Unexpected Heartache

Someone wise (don't ask me who) once said something about every gain in life coming with a loss, and although the gain is great, you will still grieve for what you've lost in exchange.

Such truth.

Each move in my life has brought grief for the people and the place left behind. Even marriage brought some emotion on the opportunities no longer available. Becoming a mom has brought a giving up (hopefully temporary) of freedoms and adventures for myself and my husband and I as a couple.

But this one, I have not expected. I was not warned. I was not mentally prepared. It's a grief that has bruised my heart, although not broken.

I have lost...

In a sense, I have lost my little girl. My sweet Madison Grace.

She is no longer mine to keep to myself. Or rather, I am no longer hers to let her have to herself.

My "gain", my sweet ladybug, Eden Rene'. Whom I love just as deeply, with just as much passion and heart as I love my Madison.

But Madison was mine for almost two whole years. Whatever I did, I did with her by my side, and that is the point of what I write now. NOT that I don't love my Eden and want as much for her as I do Madison.

When Eden was born I wasn't expecting to grieve my time with Madison. It took my heart by surprise. The first few days home with Eden I found myself so incredibly tired and warn out, yet truly missing and wanting to play with Madison when I could... although I should have been attempting to sleep!

More then once in the first few days I would find a moment and sit on the floor to play, and Madison actually ran from me. Well, more like turned away and walked to a different area. One time when I tried a little harder she actually went to the wall saying "no, no, no, no!"

That's when my heart truly started to ache and grieve. That's when it hit home.

I'm not only hers anymore.

After the first week things went mostly back to normal. Madison wanted to play and crawl all over me once again. But I had to  constantly tell her to be gentle, as I was usually holding Eden. I have learned to balance my time between an infant and a toddler's needs much more, but there are several times where I have to choose between play and rest, even if I don't get to sleep, or a clean home and food on the table. (By clean, I mean picked up)

Madison gets less one on one since Eden still nurses every 2 hours, and I feel as though I'm neglecting her when the monitor isn't on at night. As if not being able to hear her just in case she happens to wake and need something means I've neglected her. And then if she does wake, the fight for sleep overwhelms my body as I bump Aaron and ask him to see what's the matter.

I find myself believing I'm a mediocre mom for choosing sleep or a clean house when I should spend the extra time playing with her. Or when I'm easily frustrated with her innocent attempts to play when I'm trying to take care of Eden. Or when I let her play in the back yard and I simply sit and watch because I just need a moment. But it seems as though every time I "just need a moment", it's almost always at the sacrifice of Madison's time.

I wonder if she thinks I'm as "bad" of a mom as I feel at times.
I wonder at times if she misses the mom I was before Eden came home.

The other night she had climbed into her high chair to "play" while she waited for Aaron to bring her almost finished plate for dinner. She stood up on the foot rest and began to wiggle just enough for the high chair to roll backwards while her body's momentum went forward. She hit the tile floor flat, head and all. I was nursing Eden and found that all I could do was sit up straight, scared and frozen, and Aaron ran from the kitchen to catch her up in his arms.

She clung to him full of trust and love, looking for however he was going to make her feel better as she cried a deep, gulping cry that we have rarely heard from her.

My heart broke and I teared up at the whole thing, knowing it was the biggest fall she had ever had (Her head probably fell from 4 1/2 feet high). The next day I noticed a bruise and red line on the top ridge of her ear, where it had been pinched between her head and the floor from the fall. I can't wait until it's healed and unable to remind me of the whole thing. Otherwise, she was fine, and although she wouldn't eat any dinner and cried on and off the rest of the short evening until bed, she still tried to climb back up the next morning.

But my biggest heart ache... She clung to her daddy.

Not that I wasn't glad he was there, and I'm not jealous of his chance to love on her by any means.

But she has always chosen me when she was hurt. Even if Aaron got to her first and swept her up in his arms, she has always come to me next, or requested me through her tear fill eyes. I've always been able to comfort her hurts.

But this time, I had to choose. I chose to keep feeding Eden while watching Aaron comfort her. And I watched as she didn't turn to me. She didn't request me. She laid in his arms and shared her hurt with Aaron.

To a mother's heart this hurts. It hurts because it's a realization that she has become use to the fact that I won't always be there for her anymore. That I now have two children to love and tend to. And she "understood".

She has become use to sharing me enough that she didn't request me this time.

I know this isn't how the world will see the scene, and I know that my heart is exaggerating the emotions, but I know this is what my heart feels, and it's a legitimate feeling.

A feeling I wasn't prepared for.

I find myself almost over this time of grieving having myself only for Madison as I continue on this road of motherhood. But I thought, maybe if I share it will prepare some other mother's heart. Maybe it will just help me vent mine. Maybe it will just be something for someone to read and think, well isn't that sweet, she sure loves her little girls. And maybe another mom will relate and be grateful for distant kindred support. Maybe even comfort.

No matter what, know that with every gain, there is a loss that must be grieved, but what that wise person didn't know, or at least didn't say, is that with all grief there is healing and growth. I will learn how to be the best mother to my two little girls as long as I shall live. And I will be prepared to grow and share myself among all the children God chooses to put in our family. With the end of my grief, I will simply grow and thrive.

Let's face it, you just can't grieve the loss forever. God chose me to be the mother to my children, no matter what kind of a mother I think I am. Therefore, I will strive to be a good steward of his precious, precious gifts, and in doing so, I will learn to let them know I'll never have to choose who has more of me at a time.

I don't know how a mother does this yet, but God will teach me. It just takes a heart willing to learn, and I have to let go of the grief so my heart can focus on the learning.

Eden's eventful, intense, and overwhelming miracle birth

Our sweet little ladybug decided to say hello to this bright world on April Fool's day, which also happens to be Palm Sunday this year. Her birth was a great reminder of a triumphant entry, full of surprises that just don't happen to anyone! Not even us!

I have to admit, I don't like the sound of the month April. I've been praying throughout that God would allow us to have

a March baby, considering Eden's due date was only April 6th, I didn't think a week early was too much to ask. However, just as I preferred Madison be born in May (when her due date was) God had other plans!

(I have to admit, this will probably get long...)

I'd been having plenty of harder braxton hicks for a few hours almost each night for a week and half, but they never turned into anything. On the second to last day of March, I spent some great time with girl friends going to tea, getting pedicures, and just enjoying the day without our kids, or work. It was wonderful. (I'd been wanting to do this for months, and it finally work out, just in time!)

As I went to bed that night I asked Aaron, as I had every night for the last few weeks, if he thought Eden would come that night, and as usual, he said "maybe, but probably not." I felt a little sad at the predictable response, knowing that the next day was the very last day of March, and although a week early, I was hopeful. It was also one of the night's I didn't have any braxton hicks before bed, reminding me Aaron was most likely right.

I woke at 2:15 exactly with a hard contraction, but it didn't phase me at first. I went to the bathroom and laid back down. Just as I slipped off to sleep, there was another hard one, and my eyes shot open! "Don't get your hopes up" kept running through my mind. But around 3:30 there were enough for me to want to take a shower, so I woke Aaron to prevent from him waking up to me gone and not knowing what was going on. Long story short, we live an hour and fifteen minutes from the hospital, and my midwife was certain when I went into labor it would probably go fast, knowing how my early labor was with Madison, and I was already at 3 cm. dilated during my last visit just a day and a half before. So she advised me to come in if we had any thought this may be it, just to make sure we were there on time. So, around 5 we decided to head in, with contractions at 6 minutes apart. We joked about being that couple that shows up to early, but knew it was wiser this way. And we were that couple (just the first time in many ways we would soon find

out.) We had consistent and hard contractions, but nothing else was changing, and because my midwife was not on call, even though she put it in my file to call her no matter what, they wouldn't call unless it was active labor, and this was not. So, tired and disappointed, while still have contractions, we were home by lunch.

I tried to rest through out the day, which is very hard with contractions now 6-10 minutes apart, and continuing to exhaust me with their strength. By evening they were almost gone, and I had enough energy and motivation to clean the house, and try to forget that this was the very last day in March. I did NOT want an April Fool's Day baby, and was now beginning to pray it would hold off at least one more day.

But the night proved otherwise. I tried to sleep with no results. Move to the couch to sit up more, and still nothing helped. We called the hospital back around 1 am, asking if we were to come in would they do anything to help advance things, but they assured me they wouldn't on the weekend unless I was "active" and I was afraid I was still to inconsistent to be. So after a few tears of exhaustion at the realization that this was going to be how my night unfolded, I went back to bed. From 3-4 am I had really hard contractions every 10 minutes on the dot, waking Aaron with my very loud "relaxing techniques" each time.

Finally after going to the bathroom around 4, I discovered "show" in the toilet, and was excited. We were told to come in no matter what if we had this! I hollered for Aaron and he was up calling the neighbors to watch Madison. Within minutes I was starting cold chills, shakes and throwing up... a sign of transition, which means the baby is about to be here. I voiced the sudden urgency to Aaron and within minutes we were out the door. Fortunately everything was still in the car from the night before.

Little did we know the fun that was just about to begin!

We raced down our 8 mile, dirt, gravel and pot-hole laden driveway, which takes the average person about 25 minutes. We finished it in about 12, and I'm not sure how a few of those moments didn't result in a flat tire. But I was grateful the timing happened to mean only one contraction on the driveway, which he drove very careful for. (Such a wonderful man) And we were off.

About two miles from our exit, we watched and became anxious

as we realized our car was now out of gas and struggling up a hill. I must say, we have NEVER ran out of gas in my car, however, after such a tiring day before I just handed Aaron 10 in cash instead of just having him fill up the tank, knowing it had been enough plenty of times before to get me home and back to town once. I didn't think how gas prices happened to rise the last two weeks.

So, there we sat, out of gas. Aaron called 911 and gave the all to humorous line "We ran out of gas on the highway and my wife is in labor!". By now I'd calmed down and we felt contractions were far enough we didn't need EMS, or the EMS bill!

But man, did I have to pee!! So, I opened my car door and the passenger door behind me, so I was blocked on both sides from headlights, faced Aaron inside the car, and held onto the bottom door frame for support. What a terrible sight this pregnant woman must have been! I was sure the cops would show up and ticket me for indecent exposure in public at this point, but my thoughts were quickly distracted as I realized there was no way my pregnant bladder hat this much pee in it. But, it just kept coming and coming. I gave a little pressure to see if I was about done, but it just came faster and harder. I looked at Aaron as I was discussing my confusion and we both realized my water had just broke on the side of the highway, where we were out of gas and in labor at 5 am on April Fool's day! WHO DOES THAT!!! We laughed, but were nervous. After all, I'd reminded Aaron a few times on the d

rive out that as long as my water hadn't broken, we were not going to have a baby on the side of the highway....

Two police cars showed up about 10 minutes later and one took Aaron to pay for some gas while the other sat with me and nervously made small talk about having babies while I tried not to be too loud while contracting. Aaron returned and they diligently made sure out car started and saw us on our way.

We arrived and were at 7 cm dilated, and all I could think was how fast babies go from 7-10. If you know my story with Madison of course, we were at 6 cm. within 3 hours of knowing we were in labor, but stalled out at 7 for 3 hours and at 9 for 4 hours, mostly we assume because my water wouldn't break. But that was an exception right?? This was baby 2, and they tend to come faster, and the 7-10 cm wouldn't slow down twice for the same woman, right??? So the knowledge of being at 7 was exciting! And explained all the hard contractions.

My midwife was called and we began to walk the hospital, but after an hour and a half we realized all had stopped. Not just stopped, but halted. Contractions were pretty much gone, and Aaron and I were updating our status on facebook (something I made fun of women in labor for doing, because there's no way I could have done that in labor with

Madison!) Finally the idea of pitocin began to get throw around, and after 45 minutes of still nothing, we decided to go with it. I'd heard it's much more intense with pitocin, and I became nervous, but sure that it wouldn't be long. But the contractions came rolling every 3-5 minutes with great intensity, and out of nowhere. To go from nothing to this was overwhelming! I suddenly realized the value in having the early labor to build up over time and help you get use to what's to come.

I have yet to mention that ALL this time, from the very first morning we went to the hospital, we had overwhelming back labor, which I hadn't experienced with Madison. This labor was already completely different in the way it felt and was working over my body.

After a few hours we were STILL at 7 cm. They realized she wasn't tucking her head down, so the cone of her head wasn't helping my uterus to contract. We were walking, using a squatting bar, hands and knees, elbows and knees, light music, amazing counter pressure from Aaron on my back, all we could with the help an coaching of my WONDERFUL midwife.

I have to take a moment to mention how amazing she was! Our first midwife was mostly just there to catch (giving her credit that I was her 7th baby of the nigh

t) but Annette was there almost the entire day with us, helping to coach, rub, change positions, offer suggestions and support, and genuinely just care in our progress. She is also a Christian, and helped encourage me in the amazing ways God works. She wasn't even on call this weekend, and chose to give up her day to be with us. We were blessed!

After another hour or so, I was done. I requested the IV pain meds, and they were something to experience! Although they helped, they didn't last more then 30 minutes. After several hard crying episodes and debates, we found we were finally just barely at 8 cm., with her head still not tucked and she was still turned enough to make the back labor intense. I debated for a tiny bit, but I knew I was done. Over 30 hours of exhausting labor and back pain and I knew my conclusion, even though I fought against it with self disapointment. I'd already "caved" and started pitocin and IV pain killers, and I was already trying hard not to let it discourage me. (and as long as I didn't think about it, I wasn't.) But we asked for the epidural.

Well, I wouldn't say I so much "asked". It was more of a discussion of knowing I just couldn't make it, but I was so afraid of the epidural. I guess just an acknowle

dgment that my fear is going to happen.

The anesthesiologist was in within minutes and everyone was helping to relax and talk me through it, but I can't express how afraid I was. I feared moving, I wanted to continuously ask if they were done yet, and I kept expressing after contractions that I wasn't yelling at him, I was just yelling from contractions. (I'm very loud in labor... VERY. and it embarrasses me to admit!!)

Finally it was over and began to wear in. I was now stuck in bed for good. I had no control over my right leg and ver little over my left. Aaron had to move it for me several times. We had some humorous moments as one time while my knee was bent, Aaron said something to me and casually rubbed my knee, but as he took his hand away, my knee just went with it, and I watched, laughing as I had no control to stop my leg from falling over. He caught it and we laughed.... laughed, in LABOR!! Unimaginable!

So, I'm now thinking I'm that woman that will get to nap through transition and wake up being told it's time to push. I'm easily dozing off as the room gets quite. I can feel pressure during contractions but not much. Suddenly came a "hard" one that I actu

ally had to vocalize through, and thought, no, that wasn't an urge to push... I have an epidural. Within minutes there was another one, so I mentioned it to the nurse and Annette came to check. I was "complete" and actually was having the urge to push. It was just after 3pm. Aaron and I were suddenly energetic and excited as we caught glances and made those googly eyes, knowing we would hold our daughter in moments. We laughed because Aaron predicted at 10 am. it wouldn't be until three. I called him a jerk for wanting me to have 5 more hours of labor! (and that was when we just started pitocin)

So, within 30 minutes of getting an epidural, Eden had finally tilted

her head (although not tilting it for so long left her head still perfectly round) and helped my cervix become complete and ready to push! They asked if I wanted a mirror, and I did! After three contractions worth of pushing, she was on my belly, screaming her little head off! And her head was little!! It felt like such a celebration! When Madison was born we were so exhausted, there was just a feeling of relief when she was finally here, and everyone quickly did their job and was gone. But with Eden, the nurses stuck around to peak and google over her, the room was full of cheers and excitement, and not just from us. It was if all of them were just as excited she was finally here as her parents were. She stayed on my belly for a while while we cleaned her up and "celebrated". I suddenly realized at the same time as the midwife, we hand't "verified" the gender yet. so I took a peak below the blanket and proclaimed she definitely was a girl! The midwife said at one point, She's got dark hair, but I don't see any purple streaks like her mommy!" I laughed and asked if she could find any pink streaks, otherwise, she's going to have her daddy's hair!

Then some discoveries began to unravel. During all of labor, Eden's heart beat would drop right before a contraction, but it quickly came back up and there didn't seem to be any issues with it. They said the cord may be pinched during a contraction and Annette let me know I may need to push hard at the very end if it is, but she'd let me know if I needed. However, we discovered her cord was going around her back, up over her arm (like the strap of a purse) and down her chest, belly and between her legs. It didn't seem like a big deal though, and all was well. But as they took Eden to finish what they needed, Annette tried to finish her part of the work...

And I must warn you, this is where you may want to stop reading!! It's gross, and I'll try to be vague, but it's all up to you from here on out!

Annette was at the point where she needed to kneed my stomach and pull on the cord to help it out some. So they took Eden away to be cleaned up. The mirror was still up and I saw Annette at work, just in time see the cord actually break off from the placenta, which still had yet to be seen. Annette and I talked some as she informed me she was going to need to get "more aggressive" with getting the placenta. I watched as they took Eden off to my right and began to do their thing, and as I looked back, mirror still there, I saw Annette had her ENTIRE hand AND lower arm in places it should NEVER be! I don't even know how it happened!!! I remember at one point seeing Aaron and declaring THIS was exactly why God wouldn't let my labor progress. He knew this was going to be an issue, and He knew I'd need that epidural! So He made it go until I finally chose it. This is our God ordained epidural, because not only did Annette have to "fish out" the placenta, but it wasn't all there, so she had to continually search for more. When she did first have the majority of it, I watched in the mirror as she continually untwisted it until she could finally examine in. Not sure how it became so twisted up in the process, but it was a mess. She had to call for her Doctor friend to finish searching, and after about 10 more minutes and a final "scraping" of the uterus to be sure, they were certain all was finally out.

I asked what had happened with it, and Annette told me it had attached to the uterus wrong. As I thought about this over and over the past few days, I can't help but realize how close we were to not having this little girl. Placenta issues are usually "resolved" through miscarriage in the first trimester, or complications later on in pregnancy. And yet, God gave us this little girl, because an irregularly attached placenta is nothing he can't handle. And I'm fully aware that he didn't have to give us this baby girl, but chose to anyway, even with this little "issue" that could have caused bigger complications. He was gracious when we didn't deserve any special treatment, and we have this little girl because of it.

Eden is an incredibly small 6 lb. 10 oz., 20.5 inches long. Her new born diapers keep slipping off her little booty because she's so little. She has incredibly defined leg and butt muscles, and LOVES to stay folded up and squirmy... which I keep saying is just proving to everyone else how much I kept saying she moved in my belly!

So, in the end, I laugh at how many people reminded me a second baby is faster. I laugh at the thought of being the most cliche couple ever, going in too early, running out of gas, water breaking on the side of the highway, and being that woman who comes with this well laid out birth plan just to throw it away in the end. I'm grateful for no tearing, very minimal bleeding, despite the placenta issue, and a nurse and midwife that stuck with us above any expectations!

I'm blessed and undeserving of my husband, who was amazing, and fully hands on the entire labor, despite how much he hates seeing me attempt it without any drug medications. He was perfect the entire labor, even the parts at home. Helping me get rest as I could, food when needed, looking me in the eyes with "all the right things to say" written on his face during the most intense moments, and even though he didn't feel confident, he was perfect. He held me and felt my discouragement when I chose to change our "plan", and encouraged and uplifted me at the task at hand that I was going to complete, pain meds or not.

I look at my beautiful family of four, and how this past weekend unfolded. I'll never forget another April fool's day, and I will never celebrate it in the same way again! I see some awesome theme birthday's in the future.

Me?? A Pioneer in Natural Birth??

Let me begin with this very VERY important statement... or two....

I'm NOT against doctors or medicine. I believe there are a lot of pros to natural childbirth, but I'm not against ultra sounds, epidurals, c-sections, pain killers, etc. (except my many fears of the needle in my spine thing... but that's just a personal fear.) and I really don't care if you choose to nurse or not. We don't eat all organic, our meals are not typically properly "balanced", we are only "part time" cloth diaper users, and I believe if my child drops her passe on the ground, it's good enough for me to simply stick it in my mouth before I give it back to her (with a few exceptions of course).

That being said, why did/do I choose natural (as little intervention as completely possible) childbirth. Yes, fear of that stupid needle in the spine thing as I said before, and... well, I just don't know. I can't really explain it, but here is where I think it may have started:

My dad (who was born in 1928, and was 54 when I was born. So times were very very different when he was born) is somewhere in the middle of 13 children. I have no clue when I "knew" I could have kids one day. I don't remember the moment that information clicked in my brain, but somewhere around 4th-5th grade my dad told me how my grandma had all 13 kids on the same living room floor, even after they tried to pass some law or something that women had to get to the hospital. She'd take the baby after, but say something like she just couldn't get there on time, when she really just thought it was unnecessary. I remember setting my mind at that moment that I would have 15 kids (had to beat her by 2... not just 1) and I too wouldn't have any medical help for the birth.

That's it. That's when I made up my mind and why. And can I just say, when I make up my mind, IT IS MADE! (after all, that's the ONLY reasoning why I went through natural childbirth the first time... I know several women who have done it, and they had plenty more reasons that got them through then simply making the choice as a kid.)

Since then I've realized 15 kids is a little excessive... and I'm down to 6. Four I'd like to birth myself and then adopt at least 2. Since college I've decided four is a perfect number, although I really really want to birth four myself, and still want to adopt, so I'm not sure how that internal conflict will play out, but we will see how God chooses to build our family in time.

I've also realized I DON'T want to birth my children in my living room! I want the medical help ready and waiting for any "just in case" moment. The midwives we have used work hand in hand with a group of doctors they know and trust, and will simply bring them into the appointment or labor and delivery if needed. The doctors trust the midwives as well, and if you do end up needing a c-section, both practices I've been with will allow the midwives to assist the doctor, which is extremely comforting.

All that being said, back to my thought of the a pioneer... right... about that!

I gave birth to Madison almost 2 years ago after 14 hours of labor. No drugs or meds, no interference other then the midwife breaking my water after FOUR HOURS stuck at 9 centimeters. (45 minutes after she did, we had a baby in our arms!!) We gave birth with the only two and very popular midwives in our area, at a hospital that pretty much specialized in natural birth, so everyone was very VERY helpful and in no way pressured us for anything. It was wonderful! (well, as wonderful as giving birth to an 8 lb. baby can be without drugs.)

Since then we moved to a little unknown town in Texas (well, an hour outside of it actually), which happens to also have two midwives. But from the beginning of my visits, the midwife has said twice she was surprised at how much I knew, (the last one was when I asked her if I was ephased at all since she said I was at one centimeter dilated. She said most her patients don't know that word until she explains it.) And she was just as impressed when I presented our birth plan for her to sign a few weeks ago. Having used "high demand" midwives before (6 other women had babies the same night I had Madison, and ALL of them were patients for my midwife.) they were very use to patients set on natural birth, who took very educational classes on it (including my husband and I) and didn't offer any sort of intervention unless you insisted (for anything, even exams towards the end of the pregnancy).

Half way through this pregnancy she told me she was excited for my labor/delivery since she didn't see women much that wanted as natural as possible. (In fact, the hospital here only has 2 to 3 births a week, to begin with, if that, and even though there are two midwives, each is only on call one week a month, so you may not even get one for your birth.) Her encouragement made me excited, and confident, as I knew I had some extra support backing me. She even noted in my file to call her when I came in, even if she wasn't on call. I have felt completely encouraged and supported by her, as well as very easily relational. She takes time to sit and talk, which is different from the other midwives, and remembers a lot of details from my entire first experience with pregnancy, labor, delivery, healing and nursing. She knows the nursing issues we had before and has said a few times she's completely here for me if we have any problems, just call and we'll work on it together. (NOT what the other midwives did at all.... they were basically "done" after the birth, except for my healing process, although they had places they'd make sure to recommend for other help.)

The last appointment she spent some time talking with me and asked if I was willing to meet with a head nurse that is showing interest in helping with more natural births. Basically to talk about things I liked and didn't like at the other hospital and things I'd like to have available (although they have most of the same basics for labor). Even to the point of allowing me to labor in pajamas I brought if I wanted. (Although I have no problem in the gown either). I'm thinking it's more for the hospital then for me, since I really feel I'm not "wise" enough or the type of women who has "issues" with medicine and such. I'm just doing it because I want to. But I seem to be one of the seldom seen around this area who wants this. (I should say there are a few others I know choosing natural birth, but they have gone to birthing centers instead of these midwives and hospital, and other patients they have seen who have had natural births are more of the mindset "we will see how far we get" or just want some minor pain meds. Or they simply deliver to fast to get any meds. So I'm not alone out here in this, but apparently I'm rare in having such a plan, education and goals already set from the beginning.... and that's mostly credited to taking a Bradley class with my first pregnancy, which was extremely helpful in being mentally prepared, which I need to do something like this.)

She also stated at that last appointment that they are going to move towards publicizing a more "midwifery" practice for here and the surrounding area, and asked if she might possibly call on me to share my stories if I didn't mind. Of course I was as flattered as I was set back that she could see me as someone who could help pave the way in moving the practice closer to the goals she has in mind. It also makes me nerveous!

So... maybe I am a pioneer... maybe. It's flattering, and humbling. I'm encouraged and feel even more ready then with Madison. Our due date is 3 weeks away, and I'm much more excited about the labor and delivery then what most think is normal... yes, I said I'm very excited about the actual labor! (Actually, I've been really really excited about it lately, and not just because it means I'm about to have my baby.... I don't know many who have excitement about that as their due date approaches...)

I already know that the moment I see my midwife walk in, I'm going to already feel much more comforted and confident. She's been THAT good already.

Bring it on!

My "Big Fish"

I love the movie Big Fish. (Such a GREAT movie!) It seems most people either love it or hate it, but I cannot be grateful enough for the person who wrote that movie. It makes me roll with laughter and cry my eyes out. It touches my heart.

So, I decided to share it. But more to share MY big fish.

It's the dad. Well, more the main character who is a dad by the end. The whole story is from him, but it's in the perspective his kids grew up hearing. Of course the kids grew up hearing his life stories that way because he chose to tell them the way he needed to remember them.

Yes, I said needed. Not how he did remember. Children don't understand this concept until they aren't children anymore. I didn't. No child does.

So, my own "big fish". If you know me at all, it's obvious. I miss him incredibly, even though I've gotten accustomed to his absence. He wasn't always the best dad in the world. In fact, I'm pretty sure he never would have received "father of the year". But he was amazing, and forever cherished in my heart, no matter what the critics on the outside say.

Of course, I only know the stories from his perspective, unlike the movie where the funeral revealed what was truth and what was exaggeration. The best part in that movie, it was all "truth" behind his stories. All of it. the exaggerations were simply novelty, nothing that was intended to be a lie. Simply "adjectives" to enhance the good parts. Knowing my dad, those "adjectives" weren't there for me to enjoy the story more. They were all for him. For his acceptance of how his life played out. For the things he had no control over, and for decisions he made. The psychologist and Christian say this isn't the way to "deal", but what if it really is to some degree. What if you have "dealt" and as you share your life, you understand there is no need to share all the realities. What if the "adjectives" are how you create a desire for adventure and life in your own children, while saving them from being afraid of the world.

He taught me to believe that thing that hangs in the back of your mouth is called a "gaggle hanger" because it hangs there, and if you touch it, you gag.... duh!! I'll never forget the day I felt so smart when my teacher asked if anyone knew the correct name for it. I went home crying because she didn't believe me. My dad was there to comfort me with the fact that teachers don't always know everything...

If you lost a tooth and never stuck your tongue in the hole, the new one would come in GOLD! I can't tell you how many times he told me "Your tongue must have slipped in there when you were sleeping". And if the old tooth was good and healthy, the tooth fairy gave them to clams to turn into round pearls.

Did you know if you play with your belly button too much, it will make your butt fall off!! If only it were that easy!

The fun helicopter things that fall from trees in the spring are really fairy wings. The spring/summer fairies hibernate in the trees during the winter and shed them when they wake up. They can make almost any boo-boo feel better! Really!!

I had a really rough semester in College, which included a heart break and a really bad case of mono, along with some other junk. My dad sent me a card with a "fairy wing" taped inside. It worked. What I wouldn't give to still have that card. Not to mention our shared thing for strawberry milk shakes to help us feel better. Mmmm..... Aaron still offers me strawberry milkshakes when I'm upset, and it still makes me feel better.

Oh, and a personal favorite. Dad and I were going to own a pie and ice cream shop one day. With a long counter that held a baby grand piano on one end for live music on certain nights. I had "invented" sweet potato pie, which was simply a version of sweet potato casserole we make for holidays (sooo incredibly good! Mashed with pineapple and some brown sugar, topped with mini marshmallows and some mere-chino cherries, thrown into the oven until golden on top.) I simply decided the pie version should go on a graham cracker crust. Once in college (college mind you!! 20 years old!!) I went to a place in South Carolina with sweet potato pie on the menu.... what!! I called my dad, flabbergasted, because he must have known this existed already. (He had led me to believe for years it was my invention.) And his response... "I'm so sorry hun! We just didn't get a patent on it in time!" All I could do was grin. I knew it was a form of a "big fish", but it was a fish I wanted to keep.

Of course, the really "big fish" come from his life story. Most of which I can't or won't share on here. I bought him a book once, with a question every day for one year. Intended for a parent to eventually pass on to their child, leaving a book in their own words about their life and experiences. After a few weeks he teared up and apologized that he just couldn't keep doing the book. The questions seemed to dig a little too deep. I wish I had it completed, and at the same time, I praise God I don't know all he was too hurt to write about.

My dad was mostly on his own by his early teens. He rode the trains as a classic, old fashioned tramp! My uncle told me after dad died, when they received word my dad was coming to town, they went to the train station late in the evening and started whispering his name, checking under the cars until he popped out. Full of stories from his latest travels. I find that exciting! (of course, this was back in the 30's. I wouldn't find this as exciting today.

His mom could throw a rubber mallet over a mile to where the out house was, and smack dad right in the head for teasing his brother with wax paper when the bathroom was fresh out of the sears catalog. And he didn't just walk 5 miles up hill in snow to school (both ways of course) but he had to carry a brother on his back since they only had enough shoes for each child to have one. If you wanted a pair, you had to make a deal!

He went into the Navy at 17 to fight in WWII, (picture on the left was in 1947, at 18 or 19 yrs. old) where they sharpened old anchors and tied on the rotten meat to catch great white sharks for food, after they'd been out to see longer then expected. He smuggled a little girl from Japan who watched her parents die in front of her. Within a few months of being back in the states he saw that she was put in a children's home so she could be adopted. Realizing he wasn't ready to parent a preschooler just yet.

He was an ice deliverer for the old style iceboxes for a bit and sold vacuums door to door. He explored the west, found gold with 2 of his brothers, owned a restaurant, land in California and a few semi trucks. (He's off to do more exploring out west with Uncle Gene and Uncle Walter in this picture. He's on the left.)

Did I mention he ROBBED A BANK! (or maybe some sort of store??) Yes, he served his time, and yes, he did it with his brother... those brothers... He also got "kicked out of Ohio", according to him. But that's how he went to California where he met my mom.

I was raised watching westerns, listen to barbershop music (of which he sang in for years) and staring at his old slides of the western desserts from his travels. I still have a whole box of those slides.

A few years after he died, my uncle met with me over a LONG breakfast and talked all about my dad. His stories were in fact, "fish". They were real to a point. I'd talk about some things with my mom, like my dad's story of how I was suppose to be a boy, and when I wasn't, he wanted to name me Janetta Rodriguez (could you imagine! I'm so WHITE!) to get back at me. Mom clarified that wasn't how it went down, along with a few other stories I'd always believed. Aaron suggested I stop asking my mom about the different stories because I kept getting disappointed at how the real version went.

He didn't share much of the war or the really hard stuff, which he had plenty of. Some I discovered as I grew and came to piece things together. Wisdom brings pain in times where your realizing what young life was really like for someone you love so deep. Why they have so many "big fish" stories. Stories that are truth cluttered with "adjectives". "Fish" worth keeping.

I was broken for months after his death. I was angered after a year passed, that I wasn't able to stop time. Longed for him to be at my college graduation. Grieved my future husband would never know him. Mourned a father/daughter dance at my wedding. Saddened he will never hold my little girls.

I know he's not looking down from heaven. I believe that's nothing more then a "good intentions" statement leading to false comfort. But I know he was proud of me before he passed, and I know our relationship was the healthiest it had ever been. I guess that's what makes it so hard.

My dad may have raised me on "big fish" but he raised me to love the world, adventure and challenge. I never would have left our corner or Ohio if he hadn't. I wouldn't have cared to step out on my own two feet if he didn't start me off flying around to family for 6 weeks at the age of 12. We loved to share our stories of adventure. If I showed the tiniest interest in something, we were at the library, looking it up. (Once it led me to breading gerbils! Over 80 of them went through our home! Of course, it took a little convincing for mom at first... but dad and I were a good team at this... most of the time.)

I don't want to know how different I would be if I didn't have the same dad.

My children will know how dear their Grandpa is to me, and I will pass on his "Big Fish".

I'll find a lot joy in telling them the tooth fairy uses their good teeth for pearls, and that fairy wings can make almost anything feel better. Of course I'll tell them how to get gold teeth, and best of all, to be careful just how much you play with your belly button!
I'll share his travels, the way I know them to be. The way he wanted them passed on. The crazy adventures and amazing and unique things he did.

And of course, I'll have to add some of my own "big fish".

Jack Raymond Scott
Sept. 19, 1928-Jan. 3, 2005

Yet another life Transition...

Here we go.... *sigh.

I set out in January 2002, on my own. Starting my own foundations for the life God was going to lay before me to follow. I set out in my own version of an "Abraham" story, moving 5 states for college. A bold move when considering what I had, knew and expected of what God had called me to and where I came from. I now reflect on 10 years filled with various moves on and off campus, working summers at camp, losing my beloved daddy, living and teaching in Thailand, moving to Florida, Moving to back to South Carolina, first year teaching, engagement, marriage, foot surgery, moving to Kentucky, having a baby and finally moving to Texas...

"Finally"?? So definitive. An implication of an absolute.

God brought us here so clearly. So smoothly. So obviously...

Eight months of living in Texas. Aaron's perfect mix of adventure, teaching and discipleship all rolled into what the world labels a "job". A beautiful location, such flexible hours to balance family and students. A house. An open home to disciple others with his family's involvement and encouragement.

So here it is. In basic terms, the camp doesn't have the funding it needs to continue a program that ends in debt each year. Debt they are willing to repay from other programs for the sake of what Walkabout means and does for the students. And somehow, here and now, they have found there just isn't enough to cover the programs negative balances anymore. The camp has a very respectable no debt policy, and this means things have to change. Long story short, within all the adjustments and refiguring, we are not able to stay. Of course they are taking care of us, and of course we are finishing this Walkabout year well...

But we are suddenly searching... wondering.

Eight months of believing we are "settled" for a while to simply find ourselves uncertain what God has for us. If this isn't it, what could he still holding off on. How many more steps until we are "there", until we don't feel like "wandering Abrahams" anymore. And yet, consider that even a man such as Moses never stepped foot in the promised land. His seed (literally and figuratively) did. They reaped the benefits of Abraham's obedience in stepping away from everything in pure faith. His descendants were the ones to taste the flowing milk and honey.

I find myself unattached enough that moving away won't be difficult. 8 months was just long enough to get over the homesickness of what we had in Kentucky, so I could begin building the same love and sentiments towards our new home and life here. But I won't be able to do that now.

I find myself teary at the thought of starting again. Not the job searching, packing, moving, unpacking, technicalities of changing information and paperwork. All of which comes almost naturally to me at this point.

It's the relational... That feeling when you've been dating someone for so long and when it's over and you move on, the belly ache starts at the thought of having to get to know someone all over again and still not knowing if that one will end in pain or joy. You wonder if it's going to be worth it. You may even pass up an interested fellow or two from the sheer lack of motivation to gamble it all again.

It really is the relational...

To seek out women and moms again. To strive to put myself out there. Again... I had just come to such a place when God asked us to walk away from Kentucky. To a place where I was surrounded by women I could feel open, vulnerable and honest with at that deeper level. Women I will never forget although they were only in my life for a year. Women I look up to in many many ways. As mothers, wives, spiritual women of faith and leaders in each of their unique ways. Women I won't ever forget.

It took me 2 years to find that place in Kentucky. And God has only given us 1 year in Texas. I'm just getting the ability to step up beyond congenial. Only two women here know a small percentage of me and my story. My life that God has given me to share. I don't know how much of them I really know. How many levels deep they have decided to share.

And I have to start over. Again. I have six months to prep for this. Six months to continue to invest where I'm at with no real gain. Six months to fight walls that may want to go up for the sake of "not needing" to invest.

Six months for God to show us the next step. And if I know Him like I believe I'm getting to know Him, He's going to take six and a half months to let us know.

A Delight that's been Reborn

God has been so great to us! Aaron has a job he absolutely loves which also allows me to stay home with Madison, another blessing in and of herself, students and friends that love and care for our family, and a gentleness as he brings us through 6 months of this major life transition.

Most recently, as most know by now, we found out our second child is another little girl! We were both extremely surprised by this, since we both expected a boy, although, for no real reasons other then "intuition". It is a little weird knowing for this pregnancy, a boy has been "eliminated". Although we knew one of the two genders would have to be. We are very excited to have two sweet little girls running around, especially Aaron! He loves imagining what it will be like having TWO "daddy's girls".

We are naming her Eden Rene', which was the very hard choice we chose between when naming Madison. I'm pretty excited I get to use both names now! Eden is simply a beautiful name that means "delight", while Rene' is my middle name and means "Reborn". So, I guess it becomes something like "A delight reborn" or "A delight that's been reborn".

Aaron's students wanted to be the ones to reveal the gender to us, so anxiously we had the nurse write it down and seal it in and envelope, which we handed over to Aaron's coworker, Meredeth. Later that night they had a great production for us, where they re-enacted the Circle of Life song from the Lion King. It was the most hilarious gender reveal I have ever heard of happening! They acted out all the animals, and of course there was "Rafiki" carrying the basket with a baby. In the end they held up the baby, wrapped in a blanket, and pulled it off to reveal a baby dressed in girl clothes, however, the baby was dropped with the blanket in the process, causing us to die laughing as we discovered our great surprise! It was such a wonderful way to have the students want to be involved in this step in our lives. It really meant a lot to us that they cared that much to create this amazing routine. They ended up with an audience of about 15 other staff who had heard they had something big planned and wanted to come watch. It truly was a celebration! I can't wait to share the story with Eden one day!

Madison is growing and changing almost constantly. It is a crazy concept to me that at 17 months old, she is so independent, fearless, outgoing, even bold. She is truly her mother's child, which I pray she uses those characteristics in a much more God honoring way then I did growing up. I was also my father's daughter when it came to characteristics like this, and I can only imagine now how he felt, raising a small clone of himself. Now I know why we butted heads so much in my teen years, as well as held fast as best friends. I cringe knowing that in her mind, I will be an enemy for a while. It seems to happen with most girls and their moms, but being so similar in personality, I feel as though the teen years will be a mix of the extremes from best friends to enemies, without much middle ground between. I did it to my father, and I can already see the similarities. However, I have no doubt in the long run this will be God's way of growing each of us into his character, and of course, one day, just like my dad and me, she will have a child of her own, just like her!! (I don't say this as the parent's curse, but as the blessing it was to me to have my father, and my daughter.)

As far as skills, Madison's vocabulary isn't english, but I've discovered several "words" she always uses for the same thing. And even though we continue to use the correct words, she replies with her own little language. I'm grateful for finally picking up on it! Communication is getting so much easier! I've also discovered a pretty good ability of hers for following simple directions. I hadn't really tried to use them with her until recently, and was pleasantly surprised when she followed them. I'm not sure if she may have been able to do this sooner, but it's another great discovery. With it, however, has come the discovery that she knows the word "no" in context, either verbally or shaking her head. She will definitely let you know if she doesn't want to do what you have asked, which isn't always ok, depending on the request of course. I still feel extremely unequipped and unsure of discipline for tantrums and bad actions. I think I'm learning a little as I go, but I'm constantly running into walls and feeling unproductive, leaving me to give up, which I try not to, but the feeling of helplessness or failure in teaching my child can be a constant feeling on some days, leaving a frustrated mommy and daughter when daddy gets home. Not such a good thing.

Aaron's students are going through their "phases", which is fun and exhausting to watch! Everything was pleasant and perfect for about a month, and then came the realization that they are stuck with all these personalities for 8 more months! A lot of the surface getting along began to dwindle as personalities clashed when they didn't feel like putting up with little quirks of others. For the most part they have worked through this and are now learning to live honestly as well as sacrificially together. Of course, this isn't smooth or perfect and probably won't ever be for some of them, but they are doing well. The retreat season has slowed down for them and classes have picked up, which both they and Aaron love. We've had some great experiences thus far, but this is already getting long, so I encourage you to check out the walkabout blog, which has a link at the top of this page. You can find videos and blogs from the students and Aaron, and keep involved in how their journey is going.

Book Review: Thank you, God, for Blessing Me

Max Lucado has a great knack for speaking to adults and children alike. His newer book, Thank you, God, for Blessing Me, is no exception. It's a sweet little book that helps remind children to thank God for all the daily things in life. From friends, family, food, everything around him, and even his "little buggy feat". One of my favorite pages in this rhyming board book asks God to help him be kind, obey and remember to say thank you. The pictures and colors are wonderful for young children, and I enjoy them myself as well! It's the perfect size for my child to hold and flip through the wonderfully illustrated pages as we read together and are both reminded to thank God for each blessing around us, big and small. I would recommend this book for children just starting to listen to parents read to them through early elementary.

This book was provided to me by booksneeze.com, and I was not required to give a positive review.