For some time now I've been struggling with who I am. Who am I? I thought I knew who I was when I was a senior in high school. I was outgoing and opinionated. I was a natural leader. I was comfortable being alone or being in a group. I believed I was smart and that I could change the world.
And then I got pregnant. And then I started college. And then I got married.
I was so ashamed of being pregnant. So I hid. I stopped going to church for three years. I didn't make friends. I refused to share my ideas and thoughts. Being pregnant made me feel like a joke. College made me feel stupid. Being married made me feel inadequate. Shame will do that to you. I no longer believed I could change the world. I lost my fire. I lost myself.
And then I made the decision to have another baby. And then Pam Flannigan invited me to church with love and encouragement. And then God was so faithful to me after Asher's death. And then I made friends.
For almost 6 years I've been grappling with who I am and with what I have to offer the world. About a week ago I realized that I no longer felt ashamed, although I didn't even realize what it was at first. But now, sitting here writing this I know. Shame has fallen away. I am comfortable with my past. My past can change the world if I let it. My ideas are important. My thoughts are good, I am smart. I walk with a pleasant dignity instead of hiding in the shadows.
Deciding to have another baby gave me back my power. Pam Flannagin helped me gain the faith to trust that people will accept me for me. God repaired my broken soul. My friends laughed with me and cried with me.
I am no longer struggling with who I am, I am comfortable with her. Myself, she is growing and changing still. I have my own issues that I have to work out over time, but they will not cripple me anymore. I may not change the whole world, but by God's grace and faithfulness I will change part of it.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
What I Didn't Expect
Eden is 4 months and 2 days old. I just called Nolan to tell him I'm sad. I'm still sad. When no one is looking I'm still sad. Everything makes me think of Asher. Every song. Every blade of grass. Every smile from my girls. Every time someone tells me how beautiful my children are. Every egg I eat. Every holiday. Every regular day. Every single thing. I am sad. But you won't see it. You won't see the sad. I don't want people knowing I'm still sad. So I'm gonna write a blog about it and post it on the internet so no one will know I'm still sad. Last night I sat on my porch, looking at the stars and weeping. I can't cry with people around. I don't want anyone, for one instant, to think I'm ungrateful for Vera or Eden. I am so in love with them. They make me laugh. They make my hair fall out. Sometimes they pull it out. Still I am sad. Today someone asked me how old Asher would be now. I said, "2, in November." This is my second year of living without my son. Will I be sad for the rest of my life? Will my eyes never be fully carefree and content with joy again? I can't imagine they will. But my days are more happy than sad usually. I guess I didn't expect to still feel this deep kind of grief a year and a half later.
Friday, March 2, 2012
The Joy of Eden; the story of the birth of Eden Constance Ritchie
Monday the 20th of February, 2012.
Over the previous 24 hours I worked very hard on letting go of my fears about my pending induction and let God's peace wash over me. Until that morning I didn't actually think I would need to be induced. I told everyone that I would go in at 41 weeks, and I meant it, but I didn't really believe it would come to that. And honestly, I was sure that if I just willed or prayed for it hard enough I would go into labor before the 40 week mark. When 40 weeks rolled around I began to think God had abandoned me. I thought maybe he had decided that my body was broken, but it wasn't he who thought that, it was me. I bought into Satan's lie and started to despair. Why didn't God answer my prayers? Why didn't he hear the prayers of our friends and family? I know there were a good 100 or more people surrounding us in prayer. And doesn't the Bible say that the prayers of a righteous man availeth much? But what was happening was so far beyond my comprehension that it will be difficult to tell about. The big picture is so big that only God could have contrived all the amazing events about to happen that night. Simply because God answers your request with a "No", does not mean that he doesn't have something much more grand prepared for you.
Sunday afternoon my Montrice (labor coach), Lori, called me. She said she had read my last blog and could see how scared and nervous I was about being induced. She reminded me that everything was going to be ok. She also told me that even if my head was doing well with working through Asher's death, that my body still remembered on a cellular level what had happened. That it was still working through post-tramatic stress. I had signs of early labor 3 different times for 6-10 hours in my 40th week of pregnancy but it always quit on me by the time I woke up in the morning. By the end of the week lack of good sleep and my frustration with my body caused me to chew my nails down to bleeding. She said that my body was trying to go into labor but it remembered the pain and grief from the last time. My body was protecting me the only way it knew how. She said she wanted me to work on letting go of the fear of induction and embrace it. And that induction might be Gods way of doing a great work in someone's life.
So that's just what I did. I let go of my fears. I was still nervous.... but I had a deep down sense that things were going to be just as they should. So I worked off my nervousness throughout the day Monday. I did several loads of laundry, went to the store, picked up the house and did other odd jobs. I would normally have been super tired by early evening, but my adrenaline was pumping hard. At 4 my mother-in-law showed up to get Vera. Our pastor also stopped by right at that time. He talked with us some and then we all had prayer. At 5 minutes till 5pm Nolan and I loaded up the car and made the 7 minute trip to the hospital. We parked and walked up to the labor and delivery unit where we learned that were were an hour early. But the nurses were cool about it and got us checked in all the same. They asked me tons of questions like "Do you have a living will??" - this one made me laugh. ---Hi, welcome to our hospital. You don't need to worry about a thing. By the way, do you have a will?? --- Anyway... So once they got me all set up my Dr. came in with the cervidil (it is a cervical ripening drug on a long string that is put up behind your cervix) around 6:45. After placing it he said I was 3cm dialated and that he wouldn't be surprised if the cervidil kicked me into labor right away. At 7pm the nursing staff switched and I got a new nurse. I didn't like her. She was pushy and said a few things that made me want to black her eye -but I've been told there are worse nurses?? So I'm not going to go into my distaste for her because it would be a waste of space. About an hour later I started having contractions, and by 8:15 I was starting to really work. Lori showed up right after Nolan and I both looked at each other and said that we hoped she got there soon. Lori worked with me through about 30mins of contractions. One would start and I would stand up, lean over the back of a rocking chair and sway. Moaning all the while. Sometime it was just a sound, and sometimes it was the word "Open" or "Down". In strong deep guttural tones that helped bring Eden down lower into my pelvis and open my cervix. In that time also called my midwife who I also wanted at my birth. I remember Lori telling her that my contractions were about 1 1/2 to 3 minutes apart and 2 minutes long. They were more irregular than normal contractions because of the cervidil.
My midwife showed up at some point and I remember being so glad she was there. A little while after she got there, she and Lori started having a conversation about girly stuff. I teased them, between contractions, saying that I was going to write that conversation on my blog. haha. About the time she showed up my nurse wanted to put my saline lock in my hand and start antibiotics (my GBS had come back positive so hospital likes to do antibiotics). I sat down in the rocking chair and tried to relax and focus on moving Eden down and opening my body up. The nurse went to work on my I.V., missing my vein in the first hand, it hurt like the devil. She got it in the second hand but couldn't manage to draw blood for hospital protocol. So that meant a 3rd stick in my arm for a blood draw. I was very frustrated with her at this point b/c I hate needles and getting stuck 3 times during contractions was making me loose my concentration. But there I sat, in the rocking chair all the while. Moaning, and sometimes crying out from the pain of the needle, which to me was worse than my contractions.
****I feel that I should mention here, I have been told by several people that Nurse Claw-hand wasn't actually as bad as I perceived her to be. And that there are some much worse nurses. That being said, I've had amazing nurses in the past and she had gigantic shoes to fill.****
After my blood draw was over the nurse was getting concerned about how close together the contractions were getting so she needed me to sit for 20mins to get a good reading on Eden's heart rate. Around 10:30 (I think, time starts to get fuzzy here) the nurse determined that the cervidil needed pulled b/c the contractions were too close together and Eden wasn't reacting to them well. A babies heart rate is supposed to vary, that is, go up and down with contractions and her's were not doing that. I remember getting up out of the chair and almost running to the bed (which was only a foot and a half away) and saying "Get it out!" So she used her giant sharp claws to dig around behind my cervix until she found the string and pulled it out. It hurt so bad, worse than a contraction. At the same time she said I was 6 cm which I was happy to learn. She also flushed my system with saline to help Eden and I got in a hands and knees position. As the cervidil was being pulled out it finally occurred to me that I must actually be in active labor, and that I was likely very close to transition. Until this point I was wondering when labor was REALLY going to start. My contractions had been so hard and painful with Asher that I expected them to be the same this time around.
After about 10 minutes Eden's heart rate was great again, and she had turned from her posterior position (her back to my back) to a better one with her belly facing my back. So Nurse Claw-hand rolled in the birthing tub and started filling it up. Because I was on the bed on my elbows and knees my arms began to get tired. I decided to lay down on my right side to rest for a bit. After laying there for just a little while I thought to myself "It's O.K. for my water to break now." About 12 seconds later I felt and heard a pop. My water broke. In the past my water breaking was almost as soft as a soap bubble bursting, but this time it was as if a heavy-duty water balloon popped. My mom, who was in the room (I have no idea when she got there??), later told me that she heard it. I said "I think my water just broke." My midwife checked to see if there was meconium (baby poop) in the amniotic fluid, but it was clean.
I got back on my hands and knees and I think Dr. Wonderful (he really was, this is not sarcasm) came in around this time. My butt was facing out into the room, and suddenly I started to hear a conversation about blue lines on my butt. I remembered Lori telling me during the birthing class I took almost 2 years ago, that there is a blue line that shows up on a woman's butt when she's in labor. You can tell approx how much she's dilated by how long the line is. So my midwife is telling Dr. Wonderful about this but I'm sort of out of it and I turn around after hearing him say something like "we can see a head" I yell "What!!???" And then he laughed, and I told him (jokingly) to "get out!" There was no head. There were, however, more contractions. And now I was really working. My water breaking quickly pushed me to the 10cm mark and I was encouraged to get into the water. For some reason, I remember resisting. I think I was just concentrating to much on the contractions and wasn't sure I could actually move... but Lori and my midwife were gently persistent and I got in the tub. It felt glorious.
I sunk down onto my knees and spread my legs as wide as I could get them. The warm water came up over my swollen belly and half-way up my breasts. I looked down into the water at my thighs and belly and breasts, feeling awe at what God created my body to do. Just before the next contraction I'm sure I heard God whisper down in my heart, "You are created for this, my beautiful daughter." It gave me strength and courage to continue. On land Lori would rub my back and talk to me during my contractions. Softly telling me that I was doing "good" or "wonderful". She would coach me into deeper vocal tones, help me focus and breath. Now she was either squatting or kneeling outside the tub. She told me to hold on to her hands drive the power behind my contractions down. I would begin to moan in higher tones and she would gently coach me "down". My "down" sounded like a bear roaring. If you are wondering if I am a gentle, delicate flower birth-er, the answer is "No". This is right about the time when I looked up into Lori's eyes and whimpily said "Is it too late for an epidural??" (It was laughably too late for one) I got the feeling she wanted to laugh at me, not because I was being ridiculous, but more because she knew how close I was to giving birth (which was 20 minutes or less later). But she didn't laugh, she sympathetically said, "Yes, honey, it's too late". So I carried on powering Eden "down". I would do so well during a contraction until I would hear Nurse Claw-hand say "You got this Samantha. You are in control." Some how this really bothered me so I yelled at her to "STOP TELLING ME I'M IN CONTROL!!!!!" She did. And I later apologized.
After some time (like maybe 10 minutes, I told you time got fuzzy) my midwife said she thought I had a cervical lip and that if I were to lean back it would likely take care of itself. So I did and it apparently went away. It was hard for me to push in that position so Lori twisted a sheet into a rope and told me to pull on it during a contraction. This helped a TON. I really found my power and used the energy from my growling now to funnel it into pushing Eden under my pubic bone. I will NEVER forget that sensation. I felt her move down, down, down. After getting her head past my pubic bone I reached up inside me and felt her head. It was at that point that I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I could totally push this baby out. She was so close, and I had the POW-WA! So with the next contraction I found that strength that every birthing woman finds at the end. The equivalent of a volcano of power erupted and I pushed Eden's head down and out. Past crowning and just right to her eyes. Her head was half-way out. The hard part was over. My body rested for a bit and didn't contract for what seemed like a long time. My midwife told me to put my leg up on the side of the tub to open my pelvis just a tad more to let her shoulders come down. Dr. Wonderful reached down and held up my other leg and he seemed kind of excited now. And I think he told me to push, or someone did.... that part is fuzzy too. I gave one last push and out she came. She lay very still in the water (which is normal and good with a water birth) with the cord coiled once around her neck and then down around her body. I started to reach down to grab her but they asked me to wait while the cord was being unwrapped. After the cord was moved, I reached down and picked up my daughter and placed her on my chest. Victory. The first thing I thought was "Please, please, just open your eyes one time for me." I was still afraid that she too would die before I ever got to look into her eyes and tell her that I loved her. But then the most perfect thing happened, she looked up right at me, open her eyes and took a breath. And with that breath she let out a gurgly cry that filled the room with tears and thanksgiving.
I was in such shock and wonder that I couldn't cry. I could only laugh and smile. Dr. Wonderful quickly suctioned out her mouth and put a blanket over her. He, as per my wishes, waited to clamp her umbilical cord until it stopped pulsing. Someone called Nolan (we had agreed ahead of time that is was best if he was in the waiting area while I gave birth) and he happened to be on the other end of the building. He wasn't aware that things were moving so quickly. He told me that he started running back to the Labor and Delivery unit. It took him some time to get to my room, so my mom got to cut the cord. It was a first for her even though she had 4 children and has been with me through all 3 of my births. Cutting the cord was especially exciting for her. While I held Eden in the tub my placenta detached almost immediately. I gave two mild pushes and that came out as well. A minute or two after that Nolan finally arrived and it was time for me to get out of the tub. Nurse Claw-hand put a new blanket over Eden and I handed her to Nolan. He told me that he felt relief course through him first. And for the rest of the night he kept having to ask himself what had happened because of being in shock.
While Nolan held Eden, Lori and my midwife helped me out of the tub, dried me off and put a hospital gown on me. After getting in bed I looked around and everyone in the room was crying and hugging everyone else. Nolan gave Eden back to me and all I could do was marvel at her. I needed nothing more in those moments than to look into her eyes. Those eyes. Still, every day I spend hours looking into her eyes. I never got to look into Asher's eyes. I never heard one breath. Never one cry. I will never take for granted one single cry again. The sound of my child living, even when I am exhausted and she has cried for hours, will give me joy.
After spending time with her, Nolan went to get the rest of our family and there were more hugs and tears. Vera got to meet Eden that night while sitting on Daddy's lap. She said "She's so soft." and kept stroking her head gently. Eden was passed around and pictures were taken. Facebook was updated. And pictures were uploaded. 20 minutes after I gave birth Eden latched on and nursed for the first time. She knew just what to do.
When Nolan's mom held Eden she sang to her. The last time she sat in a hospital rocking chair and sang to her grand-baby was with Asher. This is another memory I will never forget.
I spent 2 1/2 days in the hospital with Eden. Both of us were so healthy the hospital staff was very surprised. Eden was nursing really well. I produced tons of colostrum. I did not have any hemorrhaging (this is a big deal because it is routine in this hospital to give EVERY mom a shot of pitocin after they give birth to help the uterus clamp down. But I wasn't given any). Eden's bilirubin (jaundice) was only 1.7 (they want it under 12, a healthy adult can test at 1.7). The pediatrician and the nurses thought at first it was a mistake.
This has been the most tragic, life transforming, blessed, and spiritually alive 15 months of my life. I have learned that when people pray for you it really makes a difference. I have myself learned to pray in a whole new way. I know God has a plan and whatever may come, I will follow him. I still miss Asher with every fiber of my being. I think of him every single day. Sometimes holding Eden makes it hurt harder, and other times it heals wounds. I am now able to thank God for receiving Asher so soon into heaven, because I would never have known the joy of Eden. I do not try to reason it out, or understand His ways, for they are higher than mine.
Through this birth God has worked other miracles that I'm not able to share here. If I had never gone in for this induction many amazing things would never have happened. Eden's birth may very well be the catalyst for change for the better. Again, God is not surprised, even by miraculous events. It was all in his plan.
Pam, my pastor's wife told me dozen's of times, "God will be so faithful." At first I didn't know what she meant. And then I thought she meant that he will always be with me.... and while that is partly what she meant, there is another part I am seeing now. With God all things work together for good to them that love the Lord and are called according to his purpose. God's design for my life my not always be easy or happy, but it will always be for my good. And I can truly say that God has been so faithful to Nolan and I.
Welcome into our family, Eden Constance Ritchie. 9lbs; 1oz, 20 inches long. Born at 12:20am on 02/21/12.
Over the previous 24 hours I worked very hard on letting go of my fears about my pending induction and let God's peace wash over me. Until that morning I didn't actually think I would need to be induced. I told everyone that I would go in at 41 weeks, and I meant it, but I didn't really believe it would come to that. And honestly, I was sure that if I just willed or prayed for it hard enough I would go into labor before the 40 week mark. When 40 weeks rolled around I began to think God had abandoned me. I thought maybe he had decided that my body was broken, but it wasn't he who thought that, it was me. I bought into Satan's lie and started to despair. Why didn't God answer my prayers? Why didn't he hear the prayers of our friends and family? I know there were a good 100 or more people surrounding us in prayer. And doesn't the Bible say that the prayers of a righteous man availeth much? But what was happening was so far beyond my comprehension that it will be difficult to tell about. The big picture is so big that only God could have contrived all the amazing events about to happen that night. Simply because God answers your request with a "No", does not mean that he doesn't have something much more grand prepared for you.
Sunday afternoon my Montrice (labor coach), Lori, called me. She said she had read my last blog and could see how scared and nervous I was about being induced. She reminded me that everything was going to be ok. She also told me that even if my head was doing well with working through Asher's death, that my body still remembered on a cellular level what had happened. That it was still working through post-tramatic stress. I had signs of early labor 3 different times for 6-10 hours in my 40th week of pregnancy but it always quit on me by the time I woke up in the morning. By the end of the week lack of good sleep and my frustration with my body caused me to chew my nails down to bleeding. She said that my body was trying to go into labor but it remembered the pain and grief from the last time. My body was protecting me the only way it knew how. She said she wanted me to work on letting go of the fear of induction and embrace it. And that induction might be Gods way of doing a great work in someone's life.
So that's just what I did. I let go of my fears. I was still nervous.... but I had a deep down sense that things were going to be just as they should. So I worked off my nervousness throughout the day Monday. I did several loads of laundry, went to the store, picked up the house and did other odd jobs. I would normally have been super tired by early evening, but my adrenaline was pumping hard. At 4 my mother-in-law showed up to get Vera. Our pastor also stopped by right at that time. He talked with us some and then we all had prayer. At 5 minutes till 5pm Nolan and I loaded up the car and made the 7 minute trip to the hospital. We parked and walked up to the labor and delivery unit where we learned that were were an hour early. But the nurses were cool about it and got us checked in all the same. They asked me tons of questions like "Do you have a living will??" - this one made me laugh. ---Hi, welcome to our hospital. You don't need to worry about a thing. By the way, do you have a will?? --- Anyway... So once they got me all set up my Dr. came in with the cervidil (it is a cervical ripening drug on a long string that is put up behind your cervix) around 6:45. After placing it he said I was 3cm dialated and that he wouldn't be surprised if the cervidil kicked me into labor right away. At 7pm the nursing staff switched and I got a new nurse. I didn't like her. She was pushy and said a few things that made me want to black her eye -but I've been told there are worse nurses?? So I'm not going to go into my distaste for her because it would be a waste of space. About an hour later I started having contractions, and by 8:15 I was starting to really work. Lori showed up right after Nolan and I both looked at each other and said that we hoped she got there soon. Lori worked with me through about 30mins of contractions. One would start and I would stand up, lean over the back of a rocking chair and sway. Moaning all the while. Sometime it was just a sound, and sometimes it was the word "Open" or "Down". In strong deep guttural tones that helped bring Eden down lower into my pelvis and open my cervix. In that time also called my midwife who I also wanted at my birth. I remember Lori telling her that my contractions were about 1 1/2 to 3 minutes apart and 2 minutes long. They were more irregular than normal contractions because of the cervidil.
My midwife showed up at some point and I remember being so glad she was there. A little while after she got there, she and Lori started having a conversation about girly stuff. I teased them, between contractions, saying that I was going to write that conversation on my blog. haha. About the time she showed up my nurse wanted to put my saline lock in my hand and start antibiotics (my GBS had come back positive so hospital likes to do antibiotics). I sat down in the rocking chair and tried to relax and focus on moving Eden down and opening my body up. The nurse went to work on my I.V., missing my vein in the first hand, it hurt like the devil. She got it in the second hand but couldn't manage to draw blood for hospital protocol. So that meant a 3rd stick in my arm for a blood draw. I was very frustrated with her at this point b/c I hate needles and getting stuck 3 times during contractions was making me loose my concentration. But there I sat, in the rocking chair all the while. Moaning, and sometimes crying out from the pain of the needle, which to me was worse than my contractions.
****I feel that I should mention here, I have been told by several people that Nurse Claw-hand wasn't actually as bad as I perceived her to be. And that there are some much worse nurses. That being said, I've had amazing nurses in the past and she had gigantic shoes to fill.****
After my blood draw was over the nurse was getting concerned about how close together the contractions were getting so she needed me to sit for 20mins to get a good reading on Eden's heart rate. Around 10:30 (I think, time starts to get fuzzy here) the nurse determined that the cervidil needed pulled b/c the contractions were too close together and Eden wasn't reacting to them well. A babies heart rate is supposed to vary, that is, go up and down with contractions and her's were not doing that. I remember getting up out of the chair and almost running to the bed (which was only a foot and a half away) and saying "Get it out!" So she used her giant sharp claws to dig around behind my cervix until she found the string and pulled it out. It hurt so bad, worse than a contraction. At the same time she said I was 6 cm which I was happy to learn. She also flushed my system with saline to help Eden and I got in a hands and knees position. As the cervidil was being pulled out it finally occurred to me that I must actually be in active labor, and that I was likely very close to transition. Until this point I was wondering when labor was REALLY going to start. My contractions had been so hard and painful with Asher that I expected them to be the same this time around.
After about 10 minutes Eden's heart rate was great again, and she had turned from her posterior position (her back to my back) to a better one with her belly facing my back. So Nurse Claw-hand rolled in the birthing tub and started filling it up. Because I was on the bed on my elbows and knees my arms began to get tired. I decided to lay down on my right side to rest for a bit. After laying there for just a little while I thought to myself "It's O.K. for my water to break now." About 12 seconds later I felt and heard a pop. My water broke. In the past my water breaking was almost as soft as a soap bubble bursting, but this time it was as if a heavy-duty water balloon popped. My mom, who was in the room (I have no idea when she got there??), later told me that she heard it. I said "I think my water just broke." My midwife checked to see if there was meconium (baby poop) in the amniotic fluid, but it was clean.
I got back on my hands and knees and I think Dr. Wonderful (he really was, this is not sarcasm) came in around this time. My butt was facing out into the room, and suddenly I started to hear a conversation about blue lines on my butt. I remembered Lori telling me during the birthing class I took almost 2 years ago, that there is a blue line that shows up on a woman's butt when she's in labor. You can tell approx how much she's dilated by how long the line is. So my midwife is telling Dr. Wonderful about this but I'm sort of out of it and I turn around after hearing him say something like "we can see a head" I yell "What!!???" And then he laughed, and I told him (jokingly) to "get out!" There was no head. There were, however, more contractions. And now I was really working. My water breaking quickly pushed me to the 10cm mark and I was encouraged to get into the water. For some reason, I remember resisting. I think I was just concentrating to much on the contractions and wasn't sure I could actually move... but Lori and my midwife were gently persistent and I got in the tub. It felt glorious.
I sunk down onto my knees and spread my legs as wide as I could get them. The warm water came up over my swollen belly and half-way up my breasts. I looked down into the water at my thighs and belly and breasts, feeling awe at what God created my body to do. Just before the next contraction I'm sure I heard God whisper down in my heart, "You are created for this, my beautiful daughter." It gave me strength and courage to continue. On land Lori would rub my back and talk to me during my contractions. Softly telling me that I was doing "good" or "wonderful". She would coach me into deeper vocal tones, help me focus and breath. Now she was either squatting or kneeling outside the tub. She told me to hold on to her hands drive the power behind my contractions down. I would begin to moan in higher tones and she would gently coach me "down". My "down" sounded like a bear roaring. If you are wondering if I am a gentle, delicate flower birth-er, the answer is "No". This is right about the time when I looked up into Lori's eyes and whimpily said "Is it too late for an epidural??" (It was laughably too late for one) I got the feeling she wanted to laugh at me, not because I was being ridiculous, but more because she knew how close I was to giving birth (which was 20 minutes or less later). But she didn't laugh, she sympathetically said, "Yes, honey, it's too late". So I carried on powering Eden "down". I would do so well during a contraction until I would hear Nurse Claw-hand say "You got this Samantha. You are in control." Some how this really bothered me so I yelled at her to "STOP TELLING ME I'M IN CONTROL!!!!!" She did. And I later apologized.
After some time (like maybe 10 minutes, I told you time got fuzzy) my midwife said she thought I had a cervical lip and that if I were to lean back it would likely take care of itself. So I did and it apparently went away. It was hard for me to push in that position so Lori twisted a sheet into a rope and told me to pull on it during a contraction. This helped a TON. I really found my power and used the energy from my growling now to funnel it into pushing Eden under my pubic bone. I will NEVER forget that sensation. I felt her move down, down, down. After getting her head past my pubic bone I reached up inside me and felt her head. It was at that point that I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I could totally push this baby out. She was so close, and I had the POW-WA! So with the next contraction I found that strength that every birthing woman finds at the end. The equivalent of a volcano of power erupted and I pushed Eden's head down and out. Past crowning and just right to her eyes. Her head was half-way out. The hard part was over. My body rested for a bit and didn't contract for what seemed like a long time. My midwife told me to put my leg up on the side of the tub to open my pelvis just a tad more to let her shoulders come down. Dr. Wonderful reached down and held up my other leg and he seemed kind of excited now. And I think he told me to push, or someone did.... that part is fuzzy too. I gave one last push and out she came. She lay very still in the water (which is normal and good with a water birth) with the cord coiled once around her neck and then down around her body. I started to reach down to grab her but they asked me to wait while the cord was being unwrapped. After the cord was moved, I reached down and picked up my daughter and placed her on my chest. Victory. The first thing I thought was "Please, please, just open your eyes one time for me." I was still afraid that she too would die before I ever got to look into her eyes and tell her that I loved her. But then the most perfect thing happened, she looked up right at me, open her eyes and took a breath. And with that breath she let out a gurgly cry that filled the room with tears and thanksgiving.
I was in such shock and wonder that I couldn't cry. I could only laugh and smile. Dr. Wonderful quickly suctioned out her mouth and put a blanket over her. He, as per my wishes, waited to clamp her umbilical cord until it stopped pulsing. Someone called Nolan (we had agreed ahead of time that is was best if he was in the waiting area while I gave birth) and he happened to be on the other end of the building. He wasn't aware that things were moving so quickly. He told me that he started running back to the Labor and Delivery unit. It took him some time to get to my room, so my mom got to cut the cord. It was a first for her even though she had 4 children and has been with me through all 3 of my births. Cutting the cord was especially exciting for her. While I held Eden in the tub my placenta detached almost immediately. I gave two mild pushes and that came out as well. A minute or two after that Nolan finally arrived and it was time for me to get out of the tub. Nurse Claw-hand put a new blanket over Eden and I handed her to Nolan. He told me that he felt relief course through him first. And for the rest of the night he kept having to ask himself what had happened because of being in shock.
While Nolan held Eden, Lori and my midwife helped me out of the tub, dried me off and put a hospital gown on me. After getting in bed I looked around and everyone in the room was crying and hugging everyone else. Nolan gave Eden back to me and all I could do was marvel at her. I needed nothing more in those moments than to look into her eyes. Those eyes. Still, every day I spend hours looking into her eyes. I never got to look into Asher's eyes. I never heard one breath. Never one cry. I will never take for granted one single cry again. The sound of my child living, even when I am exhausted and she has cried for hours, will give me joy.
After spending time with her, Nolan went to get the rest of our family and there were more hugs and tears. Vera got to meet Eden that night while sitting on Daddy's lap. She said "She's so soft." and kept stroking her head gently. Eden was passed around and pictures were taken. Facebook was updated. And pictures were uploaded. 20 minutes after I gave birth Eden latched on and nursed for the first time. She knew just what to do.
When Nolan's mom held Eden she sang to her. The last time she sat in a hospital rocking chair and sang to her grand-baby was with Asher. This is another memory I will never forget.
I spent 2 1/2 days in the hospital with Eden. Both of us were so healthy the hospital staff was very surprised. Eden was nursing really well. I produced tons of colostrum. I did not have any hemorrhaging (this is a big deal because it is routine in this hospital to give EVERY mom a shot of pitocin after they give birth to help the uterus clamp down. But I wasn't given any). Eden's bilirubin (jaundice) was only 1.7 (they want it under 12, a healthy adult can test at 1.7). The pediatrician and the nurses thought at first it was a mistake.
This has been the most tragic, life transforming, blessed, and spiritually alive 15 months of my life. I have learned that when people pray for you it really makes a difference. I have myself learned to pray in a whole new way. I know God has a plan and whatever may come, I will follow him. I still miss Asher with every fiber of my being. I think of him every single day. Sometimes holding Eden makes it hurt harder, and other times it heals wounds. I am now able to thank God for receiving Asher so soon into heaven, because I would never have known the joy of Eden. I do not try to reason it out, or understand His ways, for they are higher than mine.
Through this birth God has worked other miracles that I'm not able to share here. If I had never gone in for this induction many amazing things would never have happened. Eden's birth may very well be the catalyst for change for the better. Again, God is not surprised, even by miraculous events. It was all in his plan.
Pam, my pastor's wife told me dozen's of times, "God will be so faithful." At first I didn't know what she meant. And then I thought she meant that he will always be with me.... and while that is partly what she meant, there is another part I am seeing now. With God all things work together for good to them that love the Lord and are called according to his purpose. God's design for my life my not always be easy or happy, but it will always be for my good. And I can truly say that God has been so faithful to Nolan and I.
Welcome into our family, Eden Constance Ritchie. 9lbs; 1oz, 20 inches long. Born at 12:20am on 02/21/12.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Waiting on Eden
I don't remember how much I've filled everyone in with the last month or so but its been...... taxing. So full of self-doubt am I that its been hard to think straight. We are waiting on Eden. Waiting, waiting, waiting. On Monday I am scheduled to be induced. INDUCED. As in a Dr. will put chemicals into my body to FORCE it into labor. I feel heavy anxiety over my decision to be induced, but I also feel heavy anxiety over the idea of going past the 41 week mark. My nails have never looked worse (this is saying something because I have a LONG history of chewing them down to nothing), my hair is all out of whack and I'm not sleeping. I have searched and searched and looked and scanned every resource I can find for ways to get my body to go into labor on it's own (getting Eden in the right position, soften cervix naturally, ect.), but in reality.... only the baby and your body know when the time is right. If you are not teetering on the edge, nothing you do is going to put you into labor except strong pharmaceuticals.
Knowing all this I have vacillated back and forth with "to induce or not to induce??". Do I just carry babies to 42 weeks? Is this what is best for Eden? or is getting her out in 2 days best? Is my mental steel tough enough to go another week or more? According to EVERY SINGLE ultrasound my placenta is beautiful, Eden is healthy, and my fluid levels are great. I do not have high blood pressure and only a tiny bit of swelling at the end of the day. So I'm about as healthy as can be for 41weeks pregnant. I want her to come on her own. I want to feel my body go into labor and cross into the labor void. I want to come out on the other side triumphant and gleaming and saying, "See? My body is NOT broken. See? My body isn't a baby killer!! See?? See??" But I am so very tired of fighting with my own self. I don't know what is best.
Maybe that is just it. I don't know what's best. And what if I choose to wait another week.... and the unthinkable happens. What if Eden dies too? And what if it could be prevented by just allowing the good Doc to pump powerful drugs into my system and forcing Eden out? But what if the drugs are too much? What if suddenly Eden can't handle the drugs and they wheel me into a cold room, strap my arms down and cut Eden out of me? This anxiety is as powerful as any drug.
Tonight I was driving home and talking with the Lord. I was shaking my head and being frustrated and saying, "God, I'm almost done asking you to bring on labor. I have almost given up that you will come through. I kinda don't believe that you want me to have a healing labor and I feel alone. Don't you care that I'm tired? Haven't I fought enough? Haven't I learned the lesson(s) you wanted me to learn?" And then 'You Deliver Me' by Selah came on the radio.
When I feel like I can't go on,
You deliver me.
When the road is winding and way too long,
You deliver me.
You deliver me.
Of course God was speaking to me right then. He was reassuring me that he is the great physician and he knows what is going on. He knows where I am and what I'm feeling. I still don't know what the best choice is for this labor.... but I know that God will be in the trenches with me. Protecting me and carrying me and giving me strength.
Knowing all this I have vacillated back and forth with "to induce or not to induce??". Do I just carry babies to 42 weeks? Is this what is best for Eden? or is getting her out in 2 days best? Is my mental steel tough enough to go another week or more? According to EVERY SINGLE ultrasound my placenta is beautiful, Eden is healthy, and my fluid levels are great. I do not have high blood pressure and only a tiny bit of swelling at the end of the day. So I'm about as healthy as can be for 41weeks pregnant. I want her to come on her own. I want to feel my body go into labor and cross into the labor void. I want to come out on the other side triumphant and gleaming and saying, "See? My body is NOT broken. See? My body isn't a baby killer!! See?? See??" But I am so very tired of fighting with my own self. I don't know what is best.
Maybe that is just it. I don't know what's best. And what if I choose to wait another week.... and the unthinkable happens. What if Eden dies too? And what if it could be prevented by just allowing the good Doc to pump powerful drugs into my system and forcing Eden out? But what if the drugs are too much? What if suddenly Eden can't handle the drugs and they wheel me into a cold room, strap my arms down and cut Eden out of me? This anxiety is as powerful as any drug.
Tonight I was driving home and talking with the Lord. I was shaking my head and being frustrated and saying, "God, I'm almost done asking you to bring on labor. I have almost given up that you will come through. I kinda don't believe that you want me to have a healing labor and I feel alone. Don't you care that I'm tired? Haven't I fought enough? Haven't I learned the lesson(s) you wanted me to learn?" And then 'You Deliver Me' by Selah came on the radio.
When I feel like I can't go on,
You deliver me.
When the road is winding and way too long,
You deliver me.
You deliver me.
Of course God was speaking to me right then. He was reassuring me that he is the great physician and he knows what is going on. He knows where I am and what I'm feeling. I still don't know what the best choice is for this labor.... but I know that God will be in the trenches with me. Protecting me and carrying me and giving me strength.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Story.
I feel the itch to write. But as soon as I logged in and saw the blank page.... I had nothing to say. When I was in 5th grade I had an amazing teacher named Mrs. Flatter. She taught me to just write the same thing over and over until I knew what I wanted to say. That practice has served me well for almost 12 years now. If I write nonsense for long enough, great ideas begin to seep out on onto the page. Sounds strange.... but it works. And here we go.....
A while back my sister-in-law introduced me to a blog post which was about the idea of story. As in what is your story? Or what story are you a part of right now? After I had Vera I thought that my big story was going to be about moving away from God, getting pregnant, and then married and the storm of chaos that ensued thereafter. I thought it was going to be a story about God redemptive power in my life. And then after we lost Asher I thought that was going to be my big story. About God's faithfulness and about his peace. But that doesn't seem to be it either. Each of my children seem to have written their own chapters in my life while at the same time penning their own stories.
After making the startling discovery that it was O.K. to dream again I started to wonder where my story was going next. Maybe our life is going to settle down for a bit.... maybe we'll have a healthy baby girl, and I will make dinner and wash laundry and run errands, and Nolan will kiss us all and go to work. And things will settle down. But experience has taught me that in life you are either IN a storm, COMING OUT of a storm, or about to GO INTO a storm. I feel like right now we are walking out of a storm but still facing a few rain showers here and there. All of this makes me wonder what my life has in store for me. And what, at the end of my life, will my biography say.
Will anyone read about my life and be challenged by it? Or will they shake their heads, sorry for having read such a pathetic story. I hope it will be the former. What does it take to live in such a way that it challenges others? It will mean an intentionally living with purpose. But that begs the question, what purpose?? So that is where I'm at now..... what purpose???
A while back my sister-in-law introduced me to a blog post which was about the idea of story. As in what is your story? Or what story are you a part of right now? After I had Vera I thought that my big story was going to be about moving away from God, getting pregnant, and then married and the storm of chaos that ensued thereafter. I thought it was going to be a story about God redemptive power in my life. And then after we lost Asher I thought that was going to be my big story. About God's faithfulness and about his peace. But that doesn't seem to be it either. Each of my children seem to have written their own chapters in my life while at the same time penning their own stories.
After making the startling discovery that it was O.K. to dream again I started to wonder where my story was going next. Maybe our life is going to settle down for a bit.... maybe we'll have a healthy baby girl, and I will make dinner and wash laundry and run errands, and Nolan will kiss us all and go to work. And things will settle down. But experience has taught me that in life you are either IN a storm, COMING OUT of a storm, or about to GO INTO a storm. I feel like right now we are walking out of a storm but still facing a few rain showers here and there. All of this makes me wonder what my life has in store for me. And what, at the end of my life, will my biography say.
Will anyone read about my life and be challenged by it? Or will they shake their heads, sorry for having read such a pathetic story. I hope it will be the former. What does it take to live in such a way that it challenges others? It will mean an intentionally living with purpose. But that begs the question, what purpose?? So that is where I'm at now..... what purpose???
Thursday, January 12, 2012
My Someday
So.... I've been avoiding you. Mostly because the incubation stage of my writing process was taking so dern (watch Matilda, dern IS a word) long, also because every time I would have an idea it would skitter right out of my head to make space for some other more pressing change or plan or idea. So you all have earned an update; 1) I'm not seeing the Indy Dr. anymore, I'm back with my midwife. But we are still planning a natural as possible hospital birth with (hopefully) the assistance of a Dr. here in town! Yay! No more long drive. I found out that Ball Hosp. has 1 wireless electronic fetal monitoring unit and I plan to use it.
2) Eden is growing perfectly. Her heart beat is perfect. I'm in good health, but I haven't been eating enough or healthily. Working on getting my greens and proteins again. And clearly my sleep is off (it's 4am here), but only mostly because I have to pee 492 times every single night!!!
3) I have a dream. Just call me Martin. I know that everyone has dreams. Goals you want to accomplish, a life you want to someday live, but for so very, very long I have not even allowed the prospect of someday to enter the realm of possibility. Thinking about the way things could be is so dangerous that my subconscious had protected me by not even pausing for a single second for the idea that someday I would accomplish some dreams. Because in EVERY SINGLE dream scenario a baby was missing from my arms. And if I allowed myself to dream beyond Asher's existence in my earthly world it was like I was blotting him out of my life. As if I took white-out and deleted my memory of Asher. But yesterday was different. Yesterday I spread the gardening catalog across my desk and began to plan. I didn't just plan a garden patch for this summer (like I'll have time for that this year, lol) but I was planning a for a lifetime. I let go of more of my dreams for Asher. I surrendered my dreams of hearing his laughter while he plays with his sisters. I surrendered my hopes of ever teaching him anything. I didn't do it on purpose..... and I honestly didn't even realize what I was doing until later. You don't immediately cut ties with your hopes and dreams when your future is suddenly, drastically altered. You let them loose slowly, carefully. In their place new life blooms, and new passions spring up. Or even -as it is for me- old passions that didn't have any light to shine in or air to breath now are given a second chance.
Some day I want to make and sell my own pottery. I want to sit for long hours at the wheel and throw clay until I work out all my problems. I want to make whole matching sets of hand-crafted, dishwasher and oven safe dishes. I want to sculpt pregnant bellies as gifts for, as Nolan calls them, my "hippy friends". I want to sip coffee under a weeping cherry in full bloom with my husband beside me. I want to have a large garden and a few barnyard animals. I want my own library so I can teach my children about adventuring in the pages of a good book. I will have a few bird feeders hanging in the trees and maybe even allow a cat to slink in and out of the house. I will listen to my girls play pretend with one another as their laughter peals out over the yard and through the kitchen window where I am just taking a pie out of the oven. And I will still kiss Nolan every day, but the scenery will be nicer.
It is fitting that today marks exactly 1 year and 2 months since Asher died. I can dream again. I realized just how important it is to have and nourish your dreams. There is always the possibility that a dream will be taken before it is realized, but there is no such thing as living without risk. I would love to hear about your 'someday'. What is it that stirs your soul to passion??
2) Eden is growing perfectly. Her heart beat is perfect. I'm in good health, but I haven't been eating enough or healthily. Working on getting my greens and proteins again. And clearly my sleep is off (it's 4am here), but only mostly because I have to pee 492 times every single night!!!
3) I have a dream. Just call me Martin. I know that everyone has dreams. Goals you want to accomplish, a life you want to someday live, but for so very, very long I have not even allowed the prospect of someday to enter the realm of possibility. Thinking about the way things could be is so dangerous that my subconscious had protected me by not even pausing for a single second for the idea that someday I would accomplish some dreams. Because in EVERY SINGLE dream scenario a baby was missing from my arms. And if I allowed myself to dream beyond Asher's existence in my earthly world it was like I was blotting him out of my life. As if I took white-out and deleted my memory of Asher. But yesterday was different. Yesterday I spread the gardening catalog across my desk and began to plan. I didn't just plan a garden patch for this summer (like I'll have time for that this year, lol) but I was planning a for a lifetime. I let go of more of my dreams for Asher. I surrendered my dreams of hearing his laughter while he plays with his sisters. I surrendered my hopes of ever teaching him anything. I didn't do it on purpose..... and I honestly didn't even realize what I was doing until later. You don't immediately cut ties with your hopes and dreams when your future is suddenly, drastically altered. You let them loose slowly, carefully. In their place new life blooms, and new passions spring up. Or even -as it is for me- old passions that didn't have any light to shine in or air to breath now are given a second chance.
Some day I want to make and sell my own pottery. I want to sit for long hours at the wheel and throw clay until I work out all my problems. I want to make whole matching sets of hand-crafted, dishwasher and oven safe dishes. I want to sculpt pregnant bellies as gifts for, as Nolan calls them, my "hippy friends". I want to sip coffee under a weeping cherry in full bloom with my husband beside me. I want to have a large garden and a few barnyard animals. I want my own library so I can teach my children about adventuring in the pages of a good book. I will have a few bird feeders hanging in the trees and maybe even allow a cat to slink in and out of the house. I will listen to my girls play pretend with one another as their laughter peals out over the yard and through the kitchen window where I am just taking a pie out of the oven. And I will still kiss Nolan every day, but the scenery will be nicer.
It is fitting that today marks exactly 1 year and 2 months since Asher died. I can dream again. I realized just how important it is to have and nourish your dreams. There is always the possibility that a dream will be taken before it is realized, but there is no such thing as living without risk. I would love to hear about your 'someday'. What is it that stirs your soul to passion??
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Eden...the garden of the LORD.
Isaiah 51:3 .....Eden, .....the garden of the LORD; joy
and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of
melody.
I read this last night on my journey through Isaiah. I've taken it out of context a bit, here Isaiah is actually talking about how he will comfort and restore the Jewish people (Zion). The full verse actually reads;
"3For the LORD shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the LORD; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody."
I've never read this verse before last night and we've had Eden picked as a name for our second daughter for a long while now. I have often, this last year, felt like captured Israel, waiting on the Lord to restore me and revive me; to come charging in to save the day and make all things in my world right again. So many times I've said, "But Lord, my son is still dead. Are you JUST going to stand there and watch? You know, YOU CAN change all of this if you want to." Because God, of course, needs reminded by me of what He can and cannot do??? Um, no. But still, why then? Why am I fighting this battle if all he has to do is speak and all my trouble will be put to rest? The best answer I have is "I-dun-no?" I do know that out of the ashes (ha! no pun intended) of the last year I have grown closer to Christ. My walk is more beside Him, instead of running ahead or struggling to catch up from behind. I know that I trust his promises more fully now and have witnessed His faithfulness in my darkness and unbelief.
So if He promises to comfort and restore Zion, which is also a promise he gives to me, then I will believe Him. And it is no coincidence that this verse holds so much meaning to me AFTER we picked out Eden's name. Beauty, joy, gladness, thanksgiving and a voice of melody (which I take to mean a heart full of praise, rather than a beautiful voice); what more could I ask for in a daughter or in my own healing??
The book of Isaiah has been such a comfort to me during my pregnancy, it's taking a long time to read it all, but that is mostly because it takes so much time to process all the gems I've found there. The whole first half of the book is about how God will lay waste to the people of Israel because of sin, but then you come to a turning point when God decides that it is time for His children to be reclaimed and ransomed. God so perfectly balances wrath and mercy, righteous hate and love, justice and grace. I almost stopped reading Isaiah in the first half because I was so confused by how my good, loving God could choose and cause the desolation of the ones he calls His children. It's because justice, wrath, and righteous hate are each 100% of God's person just as mercy, love and grace are. And, frankly, if God isn't going to exact wrath on Satan and sin, I want nothing to do with Christianity. But He is/has/will, so I do want in.
Since it is so close to Christmas, I though I'd pick a Christmas song. O Come Emmanuel is one of my favorites and it fits this theme of God rescuing and restoring so nicely.
I read this last night on my journey through Isaiah. I've taken it out of context a bit, here Isaiah is actually talking about how he will comfort and restore the Jewish people (Zion). The full verse actually reads;
"3For the LORD shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the LORD; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody."
I've never read this verse before last night and we've had Eden picked as a name for our second daughter for a long while now. I have often, this last year, felt like captured Israel, waiting on the Lord to restore me and revive me; to come charging in to save the day and make all things in my world right again. So many times I've said, "But Lord, my son is still dead. Are you JUST going to stand there and watch? You know, YOU CAN change all of this if you want to." Because God, of course, needs reminded by me of what He can and cannot do??? Um, no. But still, why then? Why am I fighting this battle if all he has to do is speak and all my trouble will be put to rest? The best answer I have is "I-dun-no?" I do know that out of the ashes (ha! no pun intended) of the last year I have grown closer to Christ. My walk is more beside Him, instead of running ahead or struggling to catch up from behind. I know that I trust his promises more fully now and have witnessed His faithfulness in my darkness and unbelief.
So if He promises to comfort and restore Zion, which is also a promise he gives to me, then I will believe Him. And it is no coincidence that this verse holds so much meaning to me AFTER we picked out Eden's name. Beauty, joy, gladness, thanksgiving and a voice of melody (which I take to mean a heart full of praise, rather than a beautiful voice); what more could I ask for in a daughter or in my own healing??
The book of Isaiah has been such a comfort to me during my pregnancy, it's taking a long time to read it all, but that is mostly because it takes so much time to process all the gems I've found there. The whole first half of the book is about how God will lay waste to the people of Israel because of sin, but then you come to a turning point when God decides that it is time for His children to be reclaimed and ransomed. God so perfectly balances wrath and mercy, righteous hate and love, justice and grace. I almost stopped reading Isaiah in the first half because I was so confused by how my good, loving God could choose and cause the desolation of the ones he calls His children. It's because justice, wrath, and righteous hate are each 100% of God's person just as mercy, love and grace are. And, frankly, if God isn't going to exact wrath on Satan and sin, I want nothing to do with Christianity. But He is/has/will, so I do want in.
Since it is so close to Christmas, I though I'd pick a Christmas song. O Come Emmanuel is one of my favorites and it fits this theme of God rescuing and restoring so nicely.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Will and Grace
For a long time I've thinking about Will and Grace. It's not what you think. What I mean to say is Free Will and Divine Grace, not the T.V. show. That is - the freedom we have to choose and the grace God provides when our hearts become rebellious toward Him and we do something stupid, i.e. sin. Lately I have been concentrating mostly on grace, how I express it to others, and the amazing lengths God has gone to show it to me.
Now I want to tell you a story. There was once a young girl, beautiful, smart and full of passion for the things of God. She was a leader in her church among the youth and everyone had high expectations of her. This young woman did all the right things and said all the right things to all the right people. But somewhere in the mix of the world she allowed her mind to go astray. She began thinking wrong thoughts. And soon after, during her last year of high school she met a handsome man. This man fell in love with this girl and she fell in love with him too. But because the young lady's mind was already compromised and her heart was full of rebellion, she soon began to give in to temptation. Her lust for the young man turned into fornication. She was a genius at hiding it...... lying had always been an easy specialty for her so no one need be the wiser. But the Bible is always right and it promises in Numbers 32:23 "..... be sure your sin will find you out." And so it did, the young woman became pregnant just weeks before she gradated high school. So ended a respected reputation and many other things. It is now 4 1/2 years later, and God has been so good. She married her handsome man and has a new and better relationship with Christ built on truth and trust and much grace.
Recently the young woman heard of a leader in a nearby church who's sin has found him out also. He and his wife are going through a divorce and their are rumors of an affair. Several affairs actually on the part of this man. As far as the young woman knew this was rock solid marriage between two Godly, Christian people. But like her own past life, it has been a facade for many years.
Now I get to the juicy parts..... the young woman is me (many of you already know this) and I do actually know a man in this position but he needs not to be named. We can all think of someone with a similar story. So insert whatever name that immediately comes to mind for you.
When I heard this story I was instantly 1)Shocked, 2)Angry, 3)Judgmental. That's right, I pointed the finger with the rest. And I'm ashamed for having done so. Out of all people I should have been the first to pray for repentance and healing for this family, I should have been understanding and full of grace. How quickly I had forgotten just what God brought me back from and where he has carried me to. What this man and his family need and will continue to need is not harassment or whispers or wagging of tongues, but compassion, grace, and prayer. They need kindness and forgiveness and to be able to come to their fellow Christians, even in their brokenness and find love. My daughter has a book with a poem in it that goes like this;
Little words can mean so much
When out hearts and lives they touch
Once little word none can replace
This little word is Grace.
It means no matter what you do
God's love is reaching out for you.
So if you've been bad today
God's grace is just a prayer away.
That is the best definition of grace I have ever heard. It is not making excuses for sin. It is not ignoring it. It's not condoning sin. It is not even allowing someone to continually hurt you with their sin. It is loving the person in the midst of their sin. No matter what you do, God's love is reaching out for you.
I saw Mr. Insert Name out shopping just the other day. He didn't have a cart, so he wasn't there to grocery shop. And he was walking around sort of aimlessly it seemed. If I were going to guess.... I'd say he was lonely and bored and just needed to get out of the house. And then I thought about the likely hood of his having spent Thanksgiving alone and how he will also likely be spending Christmas alone. There is always consequence for sin. This man would hardly look me in the eye and would barely speak to me, trying as best he could to avoid me. This is the brokenness and death of sin. I told him I was praying for him, but I wonder does he understand that my prayers are for healing? For those around him to show compassion, kindness, and grace? That someone will come along side him and reassure him that God still wants him, wants a new, better, deeper relationship with him? And even wants to one day use him again? I know that when people used to tell me they were praying for me I always thought they were patronizing me. Or were asking God to make me stop sinning, to be a "good girl" again. But maybe some of them were asking God to heal my heart and bring me back into a passionate relationship with Christ. Maybe some of them were asking God to show me how captivated He is by me and how much He loves me.
I am so thankful for my Free Will to choose Grace instead of condemnation. I am thankful that God allows me to choose to show others the love He has faithfully shown me. For what is love if it is a forced love?
Now I want to tell you a story. There was once a young girl, beautiful, smart and full of passion for the things of God. She was a leader in her church among the youth and everyone had high expectations of her. This young woman did all the right things and said all the right things to all the right people. But somewhere in the mix of the world she allowed her mind to go astray. She began thinking wrong thoughts. And soon after, during her last year of high school she met a handsome man. This man fell in love with this girl and she fell in love with him too. But because the young lady's mind was already compromised and her heart was full of rebellion, she soon began to give in to temptation. Her lust for the young man turned into fornication. She was a genius at hiding it...... lying had always been an easy specialty for her so no one need be the wiser. But the Bible is always right and it promises in Numbers 32:23 "..... be sure your sin will find you out." And so it did, the young woman became pregnant just weeks before she gradated high school. So ended a respected reputation and many other things. It is now 4 1/2 years later, and God has been so good. She married her handsome man and has a new and better relationship with Christ built on truth and trust and much grace.
Recently the young woman heard of a leader in a nearby church who's sin has found him out also. He and his wife are going through a divorce and their are rumors of an affair. Several affairs actually on the part of this man. As far as the young woman knew this was rock solid marriage between two Godly, Christian people. But like her own past life, it has been a facade for many years.
Now I get to the juicy parts..... the young woman is me (many of you already know this) and I do actually know a man in this position but he needs not to be named. We can all think of someone with a similar story. So insert whatever name that immediately comes to mind for you.
When I heard this story I was instantly 1)Shocked, 2)Angry, 3)Judgmental. That's right, I pointed the finger with the rest. And I'm ashamed for having done so. Out of all people I should have been the first to pray for repentance and healing for this family, I should have been understanding and full of grace. How quickly I had forgotten just what God brought me back from and where he has carried me to. What this man and his family need and will continue to need is not harassment or whispers or wagging of tongues, but compassion, grace, and prayer. They need kindness and forgiveness and to be able to come to their fellow Christians, even in their brokenness and find love. My daughter has a book with a poem in it that goes like this;
Little words can mean so much
When out hearts and lives they touch
Once little word none can replace
This little word is Grace.
It means no matter what you do
God's love is reaching out for you.
So if you've been bad today
God's grace is just a prayer away.
That is the best definition of grace I have ever heard. It is not making excuses for sin. It is not ignoring it. It's not condoning sin. It is not even allowing someone to continually hurt you with their sin. It is loving the person in the midst of their sin. No matter what you do, God's love is reaching out for you.
I saw Mr. Insert Name out shopping just the other day. He didn't have a cart, so he wasn't there to grocery shop. And he was walking around sort of aimlessly it seemed. If I were going to guess.... I'd say he was lonely and bored and just needed to get out of the house. And then I thought about the likely hood of his having spent Thanksgiving alone and how he will also likely be spending Christmas alone. There is always consequence for sin. This man would hardly look me in the eye and would barely speak to me, trying as best he could to avoid me. This is the brokenness and death of sin. I told him I was praying for him, but I wonder does he understand that my prayers are for healing? For those around him to show compassion, kindness, and grace? That someone will come along side him and reassure him that God still wants him, wants a new, better, deeper relationship with him? And even wants to one day use him again? I know that when people used to tell me they were praying for me I always thought they were patronizing me. Or were asking God to make me stop sinning, to be a "good girl" again. But maybe some of them were asking God to heal my heart and bring me back into a passionate relationship with Christ. Maybe some of them were asking God to show me how captivated He is by me and how much He loves me.
I am so thankful for my Free Will to choose Grace instead of condemnation. I am thankful that God allows me to choose to show others the love He has faithfully shown me. For what is love if it is a forced love?
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Critical Mass and More Change
I haven't blogged for a while for several reasons... the first being this was a hard week, the second being I (almost) single-highhandedly blew-up a perfectly good day, the third being there have been several changes in plan pertaining to this pregnancy that I wanted to get ironed out before sharing here.
Most of you are already aware that we reached the one year mark last Saturday. Saturday was November 12th, the day Asher died, he was born early the next day. Saturday was sunny, windy and basically beautiful. I didn't feel a huge sense of sadness.... in fact I was happy all day. I wanted to be sure the day was one where we celebrated the life God gave us to love... even if it was only for a painfully short time. This is the part where I tell you I acted like a psycho and basically ruined the whole day. Our plan (my plan that everyone else agreed to because they love me and they love Asher) was to take sky lanterns (see Disney's Tangled - it was my idea first, they stole it) and sparklers (not my idea, I stole it from another mom who had to bury her own son 8 years ago) out to the grave site just before nightfall. I wanted to draw or write messages on the lanterns and set them off and then do the sparklers. The whole day went fine until I needed to wake Nolan up (he works nights and hadn't gotten much sleep - 2 hours- that day) to leave. I had a really hard time getting him out of bed, and then when I did it took him awhile to actually wake up and get motivated to put shoes on and get ready to leave. So we were running about 30mins behind. Well... at some point I blew a gasket and went postal on him. Like the ugly, hateful, screaming insanity you see on Jerry Springer. It was pretty close to Carrie-style ridiculousness. So here we are finally in the car and I am letting Nolan have IT and I'm not slowing down anytime soon. He tells me to take him back home but I yell back "You can WALK!" So at the next stoplight he gets out and walks home which makes my pissed meter shoot through the roof.
By the time I make it out to Garden's of Memory I was at critical mass levels of irate. I stopped the car and got out with the intention to be calm and normal. That did not happen. Thomas (my brother) got out of my parents van and said, "Do you need help?" I yelled back "No! I need a new husband!" And then I just started ranting again. I was crying and raving and shouting. At one point I yelled at Nolan's dad..... not one of my best moments to say the least. Later that night, after I'd calmed down, Nolan and I were talking and he very sweetly said "Don't you think you overreacted?" At first that made me aggravated again, but he quickly followed with "What would have happened if you hadn't gotten mad? We'd have been late, but there would have been no fight and I'd have went with you to the cemetery." So then I cried. I didn't want him to be right. I wanted to be right. So I pouted..... I might have a hidden 14 year old inside - maybe. But eventually I saw that he really was right and that I had a lot of apologizing to do.
Moving on to Sunday - mostly because I don't want to elaborate to you anymore how nuts I became. Sunday was actually much sadder than Saturday. Sunday was Asher's birthday. I never even got one birthday with him. Sunday at church so many amazing women knew just what I needed; prayer, hugs, sitting with me. And one young woman knew that I just really needed to be somewhere else at that time. So so asked me if I wanted to go for a drive. It was wonderful. They knew what I needed and gave freely.
I am blessed to have so many understanding people around me. Which brings me to my next announcement. We've decided through lots of prayer and research to switch care providers. This decision doesn't have anything to do with the care I was getting with my Midwife (she's been wonderful, and I will actually be seeing her for my post-natal care), but has everything to do with the fact that we decided we wanted a hospital birth because of the availability of on-the-spot interventions should I or Eden need them. We are healthy and there is no reason to suspect we will need them. But for our own peace of mind we have decided this is what we want. I looked at several hospitals and I decided I like Methodist because of their willingness to support natural birth. So I can have the natural birth I want with the medical stuff at the ready. I still hope to one day have a home birth..... but for now this is where things stand. I would love to know many of you are praying for a smooth, wonderful birth. And for labor to begin at or just before 40wks - again, peace of mind.
February can't come soon enough.
Most of you are already aware that we reached the one year mark last Saturday. Saturday was November 12th, the day Asher died, he was born early the next day. Saturday was sunny, windy and basically beautiful. I didn't feel a huge sense of sadness.... in fact I was happy all day. I wanted to be sure the day was one where we celebrated the life God gave us to love... even if it was only for a painfully short time. This is the part where I tell you I acted like a psycho and basically ruined the whole day. Our plan (my plan that everyone else agreed to because they love me and they love Asher) was to take sky lanterns (see Disney's Tangled - it was my idea first, they stole it) and sparklers (not my idea, I stole it from another mom who had to bury her own son 8 years ago) out to the grave site just before nightfall. I wanted to draw or write messages on the lanterns and set them off and then do the sparklers. The whole day went fine until I needed to wake Nolan up (he works nights and hadn't gotten much sleep - 2 hours- that day) to leave. I had a really hard time getting him out of bed, and then when I did it took him awhile to actually wake up and get motivated to put shoes on and get ready to leave. So we were running about 30mins behind. Well... at some point I blew a gasket and went postal on him. Like the ugly, hateful, screaming insanity you see on Jerry Springer. It was pretty close to Carrie-style ridiculousness. So here we are finally in the car and I am letting Nolan have IT and I'm not slowing down anytime soon. He tells me to take him back home but I yell back "You can WALK!" So at the next stoplight he gets out and walks home which makes my pissed meter shoot through the roof.
By the time I make it out to Garden's of Memory I was at critical mass levels of irate. I stopped the car and got out with the intention to be calm and normal. That did not happen. Thomas (my brother) got out of my parents van and said, "Do you need help?" I yelled back "No! I need a new husband!" And then I just started ranting again. I was crying and raving and shouting. At one point I yelled at Nolan's dad..... not one of my best moments to say the least. Later that night, after I'd calmed down, Nolan and I were talking and he very sweetly said "Don't you think you overreacted?" At first that made me aggravated again, but he quickly followed with "What would have happened if you hadn't gotten mad? We'd have been late, but there would have been no fight and I'd have went with you to the cemetery." So then I cried. I didn't want him to be right. I wanted to be right. So I pouted..... I might have a hidden 14 year old inside - maybe. But eventually I saw that he really was right and that I had a lot of apologizing to do.
Moving on to Sunday - mostly because I don't want to elaborate to you anymore how nuts I became. Sunday was actually much sadder than Saturday. Sunday was Asher's birthday. I never even got one birthday with him. Sunday at church so many amazing women knew just what I needed; prayer, hugs, sitting with me. And one young woman knew that I just really needed to be somewhere else at that time. So so asked me if I wanted to go for a drive. It was wonderful. They knew what I needed and gave freely.
I am blessed to have so many understanding people around me. Which brings me to my next announcement. We've decided through lots of prayer and research to switch care providers. This decision doesn't have anything to do with the care I was getting with my Midwife (she's been wonderful, and I will actually be seeing her for my post-natal care), but has everything to do with the fact that we decided we wanted a hospital birth because of the availability of on-the-spot interventions should I or Eden need them. We are healthy and there is no reason to suspect we will need them. But for our own peace of mind we have decided this is what we want. I looked at several hospitals and I decided I like Methodist because of their willingness to support natural birth. So I can have the natural birth I want with the medical stuff at the ready. I still hope to one day have a home birth..... but for now this is where things stand. I would love to know many of you are praying for a smooth, wonderful birth. And for labor to begin at or just before 40wks - again, peace of mind.
February can't come soon enough.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Being Real, Pride, and Many Hands
At first I wasn't too sure about posting this..... but it's part of the journey. Last Thursday morning Nolan and I had what should have been a tiny tiff, but in my head it was HUGE. Now I can't even remember what it was about, but I do know that I cried for the hour-long drive to see my chiropractor because I was so upset. And then I put on a happy face and had my appointment, when we left I cried for the hour drive back home. This was not a once-in-a-great-while thing, this sort of ragged sorrow had been raging for about 3-4 wks, maybe longer. And I was so anxious I started to question every decision I was making and even questioning some my core beliefs..... which is just NOT like me. Once I make a decision I stick to it - good or bad.
When I came in the door I just put on an icy frontier and went about cleaning the house as normal.... but I just started to cry again. My poor husband was so bewildered. I told him that how I looked on the outside (a crying, freaked-out mess) was how I was feeling every minute of every day on the inside. I told him I couldn't take this anymore. We decided it was time to talk to someone and ask about an antidepressant. I was able to get a prescription sent to my pharmacy for Zoloft. As far as antidepressants go it is about the only one that would work for my symptoms and be semi-ok during pregnancy. There are certain risks that go along with just about every drug and the same is true of Zoloft. I was pretty nervous about taking it, but I also knew I could NOT go on feeling the way I was feeling. Feeling crazy, and so very sad and anxious ALL THE TIME was not good for Eden. It was also really starting to hack away at the relationships with my family. So I decided to take the pills. I took them for two days and had a weird side effect. I started shaking, like the kind of shaking you do when you shiver violently from the cold - except that I wasn't cold. I couldn't sleep because of it and (after much more research on side effects) decided not to take it anymore. It took another day for the shaking to totally stop. I started taking extra B-complex vitamins and really upped my Inositol. These measures have really helped and I feel so very much better.
I feel/felt so ashamed about saying that I was not in a good mental place. It was hard to even admit to myself that something was truly not right upstairs and that maybe I needed help. In the past I've been the level-headed, reasonable one. I've always been so proud of keeping it all together. But maybe then I wasn't being real with those around me. Maybe it was a front..... heck, I know it was a front and I know that I got really good at fooling others into believing I had it all under control. I think I was even proud of that.... Proverbs 16:18 - "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." And so I fell, hard. Lucky for me I have many hands waiting to help me back up.
When I came in the door I just put on an icy frontier and went about cleaning the house as normal.... but I just started to cry again. My poor husband was so bewildered. I told him that how I looked on the outside (a crying, freaked-out mess) was how I was feeling every minute of every day on the inside. I told him I couldn't take this anymore. We decided it was time to talk to someone and ask about an antidepressant. I was able to get a prescription sent to my pharmacy for Zoloft. As far as antidepressants go it is about the only one that would work for my symptoms and be semi-ok during pregnancy. There are certain risks that go along with just about every drug and the same is true of Zoloft. I was pretty nervous about taking it, but I also knew I could NOT go on feeling the way I was feeling. Feeling crazy, and so very sad and anxious ALL THE TIME was not good for Eden. It was also really starting to hack away at the relationships with my family. So I decided to take the pills. I took them for two days and had a weird side effect. I started shaking, like the kind of shaking you do when you shiver violently from the cold - except that I wasn't cold. I couldn't sleep because of it and (after much more research on side effects) decided not to take it anymore. It took another day for the shaking to totally stop. I started taking extra B-complex vitamins and really upped my Inositol. These measures have really helped and I feel so very much better.
I feel/felt so ashamed about saying that I was not in a good mental place. It was hard to even admit to myself that something was truly not right upstairs and that maybe I needed help. In the past I've been the level-headed, reasonable one. I've always been so proud of keeping it all together. But maybe then I wasn't being real with those around me. Maybe it was a front..... heck, I know it was a front and I know that I got really good at fooling others into believing I had it all under control. I think I was even proud of that.... Proverbs 16:18 - "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." And so I fell, hard. Lucky for me I have many hands waiting to help me back up.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Trying to Get Lost.
If memory serves me correctly, today was my due date with Asher. Or maybe it was the 28th?? Ask my mother-in-law, she will know. She remembers every date of every thing that ever happens (it's like a super-power.) I can't remember because I don't put a lot of stock in due dates..... and so I wasn't super focused on a day as much as I was a block of time. This is when everyone around me started getting nervous....... somehow they all knew something wasn't right. But not me. I was basking in the glow of my son. I distinctly remember how very nervous Nolan, my mom, and Nolan's dad - Jim were. They had no real reason to be.... I was feeling fine, Asher was acting fine, the ultrasound I had the Monday before I had him said everything was perfect.
These last few weeks have been hard. I feel angry and sad and happy all at the same time. Having these intense emotions has caused me to start shutting down emotionally. I can detach emotionally and go into autopilot mode if I need to. However........ at some point during the week it all comes crashing down and I am a mess for hours. Last Saturday I started to drive home from my in-laws, but instead drove way, way out into the country. I drove for almost an hour down narrow country roads trying to get as lost as possible (I cannot get lost, even when I try). I just kept driving. I kept thinking that I wanted to go somewhere that wanted me. I didn't want to be with people...... people need something from you...... and i had nothing left to give. But heaven didn't want me, if it did I'd be dead. My empty house didn't want me. I had been a wreck to be around all day and felt like my family didn't want (to be around) me. So I just kept driving. Who wants an emotionally volatile, grieving, exhausted, pregnant woman????? I wondered, and wondered: mentally and physically. The sun was to my back and it lit the dry corn and bean fields with that long, golden autumn light, which hints at the cold winter to come. I turned down every road I could turn on - purposely not looking at the road signs. Eventually I came to a tiny, old church with a small, old cemetery right next to it. At first I was going to go into the church.... but then the weather-beaten headstones of the oldest graves began to beacon me. They said, "We want you. Come see us." It's so difficult to describe..... part of me is buried in the ground with Asher. Part of me will never be satisfied with this life, always longing to go to my real home, my forever home. And part of me is in every cemetery that I pass. I know that an untold number of tears have been shed in each one. I know the sane insanity of disbelief when standing over a tombstone you picked out and paid for. I know the draw to walk near the body of the one you put in the ground.
As I walked around reading about those who had been buried I gravitated toward the back where the really old graves were. I discovered among them a sad, and terrible trio. The headstones told the story of 2 little girls and a baby boy from from the year 1834. I like the way they marked the stones back then. Nanny Cull died August 27. 1 year, 3 days. 1834. Next to her was her twin sister who died the next day. And next to her was their 12 day old brother who died one week later. So a mother gives birth to a son, 5 days later both of her twin daughters are dead, and a week after that so is her son. Three babies in the ground in less than 2 weeks. Did she loose her mind?? Did she ever have any other children?? What happened?? Who held her hand as she stood exactly where I was 177 years ago?
I left soon after my discovery. Knowing that others have stood where I was and cried and were angry too was helpful. I am not the first mother to loose her baby to an early grave, and I will not be the last. I got in my car and drove back to my in-laws..... never did get lost.
These last few weeks have been hard. I feel angry and sad and happy all at the same time. Having these intense emotions has caused me to start shutting down emotionally. I can detach emotionally and go into autopilot mode if I need to. However........ at some point during the week it all comes crashing down and I am a mess for hours. Last Saturday I started to drive home from my in-laws, but instead drove way, way out into the country. I drove for almost an hour down narrow country roads trying to get as lost as possible (I cannot get lost, even when I try). I just kept driving. I kept thinking that I wanted to go somewhere that wanted me. I didn't want to be with people...... people need something from you...... and i had nothing left to give. But heaven didn't want me, if it did I'd be dead. My empty house didn't want me. I had been a wreck to be around all day and felt like my family didn't want (to be around) me. So I just kept driving. Who wants an emotionally volatile, grieving, exhausted, pregnant woman????? I wondered, and wondered: mentally and physically. The sun was to my back and it lit the dry corn and bean fields with that long, golden autumn light, which hints at the cold winter to come. I turned down every road I could turn on - purposely not looking at the road signs. Eventually I came to a tiny, old church with a small, old cemetery right next to it. At first I was going to go into the church.... but then the weather-beaten headstones of the oldest graves began to beacon me. They said, "We want you. Come see us." It's so difficult to describe..... part of me is buried in the ground with Asher. Part of me will never be satisfied with this life, always longing to go to my real home, my forever home. And part of me is in every cemetery that I pass. I know that an untold number of tears have been shed in each one. I know the sane insanity of disbelief when standing over a tombstone you picked out and paid for. I know the draw to walk near the body of the one you put in the ground.
As I walked around reading about those who had been buried I gravitated toward the back where the really old graves were. I discovered among them a sad, and terrible trio. The headstones told the story of 2 little girls and a baby boy from from the year 1834. I like the way they marked the stones back then. Nanny Cull died August 27. 1 year, 3 days. 1834. Next to her was her twin sister who died the next day. And next to her was their 12 day old brother who died one week later. So a mother gives birth to a son, 5 days later both of her twin daughters are dead, and a week after that so is her son. Three babies in the ground in less than 2 weeks. Did she loose her mind?? Did she ever have any other children?? What happened?? Who held her hand as she stood exactly where I was 177 years ago?
I left soon after my discovery. Knowing that others have stood where I was and cried and were angry too was helpful. I am not the first mother to loose her baby to an early grave, and I will not be the last. I got in my car and drove back to my in-laws..... never did get lost.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
"I Miss My Brother, Asher"
Tonight I held my baby girl while she sobbed into my chest. She said, "I miss Asher. I miss my brother, Asher. Can't Jesus give him back to me??" Don't tell me children don't understand death and loss. Don't tell me their little hearts aren't broken.
I told her we will see Asher again when we go to heaven. She said, "I don't want to wait, Momma. I miss Asher."
Me either, Baby, me either.
I told her we will see Asher again when we go to heaven. She said, "I don't want to wait, Momma. I miss Asher."
Me either, Baby, me either.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
When I Need to Laugh......
Some days I just need to laugh. I go in search of whatever sorts of things I can drown out the noise of the day in and just let out a hearty-har-har. There are lots of things I do...... without further ado (in no particular order).
Number One. Awkward Family Photos. Many of you already know about this little gem.... go ahead spend an hour. Giggle.
Number Two. People of Walmart. Now, I also recommend actually GOING to a Wal-mart just to people-watch. It's free and entertaining.
Also this related classic. Enjoy.
Number Three. Call grandma. Give the phone to your toddler. Sit back and listen. Good for at least 30mins of entertainment....... maybe more if there is a grandpa in the room near the grandma. :) This also works well as free childcare if you have a chore around the house that needs done and you need your toddler to be entertained.
Number Four. Watch old reruns of The Cosby Show. You'll thank me later. Also watch Psych. Very funny.
Number Five. My husband works with all men. All these men tell him dirty-ish jokes. Occasionally he'll tell me one or two. And it makes me laugh. He told me one this very morning. No! I'm not going to tell you. You'll have to ask your OWN husband to tell you dirty jokes.
Number Six. Swap "Poop" stories with other moms of toddlers.
Number Seven. Swap "Crazy Huge Mess" stories with other moms of toddlers.
(These last two also work well if you have children of any age with other moms.)
Number Eight. Get out your mom's wedding pics from the 80's or later. Again, you'll thank me later. Also ask her for Prom pics. : ) (I realize some of you who read this ARE the ones who are IN these golden-oldies pics..... but the rest of us just can't help but laugh.)
Number Nine. Find a teenager. Ask them to tell you about high school. This time with my brother and sister make me laugh so much.
Number TEN!!!! Think of all the funny things your toddler does.
Example. Vera comes to me holding a new block of soap with a rubber duck stuck in the middle that she received from her Aunt Emily. I'm on the phone with my mom.
Vera (standing and staring at me): "Mom. I need a tell you sumpin. I tinken'."
Me (slightly confused, but she's so darn cute anyway): "Ok, honey, you just keep on thinking. Thats a good job." I continue to talk to my mom.
Vera (stands next to my chair for another 30-45 seconds): "Mooommmm, I said I tinken'!!!!!! Can you put me in a baff wiff my new soap???"
Me: "OH! You STINK and you want a bath! (then between laughter) Ok, go take your clothes off. I'll start the water."
Try some of these if you need a good laugh. Get your endorphins flowing. Laughter induced belly ache guaranteed.
Number One. Awkward Family Photos. Many of you already know about this little gem.... go ahead spend an hour. Giggle.
Number Two. People of Walmart. Now, I also recommend actually GOING to a Wal-mart just to people-watch. It's free and entertaining.
Also this related classic. Enjoy.
Number Three. Call grandma. Give the phone to your toddler. Sit back and listen. Good for at least 30mins of entertainment....... maybe more if there is a grandpa in the room near the grandma. :) This also works well as free childcare if you have a chore around the house that needs done and you need your toddler to be entertained.
Number Four. Watch old reruns of The Cosby Show. You'll thank me later. Also watch Psych. Very funny.
Number Five. My husband works with all men. All these men tell him dirty-ish jokes. Occasionally he'll tell me one or two. And it makes me laugh. He told me one this very morning. No! I'm not going to tell you. You'll have to ask your OWN husband to tell you dirty jokes.
Number Six. Swap "Poop" stories with other moms of toddlers.
Number Seven. Swap "Crazy Huge Mess" stories with other moms of toddlers.
(These last two also work well if you have children of any age with other moms.)
Number Eight. Get out your mom's wedding pics from the 80's or later. Again, you'll thank me later. Also ask her for Prom pics. : ) (I realize some of you who read this ARE the ones who are IN these golden-oldies pics..... but the rest of us just can't help but laugh.)
Number Nine. Find a teenager. Ask them to tell you about high school. This time with my brother and sister make me laugh so much.
Number TEN!!!! Think of all the funny things your toddler does.
Example. Vera comes to me holding a new block of soap with a rubber duck stuck in the middle that she received from her Aunt Emily. I'm on the phone with my mom.
Vera (standing and staring at me): "Mom. I need a tell you sumpin. I tinken'."
Me (slightly confused, but she's so darn cute anyway): "Ok, honey, you just keep on thinking. Thats a good job." I continue to talk to my mom.
Vera (stands next to my chair for another 30-45 seconds): "Mooommmm, I said I tinken'!!!!!! Can you put me in a baff wiff my new soap???"
Me: "OH! You STINK and you want a bath! (then between laughter) Ok, go take your clothes off. I'll start the water."
Try some of these if you need a good laugh. Get your endorphins flowing. Laughter induced belly ache guaranteed.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
I Surrender All
I was reminded this morning of a hymn we sang at Asher's funeral. I asked for it to be sung after my sister-in-law told me she had been singing it and praying for us. She said she was asking God to help us surrender everything we had dreamed of for our son. All our hopes and wishes, all the good and blessing we had anticipated. Before her note I had never looked at this song in this light. I had always thought of surrendering the bad things..... the unhappy memories. Or surrendering the life I have now for a better one in Christ. It never occurred to me to think of surrendering my right to blessing and joy in place of God's sovereign will, in place of suffering.
I sat next to my husband and while other's sang Nolan and I sobbed along with our families on both sides. I know that was one of the times the Holy Spirit prayed for me because I could not pray..... I could only sob.
I got a fresh lesson on surrendering on Saturday. Nolan and I spent the day celebrating our belated 4th anniversary (It was really on Thursday). He went hunting in the morning while I finished up some homework, then we went out for lunch. After lunch we drove to the cemetery together for the first time since Asher's funeral. I held my dear Honey's hand as we walked around looking at the headstones of many new and old (some as old as 1943) baby graves until finally we came to our own baby. I had to surrender it all again. I cried into Nolan's shirt as I have so many other times this past year. He held my hand as we walked back to the car and barely choked out, with a lump-in-your-throat voice, "That sucks." Which is not something we say in jest or lightly anymore.....
These are a few pictures of his headstone that Nolan picked out. Every time I look at it I think of how much thought Nolan put into picking this one. And how he made sure to get one that had a vase because he knew I would want to bring flowers out there. I took these on the day I wrote the Cornflowers and Queen Anne's Lace post back in July.
The second stanza of I Surrender All is the one (for now) I most identify with and it goes like this:
All to Jesus I surrender;
Humbly at His feet I bow,
Worldly pleasures all forsaken;
Take me, Jesus, take me now.
Refrain:
I surrender all,
I surrender all;
All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.
I sat next to my husband and while other's sang Nolan and I sobbed along with our families on both sides. I know that was one of the times the Holy Spirit prayed for me because I could not pray..... I could only sob.
I got a fresh lesson on surrendering on Saturday. Nolan and I spent the day celebrating our belated 4th anniversary (It was really on Thursday). He went hunting in the morning while I finished up some homework, then we went out for lunch. After lunch we drove to the cemetery together for the first time since Asher's funeral. I held my dear Honey's hand as we walked around looking at the headstones of many new and old (some as old as 1943) baby graves until finally we came to our own baby. I had to surrender it all again. I cried into Nolan's shirt as I have so many other times this past year. He held my hand as we walked back to the car and barely choked out, with a lump-in-your-throat voice, "That sucks." Which is not something we say in jest or lightly anymore.....
The second stanza of I Surrender All is the one (for now) I most identify with and it goes like this:
All to Jesus I surrender;
Humbly at His feet I bow,
Worldly pleasures all forsaken;
Take me, Jesus, take me now.
Refrain:
I surrender all,
I surrender all;
All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.
A few days ago my sister-in-law (she's so wise) sent me a link to another blog. This particular post was about cutting the bungee cords of the past so you can live in the now and not be continually bounced backward. I have been thinking about this and I know that I want to really live in the now. But I also know it is not as simple as just "cutting the bungee cords". I think it has more to do with surrendering. Surrendering my sadness...... my pain...... my longing to hold on to every little detail of Asher. And surrendering my fear of the future. It's easier, in a way, to live in the past. I already know what happened.... nothing to surprise me and turn my world upside-down again. I don't know what tomorrow holds or next year or in 10 years. I guess I will just keep surrendering and ask for the strength and courage to live in today. In His presence I daily live.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Some of the Things I Will Never Forget
Monday was our ultrasound. We are having a........................ HUMAN BABY!!!! Yes!! Score!! Just kidding, we're going to have a baby GIRL!
And she is truly already SOOO much like her big sis. She even lays in the same position already as Vera while I was pregnant with her. We don't have a name picked out yet but we do have a 'Master List', of which we slowly marking off names. She was so energetic under the wand. It was beautiful to watch her move. And the technician even mentioned how she was "rolling around" but not so much making huge kicks. She waved at us a few times and it warmed her mamma's heart. : ) This is the first thing I will never forget.... the feeling of wonder and privilege and blessing I felt while seeing my new baby girl. Peaking into her world and knowing that God has blessed me with one more. I have felt these feelings before and wasn't sure if I'd let myself "go there" again this time.
2) I will never forget the peace I had in the midst of learning my son was dead. I had heard others talk about the peace that passes all understanding but to experience it for myself was life changing. I was still terribly, horribly devastated, but I had peace. I cannot understand or explain it, but I had it.
3) I will never forget the kindness of my nurse, Anne. If you are a nurse, know that YOUR kindness toward a patient may impact their lives forever.
4) I will never forget being moved to the cancer ward after having Asher. The nurses didn't want me to have to stay in Mother/Baby when I had no baby. The first shower I took was in Oncology. When the warm water hit my back it reminded me that the last shower I had was while in labor. Back in this shower I looked down and saw a bit of bright red, post-baby blood run down my leg, across the floor and down into the drain. I sat down on a chair inside the shower and cried again. When we went to order flowers 2 days later I could not even look at, let alone buy the red roses. That color hurt my heart.
5) I will never forget the profound sadness of those around me. The hurt I saw in their eyes. I saw questioning in their eyes. For a moment even the strongest, most mature Christians I know were shocked with God's decision to allow the death of a baby. They too had to face the ugliness of sin and death and ask God again if he was truly good. It helped me to know I was not alone in my doubt.
6) I will never forget my dad holding Asher after his body had gone cold and saying while sobbing, "I just can't get him warm. I just can't get him warm."
7) I will never forget the instant fiery anger of my mother when she first arrived at the hospital.
8) I will never forget waking up to find my mother-in-law holding Asher and singing to him. For one split second I wondered if he was alive and I'd dreamed it all.
9) I will never forget explaining all of this to Vera and the fact that she was mad at us and didn't want to talk about it.
10) I will never forget the message my sister-in-law sent me. And how she cared for me up close when she could and from a distance when she's couldn't be here.
11) I will never forget the day of the funeral. It is eternally burned into my mind. Every single thing about that day. Nolan and I driving to the church. How the funeral home forgot to bring the casket spray. Riding in the funeral home's limo to the gravesite. Wishing I could shoot a paintball at every car that didn't pull over for the funeral procession. How the yucky gray sky opened up for just a few minutes and the sun shown down on Asher's casket. Laughing with good friends at the dinner afterward.
12) I will never forget the night Nolan went back to work. I laid down in bed with one of Vera's baby dolls and stared at the empty bassinet. Empty was and still is some days how I feel.
13) I will never forget this past year. The kindness and compassion of others. The surrealism of it all. The darkness of the nighttime. The swallow-you-whole grief. And the days of intense, almost shocking joy.
14) I will never forget my son. I don't expect anyone else to remember, it's beautiful when they do, but I don't expect it. But I will always remember.
And she is truly already SOOO much like her big sis. She even lays in the same position already as Vera while I was pregnant with her. We don't have a name picked out yet but we do have a 'Master List', of which we slowly marking off names. She was so energetic under the wand. It was beautiful to watch her move. And the technician even mentioned how she was "rolling around" but not so much making huge kicks. She waved at us a few times and it warmed her mamma's heart. : ) This is the first thing I will never forget.... the feeling of wonder and privilege and blessing I felt while seeing my new baby girl. Peaking into her world and knowing that God has blessed me with one more. I have felt these feelings before and wasn't sure if I'd let myself "go there" again this time.
2) I will never forget the peace I had in the midst of learning my son was dead. I had heard others talk about the peace that passes all understanding but to experience it for myself was life changing. I was still terribly, horribly devastated, but I had peace. I cannot understand or explain it, but I had it.
3) I will never forget the kindness of my nurse, Anne. If you are a nurse, know that YOUR kindness toward a patient may impact their lives forever.
4) I will never forget being moved to the cancer ward after having Asher. The nurses didn't want me to have to stay in Mother/Baby when I had no baby. The first shower I took was in Oncology. When the warm water hit my back it reminded me that the last shower I had was while in labor. Back in this shower I looked down and saw a bit of bright red, post-baby blood run down my leg, across the floor and down into the drain. I sat down on a chair inside the shower and cried again. When we went to order flowers 2 days later I could not even look at, let alone buy the red roses. That color hurt my heart.
5) I will never forget the profound sadness of those around me. The hurt I saw in their eyes. I saw questioning in their eyes. For a moment even the strongest, most mature Christians I know were shocked with God's decision to allow the death of a baby. They too had to face the ugliness of sin and death and ask God again if he was truly good. It helped me to know I was not alone in my doubt.
6) I will never forget my dad holding Asher after his body had gone cold and saying while sobbing, "I just can't get him warm. I just can't get him warm."
7) I will never forget the instant fiery anger of my mother when she first arrived at the hospital.
8) I will never forget waking up to find my mother-in-law holding Asher and singing to him. For one split second I wondered if he was alive and I'd dreamed it all.
9) I will never forget explaining all of this to Vera and the fact that she was mad at us and didn't want to talk about it.
10) I will never forget the message my sister-in-law sent me. And how she cared for me up close when she could and from a distance when she's couldn't be here.
11) I will never forget the day of the funeral. It is eternally burned into my mind. Every single thing about that day. Nolan and I driving to the church. How the funeral home forgot to bring the casket spray. Riding in the funeral home's limo to the gravesite. Wishing I could shoot a paintball at every car that didn't pull over for the funeral procession. How the yucky gray sky opened up for just a few minutes and the sun shown down on Asher's casket. Laughing with good friends at the dinner afterward.
12) I will never forget the night Nolan went back to work. I laid down in bed with one of Vera's baby dolls and stared at the empty bassinet. Empty was and still is some days how I feel.
13) I will never forget this past year. The kindness and compassion of others. The surrealism of it all. The darkness of the nighttime. The swallow-you-whole grief. And the days of intense, almost shocking joy.
14) I will never forget my son. I don't expect anyone else to remember, it's beautiful when they do, but I don't expect it. But I will always remember.
Monday, September 26, 2011
The Graceful Fish
I went to bed at 10pm and now it's almost 1am. I laid in bed for two hours having pretend conversations with people in my head (oh like YOU don't do that too), imagining what would happen tomorrow at the ultrasound, and deconstructing today's events. I have never been able to sleep the night before the Big Reveal, I just get too amped up. My brain keeps trying to power down but then I have another thought and WHAMM-O! I'm wide awake again. Our appt. is at 8:25am, and it takes and hour to get to where we are going (more about this ridiculousness later), so that means the alarm will go off at 5:50am. Incase you don't feel like doing the math that is less than 5 hours from now. Oh well.
I told Nolan this evening that I am afraid to get excited to see our new baby. And I actually feel apprehensive about going. I was crying out to God this last Friday and saying over and over "I can't love anymore. I can't." I can't take that chance anymore. This gaping hole is so deep and wide, I can't love anymore. God just let me cry. I never expected to try and steal my heart against love. I never wanted to, and have always believed in the old adage; It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but right now that doesn't feel 100% true. I know I should pull myself up by my bootstraps, step back and look at the whole picture. I know I should see my circumstances through the lenses of Christ. I know I should.... but it won't come right now.
This baby is moving as I sit here blogging. He/She doesn't move a whole lot..... enough, but not a ton; this baby really only moves at night - or at least that's when I feel it most. Around 11pm or so I start to feel a lot of movement, not enough to keep me awake, but enough to remind me to breath because this baby is alive and okay tonight. It feels like a large goldfish inside my belly. They are not the sharp kicks and punches of a kung-fu fighter, but more the rolling, twisting, quick, yet careful movements of a graceful dancer. I wonder if this says anything about this child or if I'm just letting my mind lead me around by the nose again. Perhaps this child will be deliberate in their thoughts and actions. Perhaps if it is a girl she will have a natural fluidity that I have never possessed. Maybe other's will be drawn to her poise and grace. Or will she be gifted with the powers of silver tongue. Perhaps if it is a boy he will have the natural stalking prowess of his father. Perhaps this is a child who will walk and not run, converse and not shout, day-dream about adventure. I feel that maybe this will be a careful child, a pondering child. But, again, maybe my imagination is simply getting the best of me.
I feel like I can hardly wait to be done with this pregnancy. I just simply want so skip ahead to February. It seems like such a long time away. It will go by fast from here on out though..... October to February are always a whirlwind around here. I still don't want to wait. By waiting I feel as though I'm tempting fate to strike again..... giving death one more chance to pounce. But I will wait. And wait, and wait. And baby #3 will come sooner than it seems.
I told Nolan this evening that I am afraid to get excited to see our new baby. And I actually feel apprehensive about going. I was crying out to God this last Friday and saying over and over "I can't love anymore. I can't." I can't take that chance anymore. This gaping hole is so deep and wide, I can't love anymore. God just let me cry. I never expected to try and steal my heart against love. I never wanted to, and have always believed in the old adage; It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but right now that doesn't feel 100% true. I know I should pull myself up by my bootstraps, step back and look at the whole picture. I know I should see my circumstances through the lenses of Christ. I know I should.... but it won't come right now.
This baby is moving as I sit here blogging. He/She doesn't move a whole lot..... enough, but not a ton; this baby really only moves at night - or at least that's when I feel it most. Around 11pm or so I start to feel a lot of movement, not enough to keep me awake, but enough to remind me to breath because this baby is alive and okay tonight. It feels like a large goldfish inside my belly. They are not the sharp kicks and punches of a kung-fu fighter, but more the rolling, twisting, quick, yet careful movements of a graceful dancer. I wonder if this says anything about this child or if I'm just letting my mind lead me around by the nose again. Perhaps this child will be deliberate in their thoughts and actions. Perhaps if it is a girl she will have a natural fluidity that I have never possessed. Maybe other's will be drawn to her poise and grace. Or will she be gifted with the powers of silver tongue. Perhaps if it is a boy he will have the natural stalking prowess of his father. Perhaps this is a child who will walk and not run, converse and not shout, day-dream about adventure. I feel that maybe this will be a careful child, a pondering child. But, again, maybe my imagination is simply getting the best of me.
I feel like I can hardly wait to be done with this pregnancy. I just simply want so skip ahead to February. It seems like such a long time away. It will go by fast from here on out though..... October to February are always a whirlwind around here. I still don't want to wait. By waiting I feel as though I'm tempting fate to strike again..... giving death one more chance to pounce. But I will wait. And wait, and wait. And baby #3 will come sooner than it seems.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Disappointment and His Trusty Side-kick, No Hope
When I was small I loved Disney movies. I wanted to be Cinderella. Or Bell. Or Mulan. I wanted to have grand adventures with a handsome prince to save me when I got in over my head. I wanted to be loved so fiercely that nothing would stop my Love from getting to me. I wanted the evil witch to die. I wanted to live happily ever after with said prince in a beautiful castle. And for a very long time I lived in the delusion that life would most certainly turn out this way for me. That if I just dreamed hard enough my life would be a fairy tale.
I still enjoy Disney movies, but not in the same way as before. Now they are merely empty stories. And this cynicism continues to grow. I don't believe in happily ever after. I just don't. Not in this life on this earth anyway. Disappointment has gotten the best of me. Things are not and have not turned out the way I thought they should or the way I planned. For so long I've tried to hold on to the hope that everything will work out, but it's not. And it won't. I turn the radio off when someone begins telling a story where good things finally showed up. Where a change happened. But I'm worn out with hoping and dreaming and wishing. If I don't hope and dream I cannot be disappointed. If I don't get up I can't be let down.
It sure seems like a crappy attitude, but it's really a form of self preservation. I can't keep playing a game expecting to win only to loose every time. Eventually you just quit playing. My capacity to keep hoping is so empty, its like trying to fill a bucket from a dry well. It's not simply from loosing Asher...... it's loosing Asher on top of all the other things I don't talk about here because it wouldn't be appropriate.
And the worst thing about my cynical attitude is that it doesn't allow me to rejoice when other people's dreams do actually come true. Always in the back of my mind is the thought that something will ruin it, something will turn the good into bad. They'll see.
I still enjoy Disney movies, but not in the same way as before. Now they are merely empty stories. And this cynicism continues to grow. I don't believe in happily ever after. I just don't. Not in this life on this earth anyway. Disappointment has gotten the best of me. Things are not and have not turned out the way I thought they should or the way I planned. For so long I've tried to hold on to the hope that everything will work out, but it's not. And it won't. I turn the radio off when someone begins telling a story where good things finally showed up. Where a change happened. But I'm worn out with hoping and dreaming and wishing. If I don't hope and dream I cannot be disappointed. If I don't get up I can't be let down.
It sure seems like a crappy attitude, but it's really a form of self preservation. I can't keep playing a game expecting to win only to loose every time. Eventually you just quit playing. My capacity to keep hoping is so empty, its like trying to fill a bucket from a dry well. It's not simply from loosing Asher...... it's loosing Asher on top of all the other things I don't talk about here because it wouldn't be appropriate.
And the worst thing about my cynical attitude is that it doesn't allow me to rejoice when other people's dreams do actually come true. Always in the back of my mind is the thought that something will ruin it, something will turn the good into bad. They'll see.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
The Russian Mafia and a Bottle of Moscato d'Asti
Walking in this place I could tell my husband had put a ton of thought into dinner that night. It was dark, secluded, lit candles on the tables with barely enough ambient lighting to see what you were eating. Nolan, who was wearing a charcoal gray suite walked up to the hostess desk where, to my shock, THEY greeted HIM!
"Hello Mr. Ritchie. Wine tonight??" I was in such shock I didn't even hear the rest of the conversation, but simply followed my husband to his "usual seat". Vera, our 3 year old daughter, was walking beside me and wanted to know when they were going to turn the lights on. I laughed and told her they didn't have anymore lights to turn on. Our babysitter had canceled on us this evening so we decided to bring her along. She was loving it.
When we arrived at the table, another surprise awaited us. Our table already had 2 people sitting there. The woman was a short, with thin, square glasses. She wore her red hair in a neat bun at the back of her neck and a simple, long, black dress with short-sleeves. The man at the table was wearing a suite. But in the dark I couldn't tell if it was black or dark gray. His hair was black and gelled into a slick backward swoop - not attractive. He too wore glasses but they were clearly only for reading as he was looking down his nose through them, seemingly engrossed in a russian novel called под землей or Underground (I learned a bit of Russian in college, but nothing enough to speak it fluently).
He looked up at us as we approached and with worry in his voice said, "Ritchie. Glad you made it. Sit down. Something has come up."
Next the woman (who's name I later learned was Jean) turned the computer she was ferociously typing on toward us. It was a video of a tank driving through a city and gunning down whomever happened to be there. Nolan covered my eyes just as a pregnant woman and her small child walked around the corner of a building into direct view of the tank. When he uncovered them again the video had ended and Jean was turning the computer back toward herself.
Suddenly Nolan started speaking russian in a low, dangerous voice. I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HE SPOKE RUSSIAN! I know he said 'wife' and 'daughter', 'danger', and 'night off'. Next Case (the man) and Jean started to argue back - not in english, thanks. My head was spinning by now, what in the name of all that is sweet and savory was going on?? That's when I spotted it... the bottle of my favorite wine, Moscato d'Asti. I grabbed it up, ripped out the cork and poured myself a generous glass. I downed that, and poured another; which I had the good sense to drink a bit slower.
While these strangers were arguing with my husband the server showed up again with a booster seat for Vera and she and I sat down. Thankfully I brought crayons and a notebook and that kept Vera entertained. Eventually Nolan also sat down, but the frown on his face went almost to his knees. I asked him what was going on, and who were these people. I should have drank another glass of wine before hearing what he had to say next. "Darling", he said (I nearly swoon when he calls me that) "I am a member of THE counter intelligence agency - as in CIA. And the people sitting across from me are my bosses. They have decided that tonight we will not be having a nice quiet dinner, but instead taking out the top 12 leaders of the russian mafia.
It took a few minutes of silence for me to process this. And yet, when I finally spoke, "Ok, but we have to feed Vera first. Otherwise she'll be cranky the rest of the night.", was what came out. Really?? Mom mode?? Always?? My husband is taking me on the first ever CIA take-out mission date and I'm worried about food?? Well, luckily Jane had already taken care of this. Immediately a server came out with 2 large bags filled with to-go dishes and a giant container of warm garlic bread.
In the blink of an eye Case, Jane, and Nolan had all swooped out of their seats, packed away anything that needed to be taken with us and hurried Vera and I out the door (I made sure to tuck away the rest of that bottle of wine) and into a white SUV that happened to be waiting for us. Our driver was a woman about my age with straight black hair. We piled in, (Vera's car seat was already strapped in???) and off we went. Vera and I were all the way in the very back with the food, so I proceeded to open the bags and pass things out. Vera snacked on bread while I passed out the rest. Jane and Case ate hungrily as if they had not consumed a bit of food for days. Nolan crunched through his food while reading the report on tonight's mission. While chewing through my wild mushroom and pumpkin ravioli it occurred to me that we were not IN Russia. Um, were we GOING to Russia? So I asked. As it turned out, the 12 men we were after were in the United States and planning another tank killing spree in the nations capital. But for now, they weren't even in D.C., they were holding a jam session in a bar just 20mins drive from the restaurant. As our driver, Case, Jane, and Nolan kept talking about The Plan, I began to feel sick. Really sick. What if Nolan got killed. What if Vera got killed. What if they killed everyone but Vera and then took her away to live in Russia?? What if, what if, what if......???? But I didn't have long to stew because just then the SUV slowed down and the three operatives jumped out. They were heading for an old style building with a lot of people inside having a meal and apparently singing. We kept driving, but slowly and in circles around the block trying to keep an eye on our agents. I wasn't sure what was happening, but suddenly I knew that something had gone wrong. The mafia had Case and were chasing Nolan and Jean in an antique black Ford. Jean ran toward us and I reached out the window just in time to grab the front of her coat and dress. I pulled her in through the window and yelled, "Where's Nolan??!!". She pointed to a fierce looking woman driving the vintage car. She had ahold of Nolan's collar and was dragging him along the road.
Just in front of us the rest of the mob had Case and were beating the daylights out of him. They threw him into the car and I shouted to the driver to run over the mob men. She did so and they tumbled like bowling pins. As we passed the car I jumped out of ours and into the Ford. Then I began to beat the fierce woman with every part of my body I could use. She let go of Nolan to fight me off. When her attention wasn't split she surely had the upper hand and began to bash me about the face. Fortunately Case woke just then and shot her in the head. The blood spattered on me.... at this point I threw my head over the side of the car and hurled. When I'd recovered, I noticed Nolan was holding my hair back. Somehow he'd gotten into the car and was swiftly taking out the remaining mob members who had survived the run down with the SUV; which was about 30 yards in front of us now. Once the mob was dead, we signaled to our vehicle to stop. Case, Nolan and I climbed out of the Ford and into the SUV. I hugged my baby girl and cried while Nolan held me until we got home. He first carried Vera in, she had fallen asleep on the ride, and then came back for me. I told him I could walk, but he just carried me anyway. He laid down in bed next to me and I cried myself to sleep.
And this is why I never get good sleep. Because in my dreams I'm helping to fight the Russian Mafia because my husband is in the CIA.
"Hello Mr. Ritchie. Wine tonight??" I was in such shock I didn't even hear the rest of the conversation, but simply followed my husband to his "usual seat". Vera, our 3 year old daughter, was walking beside me and wanted to know when they were going to turn the lights on. I laughed and told her they didn't have anymore lights to turn on. Our babysitter had canceled on us this evening so we decided to bring her along. She was loving it.
When we arrived at the table, another surprise awaited us. Our table already had 2 people sitting there. The woman was a short, with thin, square glasses. She wore her red hair in a neat bun at the back of her neck and a simple, long, black dress with short-sleeves. The man at the table was wearing a suite. But in the dark I couldn't tell if it was black or dark gray. His hair was black and gelled into a slick backward swoop - not attractive. He too wore glasses but they were clearly only for reading as he was looking down his nose through them, seemingly engrossed in a russian novel called под землей or Underground (I learned a bit of Russian in college, but nothing enough to speak it fluently).
He looked up at us as we approached and with worry in his voice said, "Ritchie. Glad you made it. Sit down. Something has come up."
Next the woman (who's name I later learned was Jean) turned the computer she was ferociously typing on toward us. It was a video of a tank driving through a city and gunning down whomever happened to be there. Nolan covered my eyes just as a pregnant woman and her small child walked around the corner of a building into direct view of the tank. When he uncovered them again the video had ended and Jean was turning the computer back toward herself.
Suddenly Nolan started speaking russian in a low, dangerous voice. I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HE SPOKE RUSSIAN! I know he said 'wife' and 'daughter', 'danger', and 'night off'. Next Case (the man) and Jean started to argue back - not in english, thanks. My head was spinning by now, what in the name of all that is sweet and savory was going on?? That's when I spotted it... the bottle of my favorite wine, Moscato d'Asti. I grabbed it up, ripped out the cork and poured myself a generous glass. I downed that, and poured another; which I had the good sense to drink a bit slower.
While these strangers were arguing with my husband the server showed up again with a booster seat for Vera and she and I sat down. Thankfully I brought crayons and a notebook and that kept Vera entertained. Eventually Nolan also sat down, but the frown on his face went almost to his knees. I asked him what was going on, and who were these people. I should have drank another glass of wine before hearing what he had to say next. "Darling", he said (I nearly swoon when he calls me that) "I am a member of THE counter intelligence agency - as in CIA. And the people sitting across from me are my bosses. They have decided that tonight we will not be having a nice quiet dinner, but instead taking out the top 12 leaders of the russian mafia.
It took a few minutes of silence for me to process this. And yet, when I finally spoke, "Ok, but we have to feed Vera first. Otherwise she'll be cranky the rest of the night.", was what came out. Really?? Mom mode?? Always?? My husband is taking me on the first ever CIA take-out mission date and I'm worried about food?? Well, luckily Jane had already taken care of this. Immediately a server came out with 2 large bags filled with to-go dishes and a giant container of warm garlic bread.
In the blink of an eye Case, Jane, and Nolan had all swooped out of their seats, packed away anything that needed to be taken with us and hurried Vera and I out the door (I made sure to tuck away the rest of that bottle of wine) and into a white SUV that happened to be waiting for us. Our driver was a woman about my age with straight black hair. We piled in, (Vera's car seat was already strapped in???) and off we went. Vera and I were all the way in the very back with the food, so I proceeded to open the bags and pass things out. Vera snacked on bread while I passed out the rest. Jane and Case ate hungrily as if they had not consumed a bit of food for days. Nolan crunched through his food while reading the report on tonight's mission. While chewing through my wild mushroom and pumpkin ravioli it occurred to me that we were not IN Russia. Um, were we GOING to Russia? So I asked. As it turned out, the 12 men we were after were in the United States and planning another tank killing spree in the nations capital. But for now, they weren't even in D.C., they were holding a jam session in a bar just 20mins drive from the restaurant. As our driver, Case, Jane, and Nolan kept talking about The Plan, I began to feel sick. Really sick. What if Nolan got killed. What if Vera got killed. What if they killed everyone but Vera and then took her away to live in Russia?? What if, what if, what if......???? But I didn't have long to stew because just then the SUV slowed down and the three operatives jumped out. They were heading for an old style building with a lot of people inside having a meal and apparently singing. We kept driving, but slowly and in circles around the block trying to keep an eye on our agents. I wasn't sure what was happening, but suddenly I knew that something had gone wrong. The mafia had Case and were chasing Nolan and Jean in an antique black Ford. Jean ran toward us and I reached out the window just in time to grab the front of her coat and dress. I pulled her in through the window and yelled, "Where's Nolan??!!". She pointed to a fierce looking woman driving the vintage car. She had ahold of Nolan's collar and was dragging him along the road.
Just in front of us the rest of the mob had Case and were beating the daylights out of him. They threw him into the car and I shouted to the driver to run over the mob men. She did so and they tumbled like bowling pins. As we passed the car I jumped out of ours and into the Ford. Then I began to beat the fierce woman with every part of my body I could use. She let go of Nolan to fight me off. When her attention wasn't split she surely had the upper hand and began to bash me about the face. Fortunately Case woke just then and shot her in the head. The blood spattered on me.... at this point I threw my head over the side of the car and hurled. When I'd recovered, I noticed Nolan was holding my hair back. Somehow he'd gotten into the car and was swiftly taking out the remaining mob members who had survived the run down with the SUV; which was about 30 yards in front of us now. Once the mob was dead, we signaled to our vehicle to stop. Case, Nolan and I climbed out of the Ford and into the SUV. I hugged my baby girl and cried while Nolan held me until we got home. He first carried Vera in, she had fallen asleep on the ride, and then came back for me. I told him I could walk, but he just carried me anyway. He laid down in bed next to me and I cried myself to sleep.
And this is why I never get good sleep. Because in my dreams I'm helping to fight the Russian Mafia because my husband is in the CIA.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Nothing Deep to Say Today
Tomorrow I'm going to start an Art Therapy group at BSU. I have to have a meeting with the therapists first so they can make sure I'm right for this group and that I'm not going to hurt anyone once I get there. I'm VERY excited about it. I got the email about a week ago and really felt like it would be a good idea (and if it turns out to be dumb, I don't have to keep going). I was thinking this week that if I had gotten the email any earlier in my grief journey I may not have been receptive to it. I mean..... psh!, I've got my act together of course... I don't need anyone else's help or opinions. I certainly don't need some newbie shrink telling me to draw a picture of my grief or whatever. OK, so maybe I do alright? But don't tell anyone.
Anyway, I had a check-up last week and it went great as usual. My pee was perfect.... my blood pressure was perfect..... my uterus was perfect..... the baby is perfect. So, incase you missed it, I'm practically perfect in every way (name that movie!). I so wish I could video tape a check-up/baby appointment with my midwife. It is SOOO different from going to the Dr. She wants to know if my body is healthy but she also wants to make sure my mind/emotions and spiritual life are healthy too. Mind, Body, and Spirit. Isn't that what I learned in 7th grade health class?? Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I'll have my ultrasound soon.... I'll let you know when I have it and - if I can figure out how - I'll post some pictures too. :)
School has been cracking down hard core this week. Lots of homework and very little time to do it. That's why I'm avoiding it by blogging. ........ Hum, seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm only taking 2 classes (its all I need to apply to the program I'm trying to get into come spring) Comm 210 (speech class) and Chemistry 100. Basic stuff, but the homework is dreadful. I have 37 assignments due by FRIDAY!!!!!! And 2 papers and a speech. Whoo Hoo! So now I should get off here and go to sleep so my brain will function enough to do my homework tomorrow. So, here's to Art Therapy and knowing that you're perfect.
Anyway, I had a check-up last week and it went great as usual. My pee was perfect.... my blood pressure was perfect..... my uterus was perfect..... the baby is perfect. So, incase you missed it, I'm practically perfect in every way (name that movie!). I so wish I could video tape a check-up/baby appointment with my midwife. It is SOOO different from going to the Dr. She wants to know if my body is healthy but she also wants to make sure my mind/emotions and spiritual life are healthy too. Mind, Body, and Spirit. Isn't that what I learned in 7th grade health class?? Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I'll have my ultrasound soon.... I'll let you know when I have it and - if I can figure out how - I'll post some pictures too. :)
School has been cracking down hard core this week. Lots of homework and very little time to do it. That's why I'm avoiding it by blogging. ........ Hum, seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm only taking 2 classes (its all I need to apply to the program I'm trying to get into come spring) Comm 210 (speech class) and Chemistry 100. Basic stuff, but the homework is dreadful. I have 37 assignments due by FRIDAY!!!!!! And 2 papers and a speech. Whoo Hoo! So now I should get off here and go to sleep so my brain will function enough to do my homework tomorrow. So, here's to Art Therapy and knowing that you're perfect.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
I'm gonna level with ya. I'm afraid.
I'm not in a great place right now. Haven't been for about a month. I was just fine until we heard Baby3's beating heart. One would assume (I thought) this would take away much of my anxiety and worry. I was under the impression that hearing that tiny little 'paw-paw-paw-paw-paw' sound on the doppler would help me breath a sigh of relief. But it, unexpectedly did exactly the opposite. I am not sure why, but I think, MAYBE it was because before that, this baby wasn't concrete in my mind and soul and heart. That is one theory. I have others but I can't remember them right now.
For the last month I have had a migraine nearly every day. My midwife and chiropractor have been keeping me in amazing physical health. Both keeping a close eye on my body, and working in collaboration to find the source of this pain. While my neck HAS actually been out of alignment in a bad way, it is a physical symptom of an emotional and spiritual problem. It is outward pain caused by inward pain. Have you ever heard someone who is feeling stressed say, "I feel like everything is just piling on top of my head."? Well, that is how I feel and my body is reacting to those feelings by having physical symptoms of actual weight placed on top of my head. So pain in my neck, head, back, knees, and feet.
I have always known that when a person is under great pressure it takes a physical toll on their body, but I never imagined that a body could act as if it really were under literal pressure. And because Asher's death happened after the official onset of labor, I believe I will continue to feel this fear until a breathing, pink baby is in my arms.
A good friend of mine helped me see a bit of light this week. I was telling her about how afraid I am. And about how I so badly don't want to feel fear because I know that fear is not from God. And then she said this; God knows that you are going to fear. He knew how hard this was going to be for you. What He wants is when you feel those feelings of fear that you take it to him. Over and over again. (This is paraphrased, but as close as I can remember.) It was a lightbulb turning on. God doesn't want me to not feel those feelings that creep up on me, but he does want me to take it to him every single time. And not dwell in a place of anxiety and worry. And that is really where I have been. I have been physically ill and also taking my stress out on Vera and Nolan. This is not O.K.
Rush Limbaugh once said, "You don't need courage for the moment your are struck, but for the long climb back to faith, sanity, and security." I think this is one of the truest statements ever made. Truly this is a man who had experienced great struggle and grief and fear.
I fear 10-20 times a day that this baby inside me has died. I have compulsions to speed over to the E.R.
and have an emergency ultrasound just to check on things.
I fear that God will take Vera.
I fear that God will take this baby. So I want a doppler to check on this baby every day, many times a
day.
I fear that the economy will collapse and Nolan will loose he job and we won't have money pay rent or
buy groceries.
I fear that my stress because of my fear will kill this baby.
Oh how the list does go on; however I will not live and act from a place of fear. I will take it to the cross.
For the last month I have had a migraine nearly every day. My midwife and chiropractor have been keeping me in amazing physical health. Both keeping a close eye on my body, and working in collaboration to find the source of this pain. While my neck HAS actually been out of alignment in a bad way, it is a physical symptom of an emotional and spiritual problem. It is outward pain caused by inward pain. Have you ever heard someone who is feeling stressed say, "I feel like everything is just piling on top of my head."? Well, that is how I feel and my body is reacting to those feelings by having physical symptoms of actual weight placed on top of my head. So pain in my neck, head, back, knees, and feet.
I have always known that when a person is under great pressure it takes a physical toll on their body, but I never imagined that a body could act as if it really were under literal pressure. And because Asher's death happened after the official onset of labor, I believe I will continue to feel this fear until a breathing, pink baby is in my arms.
A good friend of mine helped me see a bit of light this week. I was telling her about how afraid I am. And about how I so badly don't want to feel fear because I know that fear is not from God. And then she said this; God knows that you are going to fear. He knew how hard this was going to be for you. What He wants is when you feel those feelings of fear that you take it to him. Over and over again. (This is paraphrased, but as close as I can remember.) It was a lightbulb turning on. God doesn't want me to not feel those feelings that creep up on me, but he does want me to take it to him every single time. And not dwell in a place of anxiety and worry. And that is really where I have been. I have been physically ill and also taking my stress out on Vera and Nolan. This is not O.K.
Rush Limbaugh once said, "You don't need courage for the moment your are struck, but for the long climb back to faith, sanity, and security." I think this is one of the truest statements ever made. Truly this is a man who had experienced great struggle and grief and fear.
I fear 10-20 times a day that this baby inside me has died. I have compulsions to speed over to the E.R.
and have an emergency ultrasound just to check on things.
I fear that God will take Vera.
I fear that God will take this baby. So I want a doppler to check on this baby every day, many times a
day.
I fear that the economy will collapse and Nolan will loose he job and we won't have money pay rent or
buy groceries.
I fear that my stress because of my fear will kill this baby.
Oh how the list does go on; however I will not live and act from a place of fear. I will take it to the cross.
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