Some thoughts on a lonely night.
Each day separated from my love makes my heart a little bit heavier. Each night that I can’t hug him. Each evening he can’t read to our little girl.
But each morning, he’s one day closer to being home again.
Today was a rough day. Squishy girl and I went down to the ATL to visit some friends, and she did great on the trip there. But the way back? Three hours of screaming. I don’t regret going to visit them, I needed to get out of this town. But this whole “I hate the car” thing just sucks.
Tomorrow, it will be less than two weeks till I see him again. And then we prepare for the deployment – I will cherish every look, every moment, every touch. Memorize his smell and the way it feels to put my forehead in the nape of his neck, my fingertips across his chest. The warmth of his skin and in his gaze. I will need each memory to get through the next year. I will burn them into my mind and into my heart.
Update on simplification…
It’s slow going. My parents are here to help me out. We’ve gotten things cleaned and put away, now is the time to go through it all. I do have somewhat of a deadline. There is a yard sale to raise money for my husband’s unit’s FRG (family readiness group). I hope to donate a few things. It’s time to say goodbye to some things I’ve been holding onto. This may hurt a little bit.
But that’s the point, right?
Something brewing
I. am. messy.
Everything about me – my thoughts, my home, my calendar, my finances, my spirit. It’s all a mess. It all needs cleaning. It all needs simplifying.
Something needs to change. For reals.
I’m readingOrganized Simplicity by Tsh Oxenreider. It starts with creating a purpose statement for our family. So that’s my goal for today. I was going to clean the house, but I need to stop just managing my mess and work towards making my entire life more simple and uplifting. Instead of all the aspects of my life competing with one another, they need to all be working towards the same goal. So yes, I’ll do the dishes and fold the laundry today. But I need a unifying goal. A purpose for each task, hour, and item in my home. I want the space to love my child without the stress of tripping over things that I don’t need and don’t have time to take care of. I want to create a space for my husband and myself to truly be able to relax and enjoy eachother and our dear baby girl.
All that I have, all the I am, needs to honor God and build his Kingdom. And that is where I will start.
Let’s do this. (Prayers, please? This is big. And I often lose steam on this kind of thing.)
Preparation
Lent. Preparing for Easter. I’ll be honest, that is not what has been on my mind this season. I’ve been preparing for something else altogether. Deployment. It’s coming up in a just few short months. Instead if preparing for my Savior’s suffering, I’m preparing for my own. Instead of preparing for the ultimate Joy of Easter morning, I’m preparing for a season of loneliness.
There is something wrong with this picture. The only way I’m going to get through the months of anticipation and the following months of difficulty is if I find myself in my Savior. I need Lent and Easter if I’m going to prepare myself for the deployment.
I’m seeing more and more how the Lord needs to change my heart. I’m hard and I easily stray. The human heart – my heart – is an idol factory. Praise the Lord that he knows this about me. But, please, oh please, Lord, I ask you to change my heart and my way of thinking. I am yours.
Yearning
There are a lot of thoughts rolling, tumbling, penetrating my mind. Disease. Evil. Justice. Lack of justice. Pain. Fear. Abuse. Anger. Death. My soul screams, “It’s just not right!” My bones ache and groan with the rest of creation. Yearning for something better.
Everywhere I look, I see the results of sin. And as I read, as I think on it all, my baby daughter stirs, so I hold her hand and hush her back to sleep. Oh to feel safe and secure.
And then I realize that I can be safe and secure. I have the freedom to curl up in my Father’s arms and have the security that nothing on Earth can compare to. He has adopted me, I am His child.
I think about the Hope that we have. The Risen Jesus Christ. We are made one with Him, His life and death, but more importantly, his resurrection! He has risen and is living in heaven and that is where we are headed! We have something to be looking forward to. We have a REAL hope for a better life! A life without tears, mourning, pain, darkness, or sword. I dream about the day, and I am trying to live in the light of this reality.
What does that mean? From my understanding, it means living like this is not our home, which means that I don’t need to hold onto the things I have, or to my “happiness”, or even to my own life. I can be more generous with what I have. It also means that I should be more consistent about telling others about the hope that I have – because it is really, really important. And I should be much less concerned about what others think of me. This world, our lives here, are temporary.
And I tell you, living like this is so freeing. (If only I could get my sin-racked self to remember this when I am faced with difficulty.)
For the hard days: links
http://fimby.tougas.net/open-hearted-letter-to-moms-of-young-children
http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/05/for-the-mother-who-fears-failure/
http://www.ncregister.com/blog/simcha-fisher/to-the-mother-with-only-one-child
http://www.aholyexperience.com/2012/02/for-the-hard-days-and-real-weather-forecasts/
Please leave a comment if you know of anymore!
Finding the balance and the truth
I was a wife for 2.5 years before I became a Mama. I wasn’t too bad at being a wife, I love being my man’s number one support and making a home that is comfortable and relaxing for him. I love cooking and baking and cleaning. But now I’m a Mama and I don’t know how to be both. Most of my days are filled with nursing the child and rocking her to sleep and holding her while she sleeps so she gets enough sleep [note: I am not asking for parenting advice, I know what my baby needs, but thank you for thinking of trying to help…]. My baby loves her Mama and is not ready to be apart from me for very long. This does not leave room for sweeping and mopping the floors, keeping up with laundry, making fun and new meals, or washing the dishes even every day. Several times a week I find myself asking The Officer, “Am I doing a good job? I feel like a failure for not being able to keep the house like I used to, or cook meals like I used to, or be your wife at all.” And he reassures me, of course, being the amazing husband that he is.
I don’t like not being able to do it all by myself, needing to ask The Officer for help with the housework when he is at home, instead of letting him relax before going to a stressful job. I wish I could do all that I did before as well as take the best care of my baby in the ways that she needs. But I need to find a new balance. I need to see that she is my priority because she is a person. And I want to enjoy her babyhood instead of spending it fretting over the state of my house. I’m finding solace in the knowledge that I am not alone, that most people feel like they don’t measure up, and even though I really don’t, that it doesn’t matter to my God. His power is made perfect in my weakness – which means that he uses my weakness to bring himself glory. And bringing him glory is what I am made for!
Part of me is quite afraid to post this because I don’t want to be judged. I don’t want people to know that I am hardly staying on top of being a stay-at-home-mom. I don’t want others to know how messy my house is and that I’m not sure the last time I cleaned the bathroom was. I don’t want people who had “easy” babies to think that something must be wrong with me because they were able to do it, so why can’t I? But I am hoping that someone out there reads this and says, “Yes! I struggle, too! It’s such a relief to know that I’m not the only one that isn’t measuring up to the world’s standards of what a house should look like and what a wife and mother should be!” My baby needs me. She needs to be attached to me. She needs a gentle, caring, constant love that not all babies need. Parenting is about sacrifice (as is marriage). That means that I have to give up what I want to do for the welfare of my child. And if someone tries to tell me that I am wrong for doing so, that I should be doing more than I am capable of, that I shouldn’t need help, then (apart from fighting off these lies day and night), I will tell them that they have no idea what they are talking about. This person does not know my baby and my abilities. And if you judge me for it, then it tells me something about you – not about me. I need to please God, not man. I answer to him alone, and so do you.
I’m getting defensive. Getting back on track…
So even though I am scared to publish this post, I am going to. In hopes that my struggle gives someone else a bit of hope, a bit of camaraderie, and maybe just the push they need to get through today without the false guilt that I struggle with every day. Do what is best for you and your family, and don’t apologize for it. Life isn’t about having the perfect house and pretty things. Life isn’t about the way you look on the outside. For me and my house will serve the Lord. And to HIM, the people matter. If it is a matter of a pretty house versus a happy and well-loved child, I will choose the second every time. I know that this honors God because he cares for the children and people more than anything else. He gave up everything so that his children can come to Him. So I can give up my ideals to love my daughter the way she needs to be loved, I can meet her where she is to demonstrate to her the Love that our Heavenly Father has for us. I do this for her because He has done it for me.
The Fight continued
Isaiah 46:3-4 says, “Listen to me, O house of Jacob, all the remnant of the house of Israel, who have been born by me from before your birth, carried from the womb; even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save.”
I have made and I will bear.
I will carry and will save.
This is the promise he made to us, his remnant. I need to sit on this for a while. Mull it over.
I’ve made a connection that I know I knew, but not really knew deeply. Anxiety is sin. Anxiety is sin! It is mistrust in the One who deserves my trust! Not trusting is sin.
I am undermining God’s perfect plan and goodness when I trust in myself or earthly things. When I am anxious, first off, I am focusing on earthly things. My eyes are not on the cross. Second, I am not trusting in the very Word of God and resting in his Truth, Power, Love, and Goodness.
So here I fight the fear and anxiety with the blade of Truth:
“Perfect love casts out fear.” 1 John 4:18
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7
“My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9
“And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”Joshua 1:9
“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
“Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” John 6:35
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” Proverbs 3:5-6
“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” 2 Corinthians 4:17
May the Truth set you free from the powers of sin and hell.
The Good Fight
Fighting for faith. What I am called to.
I used to think that this Fight referred to going out in the world and battling opposing ideas/lifestyles/religions/demons/lies/sin. And that is true. But that’s not all. I’m learning that the good Fight for faith is taking place within myself, as well. I need to fight for hope, for joy, for purpose, for peace, for faith within myself. I need to fight to see through the fog of war and see my Jesus standing as Victor.
My weapons and defenses in the Fight: the Word, the Body, the Spirit.
I need to read the Word and sit under it preached. I need to meditate and study and (ahem. I’m not good at this next part.) memorize it.
I need the Body, my brothers and sisters. I need to know that I am not alone. I need to reach out to them in their distress, I need to be reached out to in mine. I need to celebrate with them, hug them, cry with them, pray with them.
I need the sacraments. I need to pray. I need to be thankful. I need perspective.
I need to fight everyday for Faith, so that I can worship our Creator God with all of me. And it is all I can do to keep fighting today. If I think about fighting tomorrow and the next day and the next day, then my strength will leave me. I will be left overwhelmed and lost, blinded by the smoke. God works differently, He gives strength as it is needed. I don’t need the strength for tomorrow because it isn’t tomorrow yet. Like the Israelites collecting manna, I am supplied what I need for today.
Praise Jehovah!
Kaelyn’s Birth Story
Ike, my amazing husband, had been sick for a few days with tonsillitis and he had not slept well on Thursday night (thankfully, he was not contagious anymore!), so he slept all morning, and I dozed and played around on the internet until noon. I had been having what I thought were Braxton Hicks contractions that were not painful at all. By around 11:30, I was feeling pretty antsy. We had been cooped up in the house all week and I wanted to get out. So we decided to get some Christmas shopping done. We went to a local (huge!) antique shop and walked around for a couple of hours, shopping for our families. I kept having the Braxton Hicks, so when we went home, we decided that we would go take a walk to see if we could keep them going. We stopped at home before heading to the trail, and while I was checking my email, I felt a gush of liquid! When it kept going, I walked to the bathroom and just as I was saying, “I think my water just broke,” it started running down my leg and I knew then that it definitely was my water! I sat on the toilet for a half an hour or so because the water kept on flowing.
Ike called our midwife, Debi, and told her what happened. She was already closer to us than to her own house, so she headed our way to check on me. Ike called Miriam, our sister-in-law, to let her know because she was coming to the birth and she needed to get her kids to the babysitter. He then called our parents and I texted a few close friends. At this point, we were asking for prayers that contractions would start and we could get this party started! (Little did I know that they would start fast and strong, and we wouldn’t have time to tell anyone that labor really had started. My parents didn’t even leave their house, 12 hours away, until after the baby was born, because they didn’t know that labor had really started!).
I had a few light contractions on the toilet and desperately wanted them to keep going, so when the flow of water seemed to lighten up, I put in a panty liner and started bustling around the house. The contractions really started to pick up when I was doing the dishes, I had to stop washing during contractions and focus on relaxing.
Around 4:00, Debi arrived. She evaluated the baby and me and told us that she wanted us to go for a walk to keep the contractions going. So we went across the street and walk around a track that goes around the park so we could come home quickly if we wanted. I made it once around the track because I was shivering from the cold and couldn’t relax during contractions.
We came back in the house and got the bedroom set up for labor (Debi had already set up all of her supplies in there) – we lit candles and Ike started playing a Fernando Ortega playlist on grooveshark. At this point, about 5:00 I think, was when I started to vocalize through my contractions. Deep, low moaning, in my throat and chest. I labored sitting on the birth ball and leaning on Ike, and also on my knees, leaning on the birth ball with Ike rubbing the small of my back. Around 6:00, my contractions were getting closer and closer and Ike couldn’t be running around doing things (getting me water and food, getting himself dinner, or doing other various things), so I decided that I wanted Miriam to start making her way over. So Ike called her. Shortly after, I got in the shower. The hot water felt amazing. Unfortunately, our hot water heater is teeny tiny, so I was only able to stay in the shower for 10 minutes – maybe three contractions.
Soon after getting out of the shower, around 6:15, Miriam arrived. She made a couple of burritos for Ike to eat. He scarfed them down in between contractions, which were now 3-4 minutes apart. I labored in the kitchen with Miriam and Ike for a while, sitting on the birth ball and leaning on Ike. Once, Miriam was rubbing my back and Ike was supporting me in the front, and I bit his arm! I tried not to but I couldn’t help it! So then Miriam got me a wet washcloth to bite on and we moved back to the bedroom. I labored in many different positions, tried the shower again (a disaster with that awful, terrible, no good, very bad water heater), and ended up back in the bedroom again.
I started to get really tired and discouraged, saying that I didn’t want to do it anymore and I didn’t think I could and I just wanted a break. I really wanted to rest more in between contractions, so I finally moved to the bed. As the contractions got more intense, I had to find ways to keep myself motivated and in the right frame of mind. I kept thinking about what I read on the “Birth Without Fear” blog, “your contractions are not too strong for you, they are you.” I also was picturing my baby pressing down and dilating me further, so she could come out. These visualizations and reminders are what got me through many contractions and my doubtful thoughts and fears when I didn’t want to go on. Around 7:00, my vocalizations started to change, it was harder to keep them low. So Debi came in and asked if I wanted her to check me. I said yes – I had to know what progress I had made. I was 6-7 centimeters! I wished that I had been farther along because I wanted to be ready to push so I could be done. But the others in the room said that was pretty good for only four hours of labor (and on the other side, it sure is!).
At this point, I asked someone to cover up the clock; I knew that I would keep looking at it and get discouraged. It was getting really rough. Carley, Debi’s assistant, showed up around 8:00. I had never met her before, but she had an amazingly peaceful presence. Up until this point, I wanted to just labor with Ike, but around 9, I really wanted more support, so we called in Debi and Carley (Miriam was nursing Nora in the car). When Miriam came back in, I asked how Nora was doing (I was concerned because she hadn’t nursed the last time she tried) and everyone laughed. I didn’t understand what was so funny, but apparently a laboring woman doesn’t normally think about her niece’s well-being.
Around 10:00, I started to feel like I might want to push, and around 10:15, Debi checked me and said there was just a lip of cervix, but it was very stretchy, so pushing would likely get it out of the way. I tried a few pushes on my own, but it didn’t feel like I was doing anything. So I asked Debi for some help and she gave me a few pointers. After a few more contractions and pushes, I definitely felt like each push was more effective, I started to feel the baby move down (coolest feeling ever – and such a relief after hours of intense contractions!).
When Debi checked to see if the lip of the cervix was still there, she said that the baby’s head was in a kind of wonky position. It wasn’t in the ideal place for her to come out. I was sitting up, leaning on pillows pushing, but Debi told me that I needed to move down onto my back (even though that was not a comfortable position and it didn’t take advantage of gravity) and push a few times to help the baby maneuver into the right position. I trusted that Debi knew what she was talking about. I did not feel like she made me do this or that I was manipulated at all – I was secure in knowing that Debi knew what she was doing and doing what was best for me and my baby. I stayed in this position for a while until Debi checked the baby’s position, said she was good, and told me that I could get in any position that I wanted. So I got on my knees and leaned on a stack of pillows to push. This position felt great and I felt like we were making progress. Finally, I moved onto my left side because I couldn’t hold myself up on my knees anymore. Miriam was holding my right foot up (it shook a lot when I was pushing – turns out I gave her quite a bruise from pushing up against her shoulder).
At this point, I could feel her moving a little bit further down with each push. This was so encouraging and motivating. Pushing hurt, but it felt so good to do something and move her down and out. For a long time, the others could see her head when I pushed, and it went back up in between contractions. This moving back actually felt good, a bit of relief from the pressure on my perineum. Finally, when she stopped going back in, I was able to feel her head with my hand. It was incredible! And so motivating! I pushed for a while longer, and then I felt the ring of fire. It really did feel like my entire bottom was on fire! With encouragement from everyone around me, I pushed with everything I had. They told me that her head was out! I pushed again with all of my strength – here came her shoulders! And then I saw her come out and into my arms! She was purple and slippery and wiggly – just perfect. As I held her, her arms kept reaching up and touching my face. I couldn’t really believe what was happening! My baby? In my arms?
The contractions didn’t stop, though, and I remembered that I had to push out the placenta. It was so hard to push out! It hurt so badly! I found out later that half of the placenta had come out and my cervix started to clamp down on it. Debi had to manually re-dilate me and dig out the rest of the placenta. No wonder it hurt. Just think about that for a moment. Manually re-dilate and dig. Later, Debi apologized later for having to do this, but I would rather have gone through that than surgery later to get it out!
After the placenta was out, Ike cut the cord. I was able to finally rest. And my baby was in my arms! Kaelyn Anaiah had made it safe and sound.
Later, Debi told me that if I had been in the hospital, they would have given me a c-section. I didn’t know this, but while I was pushing, Kaelyn’s heart rate kept dropping. It did this because when she came out, her cord was wrapped around her neck, her arm, her chest, and her leg! No wonder it got compressed when I pushed (and no wonder they encouraged me to push so hard at the end!); however, her heart rate recovered well in between contractions for most of the time I was pushing. The midwives had gathered resuscitation equipment, but thankfully they didn’t even need to use it. Since we are in Chattanooga, a city with a c-section rate that is higher than our national average, both midwives were pretty sure that if I had been in a hospital, they would have jumped the gun and cut me open. Thankfully, Debi knew just what to do and when it is and when it isn’t okay for baby’s heart rate to drop. Thankfully, they skillfully kept the fetal monitor facing away from Ike and I, so that I could focus on getting her out and not worrying. They did an amazing job and everyone was healthy and safe because of their lack of action. Praise God for leading us to homebirth and Debi – who had the strong, soft, supporting hands that I needed. Praise him for Carley, an amazingly calming presence. Praise him for Miriam, who also was instrumental in this birth – she took photos and a beating for me. I needed her sisterly support. Praise him for Ike; I couldn’t have gotten through any contractions and the pushing without his physical support, comforting touch, and words of encouragement, he was like water to me. Finally, praise God for our baby, Kaelyn Anaiah! After losing three babies, God has given us one that I got to give birth to, that we get to hug and hold and take care of, that he brought safely into this world (when things could have gone so wrong, he brought her to my arms unharmed) and who get to watch grow up and hopefully, gently point her towards the Lord. Now onto the adventure of parenting!
Oh! She was born on 11/11/11 at 00:11, 6 lbs 6oz, and 20 inches of pure beauty!
to seek joy 