Birthin' Babies

“I don’t know nothing about birthin’ no babies, Miz Scarlett...!" quote from Gone with the Wind.

Can you envision the above scene where the quote is spoken out in horror and fear? I so can! Milly is lying on the bed, writhing in agony. There is no doctor. No midwife. No one with half a clue. Just two ignorant women.

And honestly, the whole thing cracks me up. It's supposed to. That's why we all remember it. Because it's dramatic and comical. Inexperienced women aiding an inexperienced, expectant mother. Without the help of a trained man. The nerve. ;)

Yet.

Somehow this becomes the view that I take on when I talk...or even think... in a way that demands a final decision about homebirth. I feel inept. ridiculous. backwoods and backwards. Somewhat akin to living in a tent. eating raw meat. and choosing to take out my own appendix...with a butter knife.

I know, I know. Graphic. But I'm just going by the reactions I've sometimes gotten when discussing this topic. Like I've lost my mind. ;)

.....Yes. I've YET to make a final call about homebirthing. I remain straddling the line. Unable to fully embrace one way or the other. I hate this place. The indecision. The frustration. The inability to make a stinkin' decision.

But a trusted midwife (she's associated with a doctor and hospital and doesn't do homebirths)said something to me last week that kicked the whole decision-making process in the gut...

When planning my first OB appointment, I intentionally set it up with one of the midwives that I most respected. I knew I could professionally approach her about my concerns over the way my last (hospital) birth was handled. and also talk over the scenerio of a homebirth. Especially since one of my friends informed me that this midwife's daughter that had tried a homebirth many states away. (Due to complications, she had to be transferred to a local hospital for a c-section.)

This particular midwife delivered my firstborn. I worked in an office with her years ago when she was associated with another OB doctor. And I know she has three daughters around my age. So I knew her to be someone I could approach both as a professional...and as a mother-type.

We talked for quite a while. Actually she talked for a while. :) And though she was not against a homebirth...and did not think me to have lost my mind with my considering it...she also did not seem too hip on the idea.

And then she said something that knocked the wind from me: "I think you'd be a great candidate for a home birth. But unfortunately, I do not trust any of the (home birthing) midwives from around here."

I could physically feel my shoulders sag. A midwife that I completely trust and appreciate cannot, in good faith, recommend a single, solitary active midwife in the area. Are you kidding me?!!! I knew that was a hard thing for her to tell me. Yet I wanted to know what she really thought. Thankfully though, she did tell me of one that she had heard about from across the mountain who sounded trustworthy... (which I am looking into)

But then, she offered me something. A curveball to my well-planned thinking. It was flattering and relieving and completely emotionally complicating.

She said that, for me, she would be "on call". Meaning that when I went into labor, even if she wasn't the one (of five partnered midwives) that was on call...she would be. for me.

Because, honestly, one of my fears has been that I would have the same midwife from last time and my body would involuntarily go into "stress mode" making the whole delivery thing that much more emotionally tiring.

What. To. Do.

I don't want to be motivated by fear. Period. But I admit, I am battling it when it comes to taking this step of faith. ...this step that goes against what most would call the only sane and responsible decision. The "What ifs" resound in my head.


But I have to silence them. Soon. For a decision HAS to be made. ALLLLLLL the many factors (insurance, my comfort level, my girls wanting to be involved in the birth, wisdom...) HAVE to be weighed. And yet, then "forgotten"...

...as I wait for the still small voice of the Lord to direct us. Whether by an unshakable peace. A clear answer. Something.

So here I am. Weighing the options. Waiting for direction. Still.

Belly Shot at 14 Weeks

**Okay...uh. wow. Your comments, though complimentary as can be, embarrassed me to pieces. Seriously. Ask Jolanthe. I'm not too hip on the whole "you don't look pregnant" comments. Never know what to say when I FEEL so pregnant. Anyway.... ;)

So, I'll just post the picture for memory sake, but no more comments allowed. But man, I know who to turn to when I start to have "I'm pregnant and fat" days! Gracious!**


I said I wasn't showing, right? Well...my belly must've taken that as a personal challenge. Because it decided to poke out. So Typical.

So here they are: A few pics of me sporting the Preggy Belly... 14 Weeks.

Obviously, I took them myself. So they aren't the best... But they'll have to do.

Raegan decided to scream and cry, demanding that I pick her up in the middle of my little photo shoot. Thus, the multi-tasking mom moment.

I'm off to go get dressed for a DATE with my Hub. I've been craving *Crab Legs*. Who knows...after tonight's smorgasboard, my belly may just GROOOOWWW some more. :)

(Note to belly: this is not a challenge!)

Ah...Barbies

Every little girl's dream doll, right?

I remember going through my phase of Barbie. Dressing her up. Fixing her hair. Accessorizing her to the Nth degree.

I remember going through a store, which has since gone out of business (over 15 years ago!) and pointing out the Barbie doll that I wanted for my next birthday. I remember the choice seemed overwhelming, as they had just come out with all the different "types" of Barbies. Skipper. Beach time Barbie. Rockstar Barbie. ...PLUS, all those cool, new clothes and accessories galore.

It was great. Do you remember the phase?

Well for years, I kept those Barbies. Hidden away in a box. Until last week.

I dragged them down from the attic so my girls could play with something new. Though I'm starting to question the wisdom of my retrieval of yesteryear's toys...

Can you see why? Look a little harder...

Or maybe the next picture will help put things into...uh, perspective. Charis turned to her side on her own volition, while I pulled off an award-winning poker-face.

Yep. That's my five year-old Double-D-Cup little girl. Only 30 minutes with these dolls and this is what she has become. A Hoot*ers wanna-be. Dear Lord, help.

Bu-bye, Barbies. Hello Cabbage Patch kids. Thankfully, I have THOSE stored up in the attic as well.

Snipers?

I just got a call from my Mom. A startling one.

Late yesterday afternoon, she drove to visit her mom. Before leaving on the trip, she told her brother, her sister, and her mom that she was not planning on spending the night. She needed to be back at her house, even though it would be really late. She wasn't coming prepared to sleep over.

Yet. Sometime during the drove over the Holy Spirit changed her mind. And she decided, though without her toothbrush or additional clothes, that she would spend the night.

This morning we all found out why.

Snipers.

At some point before midnight, on an 11-mile stretch of highway, snipers started shooting randomly into cars at the drivers.

The same exact stretch of road...around the same exact time, had she left like she was planning to...that she would have been driving on.

So right now. I'm thanking my Heavenly Father for keeping my mom safe. For being persuasive enough to convince her to stay overnight. Without her toothbrush.

His mercies are new every morning....

The Easter Season

This is one of the better Easter pictures I got on Sunday. It's actually not even good. But it has two redeeming qualities. They are all looking towards the camera at the same time. And it is a bit revealing about a side of their different personalities:
Selah doesn't have to try; she just always looks great....and cheerful. Charis is always trying to be helpful. So she always tries to dutifully smile for the camera; unfortunately, she gets bored of it easily and can end up looking like she's in pain. And Raegan...well, she is just a ham in the making.

But as "not good" as it is, I just didn't have it in me to keep trying. The girls were running around amusing themselves with their cousins. And I...am just tired to continue vying for the best shot and figure "this is good enough".

Kind of like where I've been as far as the blog is concerned. Just tired. Not feeling creative enough to put to words any of the happenings, the thoughts, or the humor that's in our lives currently. Or maybe I've been creative enough...just not motivated enough?

Eh. Who knows. Who cares. But I figure, it's all just a part of the season of life I'm in.

Do you ever find that to be true with you? You go through a season where you are just full of thoughts. dreams. excitement. And then...you suddenly find yourself smack dab in the middle of a season of rest. inactivity. silence.

There are times when I feel like I have a personal connection to the Throne Room of God. I will literally hear God preaching sermons in my head. Non stop. Great ones. Ones where I have to sit down and take notes. On an hourly basis. There are times when I only have to listen to music and close my eyes. In that moment, I can see an original dance being choreographed in front of me. Times where I can sit down at the computer and write and write and write.

And then there are times when I pray and pray and am met in silence. Thick silence. The kind where it almost echoes in your brain it's so..."loud". Times where all my previous dreams appear to have been erased from memory. Where I seemingly have become a blank slate. And while that whole "blank slate scenario" may sound exciting...a time when you presumably get to marvel in the potential and fresh beginning ahead...in that moment, the only thing it usually yields is frustration.

For me, the Cycle just seems to be a way of life. Sort of like the four weather seasons. Regardless of how exciting summer is going...how full of life it is...Fall will always creep in and take over. It just happens. Because it's just LIFE.

And as I've begun to understand this about my life (maybe it's true for all humans? or just women? or...just me?), I've learned not to fight it. not to roll around in guilt or self pity for what I'm not doing or being. but just to embrace it.

Well, okay. So maybe I'm yet to really love it. But at least I'm no longer despising it. :) Maybe later on in life, when I'm more mature, then I'll be able to fully embrace it. ?

But for now. That's where I am. A season of rest. one where there are a lot of questions that are twirling around. A lot of decisions about the immediate future that only I can make. A lot of days where I'm, honestly, just trying to make it through to the time that I know Jet is on his way home.

Just days where the hours are...though full...don't feel as full of excitement and meaning.

So yes. Life has been busy. And good. God has been busy. And good. But my mind has been so overwhelmed with the processing of it that I have no spare energy for the capturing of it.

Who knows? Maybe once I am in the middle of the second trimester, I'll get back energy AND creative thinking. But for now, I'll just REST. Take life as it comes. And enjoy it in all it's quiet wonder.

...and on that note, for those of you that are asking...I would take a belly shot, but there's not really a belly to shoot yet. Give me a few more weeks maybe? I'm only 14 weeks...

On another note, here's a picture of my Princess Charis. SHE is currently in the season of life where she loves to dress up and fully embrace everything feminine. At least TODAY. Tomorrow she may don her armor and pretend to be a Knight killing a hunter.

Apparently the seasons of life change a lot more rapidly when you're only five and the whole world is bursting with possibilities of who you get to be.

The Dance

A few years back, I was at a friend's wedding, walking towards the wedding dance floor. I stopped to talk to someone that I hadn't seen in a while, asking if she'd be joining us in dancing.

She said something that has stayed with me for the last few years. "I don't like to dance. I feel like everyone is watching."

It wasn't until later that the Lord spoke this to my heart.

"Life will always have spectators. You just have to make sure that you don't let them keep you from living."

And I had to wonder. How often do I let spectators ... even the perceived ones...keep me from truly living and loving life today?

My desire? This year I will take the time to twirl around in the rain with my daughters. Not caring that others can see. that I'm soaked and unsightly. or that I'm a grown woman acting like a child.

Lord, give me blinders. For I want to pay absolutely no heed to those hanging out on the sidelines.

Birthday Picts...

For all the long distance relatives, here are the most recent pictures of our little girl. On her FIRST dose of sugar...

Her dazed and confused look. "Do these people KNOW what they just handed me to eat?!"

One of her thrilled looks. "They DO know and they're not taking it away from me!! Fun times ahead!"

The Human Fly Killer...and the trap.

I joked in the previous blog about how I know that Spring has officially arrived. But there is yet another reason why I'm fairly positive that this amazing weather is here to stay.

And my confidence level comes in the form of hundreds of flies. Especially the ones that have stationed themselves at all three of our doors. Waiting for their opportune moment of entry into our home.

It happened all at once!! One day there were no flies. The next...at least a dozen. Or two.

Charis (5) got so frustrated with them that she stomped her feet at two of them resting on our living room rug. Killing both of them instantly. The next day, with renewed confidence in her catlike reflexes, she went after one with her hand. Yep. Killing it.

Charis was one proud little lady, let me tell you. She loves her new-found party trick and dubs herself cool because she's "faster than the flies". Ah, does a mother's heart good. *gag*


But regardless of her keen ability to kill insects on contact, the Fly Family has continued to grow in number. And honestly, it's gotten so bad that I did something that I never thought this classy-minded chick would EVER succumb to. I bought Fly strips. Ech.


You know them? Those little strips of stickiness that you hang from the ceiling or some fixture. And when the fly happens to land on it, they are unable to get off. Dying a slow death.


Now, the death part I happen to like. But the decorative remains? Not so much.


But here's the part that I figured I had better share with you...as a friendly warning of sorts. And for those of you with a queasy, weak stomach, you may want to discontinue reading right here. For I was severely sickened at the sight of it. Screaming for my husband immediately. Well...after screaming for my Maker.

We put a fly strip outside on one of our back porches. It seemed perfectly logical to me. Being that's where a lot of the flies (the BIG ones...somewhat resembling minivans) were coming in. I figured, why not. They remain OUTSIDE...because they are dead, right?!

The only problem with that theory? There are a number of other flying animals outside that would like to eat those little, trapped flies. You know, like an all-you-can-eat buffet of sorts.

Namely the hoard of hungry birds that live in our backyard.

Yes, that's right. I happened to walk by our back porch window...to a horrible sight. A small bird stuck to my $3.00 killing machine. Oh Jesus, Jesus, Jesus! was all I could say as I watched in horror. Well...that, and "JEEEEETTTTTTTT!!! HELP!"

The more it struggled, the worse it's wing started to look. Thankfully, it must've JUST gotten caught when I walked over. And thankfully I walked by at that exact moment. Because it was dusk and I never would have seen it had it been dark. And thankfully, my husband was home because I'm not sure I would've been able to grab that poor little bird and RIP its little body off as it squawked in pain.

But Jet isn't so squeamish. He rescued the little bird with his gentle, gloved hands. While I just looked on from the safely of my kitchen, hand covering my grimacing face, wondering if it would be too demented to take a picture of Tormented Bird for all my blog readers. heh heh

Yes, that's how sick...Uh, I mean...dedicated I am to share my life with those far away friends and family.

But instead of documenting this little horror show, all I could bring myself to do was to Warn You.

...If you happen to buy one of those little death traps, know that you may catch something other than FLIES if you hang it outside. *gross*

Or you could invite Charis-the-human-fly-killer over. ;)

Spring has officially started...

...for as we were outside playing, Selah asked to pee in the yard.

Birthday Girl

It wasn't much of a First Birthday for this little one today. She was sick. And had to go to the doctor's office. For shots.

Yuck.

But she was still one chipper little girl. Even the nurses commented on it. :)

She continues to amaze us with her continual joyful spirit. Can't you just see it in the above picture? The spunk? The flare? The attitude that says "Okay, since you're obviously not going to e-ver turn that camera off, I'll just go ahead and pose. How's this smile? You like?"

So much I could say about this precious little one. But words just wouldn't do it. She's irreplaceable. priceless. OURS.

I still marvel over the fact that God has given her to me. She's amazing. And I've loved every minute of her first year of life. Well...with a few exceptions during the wee hours of the morning during those first long six weeks. But after that... :)

Raegan, I love you. I couldn't love you more. I hope you never feel anything less than my unconditional acceptance.

M-A-T spells mat

*Warning! Warning* Shameless parental bragging ahead. Procede at own risk.

These days I feel like all I'm doing is laying around the house. Just this last week, my body worked overtime on completing the little baby toes, external ears, and upper lip.

Hard work, I'm telling you.

As hard as I've been...uh, working... unfortunately the whole homeschooling thing has had to go out the window for a season. It just doesn't seem to fit in with the "I can't move, I'm making baby organs right now" motto.

But apparently the girls don't need me to teach them. They've been learning new things just fine without me these past few weeks.

Selah knows each letter's sound...but then has started to break down words into those sounds. She'll walk around the house saying "Sweet. Ssss. Www. Eeee. T."

Then she started to write more letters...and just this past week, she stood at our dry erase board and tried to figure out what words she could write.

I couldn't believe it!

She's trying to figure out what other words she can write...

"Charis! What words should I write?"

:) I'm so proud of her! She's three and already teaching herself to spell! Because God knows I haven't been doing very much of it recently!

Who knows. Maybe if I continue to sit on my butt all day, she'll learn long division? Hmm... *wink*

Today I just trust. And allow my Questions to go unanswered

Do you ever feel like you are standing right where you wanted to be...only to find out you're not quite sure how to remain in the upright position while possessing that spot?


Here I am. Exactly where I wanted to be, as I am on the way to having a large family with lots of "stair step" kids. I've wanted this since my high school years. Well, at least the "stair step" part. The "lots" didn't come until later.


You see, I love everything about this concept of large families. I love watching others who have gone before and now have tons of older children. ...children who love family life. who sit around the dinner table way past the time when the plates have been cleared away just so they can chat. who stand by each other through thick and thin. who have deep relationships that will last them the entirety of their days on earth.


Maybe some would think that I have a skewed idea of what a large family is like? Possibly. But I have met many large families like this. I've seen it up close and personal. In fact, what Jet and I have found to be consistently true is that the larger a family is, the less self-absorbed the children tend to be. And the more tight-knit the family is, as a whole. Anyway, just an observation.

But as I find myself standing in this place, trying desperately to find some sort of footing as I battle the fatigue and nausea of pregnancy and the normal "reevaluation" of parenting that seems to come with every new stage your children go through... I just have to ask, "God, am I going to be able to keep my arms open to receive all your blessings for us?"

Sounds completely ridiculous when worded like that, doesn't it? Who wouldn't want to receive a BLESSING from the King of Kings? Stand back. Out of my way. I'm running for the heavenly storehouses here.

But when you interchange the word "blessings" for "children", somehow the desire to cut it off sounds more like wisdom. Why is that?

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not finger-pointing. Or judging. Nor do I have the time or energy to hold anyone's hand and make sure that their security and confidence in their own life choices remains intact while I voice my inner questions and thoughts.

Sorry if that sounds harsh to you...but I just have to be clear here. My intent is not to make any sweeping judgements. My heart is to truly grapple with something that continues to remain on MY heart. You know, being that I am pregnant with my fourth and therefore hitting the number where most people and their comments will cease to be gracious towards my having additional children. *laughing*

So anyway...as I roll these thoughts around in my head, this scripture continues to push its way to the forefront of my mind.

"Children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior so are children of one's youth. Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them..." Psalm 127:3-5

I've turned and turned this scripture around in my head. Trying to come to terms with it in my own life. And if I am to take that scripture at face value, then I can only come to the conclusion that if God wants to give me lots of children, He sees it as nothing less than a reward. a heritage. a great joy.

A bow without arrows is useless. The more arrows you have, the longer you can maintain the fight. Jet and I never want to go out into battle lacking in ammunition. Period. Nor do we want to cut off the Lord's blessing. his provision. his overflowing heart for us. We want to stand before Him, completely yielded to His Plan. BUT....?

I find at this point in my thoughts I can go into a hundred different directions. My questions. My frustrations. My excitement. My dreams. My fears. My comfort zone! All surrounding the idea of allowing the Lord to bless me with this "joy-filled reward, this Godly heritage".

This house full of children.

But honestly, I can't bring myself to step out in any of those emotion-laden directions. Not yet. For in this day, I want to just rejoice in the fact that I am carrying a small, mysterious blessing inside me. At least that's the hope. Because I do have questions. Lots of them.

But after acknowledging them, I now see that I have to choose not to analyze them to death. Which, for me, is near-impossible. ;)

Because when it comes down to it, I have no clue what tomorrow holds. Even though people continually ask me "Is this it?" regarding the size of my family. I hope it's not "it". But, like I said, I truly don't know what God has in store for us.

But this I do know:

I can't strategically fight my part of a battle that is not be played out right now. with the grace that has been set aside for another time. All I can do is keep my heart yielded before Him, allowing Him to be The King.

Lord, I want to have my feet firmly planted in the now. Fully embracing this joyful reward and Godly heritage that You have blessed us with. Knowing that I'm not only where I want to be on this journey of becoming a "large family", but I'm where YOU want me to be as well.

That said, I know that YOU will remain in the upright position while possessing this spot. Even when I have to lie down and rest.

Weekend Update

This weekend held a few "firsts" for our family. And though most of you...the unrelated bunch...probably won't get too excited, this is for memory sake. And for an insider's view into our home life for those who love my children. :)


1. Charis, though she has been talking about getting married and buying a house and having a brood of children for a while now, gave me a little peak into her preferences regarding the male race.

"I don't like bald men."

Hmm. That was random. But okay. I'll keep that in mind when meeting your potential suitors. Supposedly, you can look at the boy's mother's father...if he's bald, then the boy will be bald as well. (Am I getting that right?)

I'm sure he'll just love that I'm keeping tabs on his future hairline. ....All for the love of a daughter, right? ;)


2. Charis had her first communion during church.

Unfortunately for us, our church doesn't do children's church on the first Sunday of the month until after worship. Usually the younger children have their own church time of songs and stories and puppets, etc. at the start of the service. But on Communion Sunday, all the kids are present.

This has posed a bit of a challenge in the past as the plates of bread and mini "cups" of juice are passed through the rows. Little hands and empty mouths don't understand why the grown-ups are getting "snack" and they aren't. :)

Charis, at age 5, has a fairly deep understanding of Jesus and what he did for her. what He's asking of her. what He feels for her. And she asked Jesus into her heart this past summer. Randomly, all that passed through my mind as the communion plate was passed to me. All of the sudden, I just knew it was the right timing for her.

Jet's and my eyes (and smiles) met over her head as I held out the communion bread to her. She looked at me, unsure. And then with a huge smile on her face, followed my lead and pinched off a piece. I whispered to her, telling her again of what the bread represented and why we eat it as a reminder. She listened intently.

And then. She said, "I like juice, too." Her way of asking if she would get to be a part of the drink as well. *grin*

She leaned over, after it was all done, and gave me the sweetest hug, saying "I love you so much, Mommy." I knew at that point just how much our allowing her to be a part of communion meant to her. She loves being "big" and we want to encourage her, especially in her relationship with the Lord, to never feel that she can't enter in until she's "older".

Now, what does that mean for Selah? It's a little bit of a tricky one. Especially when a few nights later Selah is crying in bed. When I finally got to the bottom of what she was feeling she said, "I don't want to be here anymore. I want to be in heaven with Jesus." She was crying so hard at this point that I could barely understand her.

Why, Selah? Why do you want to be in heaven?

"Because I want to taste the bread too. I never got to."

Oh dear Jesus. Give us wisdom.



3. Raegan took her first full step. At my mom's house. To my mom. ;)

We were all sitting around in their family room. Raegan was hanging onto the coffee table in front of the couch where Jet and I were sitting. Mom was on the floor hanging out with Raegan.

All of the sudden, Raegan let go of the table, deliberately turned to mom, and then walked towards her a step and a half-ish before falling into her arms.

Jet and I couldn't see her face, but Mom said she could just see Raegan's expression change. This look of determination came over her. And then she took her first step.

Incidentally, she has taken more steps since then. Practicing by herself!! She'll crawl over to a chair or coffee table, pull up on it, and then let go and take a step or two before falling down and doing it all over again. Walking to no one in particular. That girl is a determined one!!! You can see it in her eyes that she wants to be up and around with her sisters. I have a feeling when she does walk, it will be at a runner's pace.


4. I ate chocolate for the first time since I've been pregnant. Not that I particularly craved it, mind you. But I just wasn't feeling sick and by golly...I wanted to taste it in my mouth again. hee hee

Thankfully, the sickness HAS lessened this past week!!! It's literally gone from an all day event to an evening affair. Every day around 4:30, it hits me. But hey! I won't complain...at least I can eat for the better part of the day without running to the bathroom.

This is a marked improvement since a week and a half ago, I laid on the couch literally crying "Jet, would you be alright if we just had four? I don't think I can do this again."

THANK YOU, God that those desperate moments have passed. Maybe that means it's a boy? I don't remember how long the sickness lasted with Raegan, the first two pregnancies had 24 hour sickness for at least 5 months.

Though I have to admit, I would not be AT ALL upset if I am carrying another girl. Just today, I was looking at my daughters as we played in the floor and was about driven to tears over how much I love them. ...and I told them so on the spot. Saying that I almost hoped this baby was another girl because I just love my girls so much.

To which my oldest child said, "Does that mean you don't want a boy? Jesus gets to decide, you know."

Kids. They learn quick, don't they? Quick enough to make sure that they get reteach you (IE. make you eat your words) the lesson you just taught them last month.