think through other options.  Meal plans significantly reduce my stress level for sure!

Anyway, things may will change and I am sure at some point and so will my style of planning.  Maybe.  I am looking at some other of Knapp's products to see if they fit with how things will change.

What do you use for a family calendar?

Miss L's 3rd Birthday

I had grand plans for the weekend of Miss L's birthday.  On Saturday, we were going to the mall to see one of her friends from church play some Christmas music in the with her dad. Then that evening we would head to the train park and let her ride the train through the light display.  Sunday, we would go to church and have a light lunch with family.  Then after naps we would do Miss L's favorite meal of chicken nuggets, mac & cheese, and broccoli salad (she like the dried cranberries).  The evening of celebration would be concluded with cake and presents.

Yeah.  None of that happened.  And the few things that did happen were not how we originally thought they would go.  HA!

Obviously, I had a baby that weekend instead.

Plan B.

Unfortunately, no one made it to church.  The whole family had a light lunch and cake.  More than ever I was glad that we ordered a cake rather than me trying to make one.  Miss L was delighted with Angelina Ballerina.  Thankfully, Miss L cannot read right now or she would have noticed that her name was misspelled on the side of the cake.  Two L's instead of one.  Oh well.  It still was yummy!  Then after all the excitement the girls took naps.

After naps everyone came down to the hospital.  This is when the Miss L and Miss A got their first glimpse of Miss S.  Then we headed down to my hospital room to really party it up and open Miss L's presents.  It was a fun time.  The nurses got a kick out of my little caravan.  Miss L told them about her sister and that it was her birthday.  It was pretty cute.  Miss L thought my bed was pretty fun and quickly discovered that the back of my bed produced presents.  Once we were done opening them she kept looking back there to see if more had magically appeared.

After all was said an done it was getting close to dinner time.  Honestly is was hard to see everyone leave that evening.  My oldest was turning three and my youngest had just entered the world.  It was a little surreal.  I think my heart was just ready for us all to be together under one roof.

I think it's a birthday party that I will definitely remember.

The Birth of Miss S - Part 2

You can read part one here.

We had already called Mom C to pack a bag and come over to the house.  I was in so much pain at this point I was ready for drugs and I made that known (nicely) to Husband.  However, I said, "We need to go NOW."  I was pretty sure this baby was going to be born in the car.  Mom C had yet to arrive.  I told Husband I didn't care we need to go.  He calmly said we couldn't just leave the girls even though they were fast asleep.  So, we waited in the van (I in the "trunk" area) until she was close by.  We passed by her on the way out and we were off.  My contractions seemed to slow down just a little but were still rather intense.  It was during this time that I wished our hospital wasn't quite so far away (20 minutes at regular speed...ahem)  Later I would be ever so glad that we were at this particular hospital.

When we arrived at the hospital around 11:10 PM the registration desk looked so far away.  No wheel chairs were close by and even if there had been one to use it may have been to painful to sit for very long.  To say that they processed me into triage quickly would be an understatement.  My one "Are you kidding me?" moment was when I walked back there they wanted to weigh me.  For real?  Of course I had a contraction while on the scale.  Anyway.  I get to my little bed, they check me... 7 cm and fully effaced.  I hear the nurse bark some commands about a room NOW and she didn't care where it was.  During this time I am telling them I want drugs.  They can't do anything for me yet because I hadn't had an IV.  Less than five minutes later I find myself in a L & D room with people zooming all around.  The resident checks me.  10 cm and fully effaced.  WHAT?!?!  I still want drugs people.  "Nope." They inform me, "You are having this baby naturally."  I laugh.

I push.

I cry yell.

I am NOT having this baby naturally.  I can barely control this pain unlike anything I ever felt.  My contractions slowed down a bit.  I think it was because there was a whole crew of people from the NICU in there because she was coming before 37 weeks.  Finally, my doctor says she's going to check something and it's going to hurt.  Um.  Yeah. Understatement.  I'm pretty sure I almost kicked her at that point.  I wasn't fully dilated after all.  When they checked me the second time Miss S was pushing down so hard that my water bag was bulging.  After they broke it something happened and a forebag was created hiding the last bit of cervix that needed to disappear.  That actually bought me some time to have an epidural.  YEAH!

It was just enough to take the edge off.  I still feel the contractions (there would be no sleeping through labor like I did with Miss A) and I knew she would be making her grand appearance soon.  They told me to let them know if I felt like pushing or the pressure increased.  It wasn't long after the epidural was in that I told them that things were changing.  They said the doctor was called to emergency surgery for an ectopic pregnancy and would come as soon as she was done.  They moved me into a more upright position to help get Miss S into position.  So, while I wait for the doctor each time I feel contractions... I push (not very hard.)  The doctor came back about 2 hours after I got my epidural and said lets see how you are doing.  They check and we are a 100% go this time around.  I steady myself for a possible hour of pushing (which is what I did with Miss A) -- to my great surprise 5 pushes and out she came!  It was now 2:31 AM, December 10 -- 6 1/2 hours -- about half the length of my last labor.  Once again they could not put my little bundle on my chest because she, too, had a short cord like Miss A.  Odd.  Miss S let out a little cry and once Husband cut the cord they whisked her over to be evaluated.

It was a long time.  All was quiet over there.  A little too quiet.  I called over to Husband but I don't think he heard me.  Finally, a nurse came and told me that little Miss S was having a hard time breathing and they were taking her to the NICU.  They let me touch her and see her for about two minutes and they were gone.  Husband went with her.  I remember crying and telling Husband, "I'm sorry."  I was sorry I couldn't keep her in longer.  While I know now there was nothing I could do, in that moment it felt like my fault.  I should have been able to keep her safe inside a little bit longer.  Our other girls had been early and no problems.  I naively thought she would be fine, too.

When all was said and done I was able to go down to the NICU (A branch of Phoenix Children's NICU - one of the best - is located on the same floor as L & D in this hospital) for about 20 minutes to see Miss S before I had to check in my room and with the nurses there.  Thankfully, Husband had already shown me pictures of what she looked like otherwise I think I would have just lost it with all the wires and tubes attached to her.

Miss S had a CPAP machine on her to force air in her lungs and cause them to really open up.  Gosh she did not like that thing.  Nurses called her, "feisty."  She also has a small tube that went down into her stomach to pull out stuff that may accumulate there as a by product of the CPAP and give her small amounts of nourishment.  They also wanted to be able to tell if she was digesting things well (which she wasn't for awhile because she was working so hard on breathing.)  She had an IV that was giving her some medicine that she needed and other nourishment.  Then there were all the "normal" wires for any baby in the NICU that check heart rate, breathing, and oxygen saturation.  It was pretty intense for me and my baby was not the sickest baby in NICU.  I couldn't even being to imagine what other mama's were experiencing.

So, now began my days of working on getting my milk to come in to help nourish Miss S while she was in there and not allowed to work on sucking.  Too much for her system to process.  This seemed like a daunting task as well given my not so great history in overall milk production.  Trips down to the NICU.  Healing. Checking in with my nurses from time to time.  Rest. Miss S made great progress -- breathing, then eating, some jaundice curbed.  I was discharged from the hospital on Monday (an interesting balance between time with Miss L and Miss A and being at the hospital) and Miss S finally was able to come home on Thursday evening.

She's doing better and seems to be thriving.  We are adjusting to being a family of five and thanking the Lord foe each sweet blessing and the extravagant love He shows to us through each one.

More thoughts and side stories of the NICU in the coming days/weeks.

This Is The Day

When you saw the title did the song go running through your head?

Several months ago when this song would be stuck in my head because we generally sing it at the preschool co-op that we attend it would drive me utterly bananas. BA.NA.NAS.  Miss L generally wants to sing it and Miss A grasps that when we sing this song we clap along.  To say the least, it is sung often around here.  I know that it is Scriptural and all...  but the repetition was wearing on me.  I think the Lord knew that I would need the repetition...

...to learn something.

The song now has a deep and sentimental meaning to me.  The Lord used the preschool song to minister to my heart during a time when I needed to be reminded that He was really in control.

When I was finally able to hold Miss S for the first time in the NICU the nurse said to make sure to talk to her about whatever or to sing to her.  We like to sing around here.  My husband is a wonderful singer... I, on the other hand, have a hard time carrying a tune on a silver plate.  But that doesn't generally stop me and I do have my moments of actually singing well.  Anyway.  Sing?  The first thing that came to mind was, This is the Day.  So, I started singing it to her and realized the deep theology (and extravagant LOVE) that was being imparted to me at that moment.  I choked through the rest of the words as I realized my own personal struggles with the current situation this was indeed the day that the Lord had made, had given to me, and I would rejoice in Him, that my baby was alive... I would choose to be glad.

That became our mantra of sorts.  I sang that song each morning that I came in to see Miss S and it really helped me to gain perspective on the day.  Our pastor came to visit one afternoon and I shared with him how the Lord had used this simple song to show Himself to me.  It felt childish in some way but so very significant in another.  You know... I was okay with that.

I realized the other day that I had stopped singing this song to Miss S when we got home.  I shall have to remedy that.

Sisterly Love

I am working on the birth story of Miss S -- it's taking me a little longer than I expected.  I may post in two parts.  We will see.  However, there are other parts of Miss S's (is that right?) arrival that I also wanted to make sure that I wrote down somewhere.

For those that don't know the story, here's a spoiler... Miss S had to spend 5 days in the NICU.  No big deal in the grand scheme of things.  A big deal when you are in the midst of it all.

Miss S arrived the day before Miss L's third birthday.  It kind of threw a wrench in some plans but what can you do?  (There will be a separate post on Miss L's birthday).  Anyway, we had been prepared mentally that the girls would not be able to come and see Miss S in the hospital or even me for that matter.  However, much to our sweet surprise not only were they able to come and see me they were also able to go see Miss S as long as they had not been sick in the last two weeks and did not currently have a fever.  We were good to go!!

Of course, our girls provided some sweet moments when they saw Miss S for the first time.  We were thankful at this point that Miss S had been taken off the CPAP machine that was helping her breathe and force her lungs to work a bit better.  It may have been too scary for them prior to that.

Miss L was excited to see Miss S and was excited to finally see her new sister.  However, when the nurse came in the room (and to anyone she would see after that) she informed her that her sister "is in a box."  It was pretty funny how matter-of-fact she was about Miss S living in a box.  I think she thought that she would always be in that box.

We were never sure how much Miss A understood the whole situation or that this baby would be coming home with us.  When she first saw Miss S she said, "Baby!"  Sweet girl.  She looked and kept saying, "Baby!"  Then finally she put her hand on the "box" and gave Miss S a kiss through the plastic.  It was the sweetest thing ever.