Our Story - December 18th, 2011

I gathered the kids quickly, locked the dead bolt on the back door, hustled everyone out the front door, and then reached into my purse to make sure I had my keys before I locked the front door.  As I hurriedly jumped in my front seat, I reached in my purse for those keys I had just felt, and when I found them I realized they were my spare keys to my truck—not the keys to my house.   My heart sank as I began digging in my mess of a purse for my cell--then I realized I didn't have that either.  It was surely with wherever my keys were.  My day went from bad to worse just like that.  I only had one set of house keys and of course no spare hidden in a safe place.

All day I had been wrestling with God.  I was a single mom of three: 10, 7, and 4. I had recently moved and was struggling with mice—of all things, I do not do mice!  My truck was in need of some major repair and barely creeping along, Christmas was only one week away and it was going to be our first Christmas alone.  Only months before had I clearly felt the presence of God releasing me from a broken marriage wrought with abuse and infidelity.  Why, if he had told me we would be okay alone, were we struggling?  This was my argument with God all day on December 18^th, 2011. 

I tried the credit card trick because I had been quite successful at this in the past but to no avail.  I really really did not know what to do next.  As I sat in the driveway in my truck contemplating what to do next I argued more with God.  We were on our way to church for a fellowship evening.  There was maybe an hour left of daylight.  Who was most capable and available to help me break in?  Our vocational pastor was a full time police officer—surely he’d be skilled at break ins—but he also was not very available.  As I thumbed through different men from church I couldn't come up with anyone that I just knew was the right person for the job.  However, there was a man that had recently begun attending our church.  I knew he was available because I was supposed to be his ride to church that evening.  I was reluctant to ask him but I was feeling a little out of options and hope. 

The first time I met Paul at church was November 6^th when I ran into him in the hall, right by the bathrooms, and asked, “What are you doing?”  (I’m not known for my suave)  I was acquainted with Paul from a few years back—work related.  I had also adopted his dog, Dixie, about 6 months prior.  My acquaintanceship with Paul started and ended there.  We come from a very small, rural community—everyone knows everyone—somehow.  Nonetheless, I was excited to see him.  I was always excited to see guests at church.  Our church was recently going through some growth and I was so excited to see it.  That Sunday morning my family and I sat down in our usual pew to get settled.  I noticed Paul was sitting on a pew that was usually empty; he was also alone.  I waited a bit to see if anyone was going to join him.  When I realized he was it and sitting on a lonely pew bench I gathered my bunch and we moved pews!  I purposely sat several seats away from him and placed a few children between us.  I was very modest and concerned about perception.  This went on for a few weeks until I found out he was walking to church.  The weather was turning and not always suitable for walking.  The first time I offered to give him a ride to church, he refused.  The next time—I didn't give him an option.  I think it may have been a Sunday morning and I noticed the weather wasn’t very nice, I sent him a face book inbox that said, I would be there at 9.  He later on told me, he wasn’t even planning on going that Sunday.  I love how God works.  Paul was attending church regularly, but I noticed he was very quiet and maybe a little shy.  Paul was hearing impaired and I worried that he wasn’t comfortable or even worse, people weren’t comfortable with him.  My nature is very much a “make everyone comfortable” one—so I began inviting and almost insisting he participate in the several fellowships we were having that holiday season.  The first was a Thanksgiving Dinner, where I made him eat this delicious cracker dip and he nearly vomited it back up on me (that’s when I learned of his meat and potato, country boy palette), the next was a Christmas fellowship (I didn't force feed him anything this time--for fear of a repeat of the previous dinner), and last that season was the December 18^th video night. 

When I arrived to Paul’s house to pick him up for the fellowship I was consumed with fret.  Mostly for prideful reasons—I wasn’t the kind of person that locked her keys AND cell phone in her house, and let’s say I did, I could usually get myself out of predicaments like this.  Asking for help was not in my comfort zone.  As I examined my options and realized there was only an hour of daylight left, I swallowed my pride and asked him if he could help me.  Even though Paul was kind of hard to read and he rarely showed much exaggerated emotion—he was very kind and always so gentleman like.  I wasn’t surprised when he eagerly accepted my plea for help. 

I decided to leave my kiddos at church so at least they could enjoy the evening—I had successfully ruined mine and Paul’s the way I saw it.  Paul worked feverishly to break in.  Even he couldn’t get the credit card trick to work (made me feel a little better and a little less sucky).  Paul was working up a sweat and I was racking up the guilt.  However, the whole time he was attempting a break in and running into obstacles, he remained incredibly level headed.  Not once did I see him react out of impatience of frustration—I honestly did not know how to respond to that.  The previous men of my life would have had several choice words by now and expressed exasperation at the situation.  I think Paul’s lack of curse words and temper made me feel even guiltier about putting him in this situation.  I convinced myself I had ruined his evening.  Out of desperation Paul decided he would have to drill a hole in my window in order to push the lock open.  I think he could see the look of fear in my face when he said that—so he said, “Let me check the windows one more time.”  Even though we both knew that he had checked all the windows multiple times and I had warned him I was a bit OCD about making sure that they were locked at all times.  The sun had gone down and I was chilly, so I sat in the truck, and I couldn’t help but let the tears fall.  I sat in my front seat crying uncontrollably when all of a sudden I noticed Paul standing in my open front door waving and wearing a huge smile that boasted, “I DID IT!” I was a little shocked.  As I got out of the car I tried to remove all evidence that I had been crying and I joined him.  I listened to him excitedly recount how he was able to get a window, which he knew was locked, open, as he escorted me to the kitchen window as to show off the miracle.  Once in the kitchen I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.   I lost it—and guess what—if I wasn’t the person to lock her keys and cell in her house, I wasn’t the person to cry in front of people—especially strange men!  Paul looked a little uncomfortable about this crazy woman crying uncontrollably, but he reached out and put his hand around my shoulder—I cried even harder.  I can’t even tell you why I was crying.  Maybe because my day had been rough on me, I felt a little broken that day.  I was also beyond grateful for Paul.  Not only had he saved my evening, he did it with a merry heart—for that I was indebted and impressed.

There weren’t a whole lot of words after that.  I took Paul home, stopped for the kids, and then settled in for the night.  Later that evening, after I had tucked all the kids in bed and had a few moments to regroup, I text Paul to say an extra thank you and I will never forget what he text back: It was kind of nice to be needed for once.  That was it—I don’t think either of us slept that night—we stayed up until the wee hours texting about everything you could imagine.  And that’s that—the story of when we first saw each other's hearts!

Cochlear Implant Miracle

Written: October 10, 2012


Paul and I have been saying since day one that we are going to write our story. Well, since I’m sitting in a very quiet hospital room with not much to do (no children need tending, no house work beckoning me, and a husband that only needs my presence right now) I figured I’d give it a start. 

Rather than back tracking and beginning the story from the beginning, I’ll start with the “hear” and now or the relevance of the here and now. Paul was a hearing person until 2002 when a severe inner ear infection prompted an auto immune disorder to attack his cochlear nerves and destroy his hearing. The damage left nearly no natural hearing in his right ear and about 25% in his left. He received a cochlear implant in the right ear in 2003, and combined with a hearing aid on his left to amplify his remaining natural hearing, he functioned at a rather moderate hearing level. 

Unfortunately the implant unexpectedly failed in 2009—leaving only his left ear for hearing, which fluctuates from bad to really bad, regularly. An over the phone diagnostic test, at the time, seemed to rule out all explanations except that of internal device failure. 

In December of 2011 the unfortunate event of me locking myself out of my house led to a beautiful wedding less than four months later to none other than THE Mr. Paul Mattes. Paul’s hearing impairment was never even an issue; in fact it was almost like it didn’t exist—we just naturally overcame any communication struggles that you would expect. But, something never did sit right with me that his implant had suddenly failed years ago and only a satellite diagnostic test was performed to determine the cause. Since I didn’t want Paul to feel like his hearing was troublesome to me, I never pushed it; by that I mean I never brought it up—although it never seemed to leave me peacefully alone. Months after the wedding I still felt God calling me to address it. So I did what every good, Southern, bossy wife would do—I made him an appointment with the leading specialist 4 hours away and told him to go! This is what I knew: I knew that we served a living God that still performs miracles. I prayed for a miracle and prepared for the worse.

The visit confirmed that the internal device had failed. I was pretty heartbroken, but I also knew that God’s will is perfect. Then true to God’s character he did more than I ever imagined. It was determined that we were within months of a warranty period which would cover an upgraded replacement device, the surgery, and all expenses associated with the procedure. MONTHS!!! MONTHS!!! Every time I think about it, I get teary. God never ceases to surprise us and pour his grace on us. That’s just how much he loves us folks!

My plea for you today is to listen—seek and listen to Him—then obey. Our creator loves us boundlessly! I hope that this short excerpt from our story brings you hope, a smile, and shines Glory on our Maker. 

Country Biscuits

Easy County Biscuits

3C Self Rising Flour

2 TBS. Sugar

½ TBS. Salt

2/3C Veg. Oil

1-1/3C Buttermilk or Soured Milk (see below)

1.       Measure and set aside 1-1/3C Buttermilk (if you do not have buttermilk on hand, add 2-3 tbs. of lemon juice or vinegar to your regular milk) I never have buttermilk on hand for some reason.

2.       Mix self rising flour, sugar, salt

3.       Pour vegetable oil in flour mixture and use pastry cutter (or fork or hands) to cut in the oil. 

4.       Create a well in your mix and pour in buttermilk.

5.       Mix until all dry ingredients become sticky wet. (it will be pretty wet)

6.       Dump batter on to a floured surface. 

7.       Sprinkle top of batter with flour and begin kneading.

8.       Knead lightly (just until batter is no longer sticky)

9.       Roll out dough about 1-1/2” to 2” thick

10.   Use biscuit cutter  to cut your biscuits (in my case a plastic cup haha)

11.   Bake at 425* for 20 minutes (or until golden brown on top)

**I use about a 2” round cup.  We like big biscuits.  This recipe makes about a dozen large biscuits for us.

Homemade Granola

Homemade Granola

12C Oats (whatever is on hand quick, regular, organic)

1-1/2C Brown Sugar

2/3C Froz. Apple Juice Concentrate

2/3C Honey

1/4C Cinnamon

1 tsp. salt

1.       On medium heat melt brown sugar, juice concentrate, honey, cinnamon, and salt.

2.       Pour mixture into oats and mix evenly.

3.       Bake at 450* for 10-15 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes. 

**Edges have tendency to burn, and the granola won’t seem crunchy enough at first, but will harder as it sits. 

Homemade Yogurt

Supplies Needed:

Crockpot

Candy Thermometer (need to measure 115*)

Cheesecloth or thin tea towel

Colander   

Large Bath Towel

Cooler (large enough to hold your crock pot insert)

Milk (your choice 2%, whole, organic, etc.)

Yogurt Starter (Plain, Greek is my choice)

1.       Fill your crock pot with your choice of milk and cover.  Heat to 115* EXACTLY

(This took less than 1 hour on high in my crock pot).  If you accidentally get too high just cool it       off until you get it back to the needed temp.

2.       When your milk reaches 115* EXACTLY remove a ladle full of your milk and mix with 1/4C of your Plain Yogurt Starter in a separate bowl.  Once mixed well add them both back to your crock pot.  Replace Lid.

3.       Place a large bath towel on your table fully opened.

4.       Remove your crock pot insert and place in the middle of the bath towel.  Wrap the crock pot insert with bath towel.

5.       Place the wrapped crock pot insert in your cooler.  Close cooler lid.  Allow to “cook” for 7-12 hours.  The longer you cook it, the tarter flavored yogurt you get.

6.       When you have cooked your yogurt to your desired flavor, you are ready to strain the whey from it.  Sit a colander lined with cheese cloth or a cotton tea towel in a stock pot that is deeper than the colander itself.  (The colander edges should sit over the stock pot creating a space for the whey to fall below.  Make sure the two of these units together can still fit on a refrigerator shelf)  

7.       Pour your cooked yogurt from your crock pot into the lined colander.  Fold any remaining fabric up where it is not hanging off the sides and stick in the fridge.   The whey will soak into the fabric and will leak onto your refrigerator shelves if it hangs down.  The whey straining process takes all day or night depending on when you make your yogurt!

8.       After about 10 hours or so of straining you will be left with thick, creamy yogurt.  Discard the whey and scoop the yogurt into any container of your choice.  (We use leftover plastic yogurt containers).  Refrigerate for up to 7 days!

**The cooked yogurt consistency before you strain the whey is very thin.  Somewhere between milk and yogurt.

**The strained whey should fill up several inches of your stock pot and is yellow tinted looking water.

You can use the plain yogurt as a sour cream replacement or flavor with your choice sweetner.

I flavor my yogurt with maple syrup and vanilla.  You can add frozen or fresh fruit.  Use the yogurt for smoothies, etc. 

A Birth Story from Dad

Birth story
Dad's version
It was Monday morning
We have been anticipating the "signal" that things were about to progress into labor. I was just waiting for my wife to look at me and say " we are going to have a baby today"
Monday March 11th it happened. She looked at me and said "we are going to have a baby today" I instantly started the list of To Dos in my head. All that was put on hold. My wife wanted to help it along. Walking, pumping, exercising her hips. And big meal of spicy food. I thought what a cool day to have a baby since the two oldest siblings were born on the 11th of different months. As evening approached and no progress I was starting to think. It's not going to be today. But she was having contractions but not the OUCH ones yet. Then as I was about to give up hope then she says "these are the ones I've been looking for and they're steady" I started timing her contractions. Really steady about 4 1/2 min apart. Our midwife was called and coming. And suddenly I'm saying to myself. Dude, it's on like donkey kong man! Get on the list of to dos!!! Start laundry, change outside bulbs, clean kitchen, blah blah blah I had super human energy and speed BLAMO I was ready! I kept looking at my wife's face to measure where she was physically and emotionally. My job was to help her stay on top of this. Give up is not an option so it's Go or Go.
Time went by and at 11pm she was at 4cm. All day and she was just at a 4! But I knew things could pick up pretty quickly. So at 2 am I was expecting 8 or 9.
Nope!!! 5!!!!
Inside I thought "no no no this is going to be drawn out long!" I had prayed all day to God that it would be quick for my wife. I didn't pray for easy but quick and for her to have strength. We were both in the water now. I'm keeping a little pressure on her low back. Everyone left the room. We now had us time. Her laboring and leaning on me. Me encouraging her best I could and just loving her. It seems we spent all night holding each other in the water. I had notice her contractions had gotten steeper.
Suddenly she cries out "Lucy!!! I'm pushing!!" At this point my emotions were super high and every bit of my body became numb as if my only focus was Vivian. Everyone was back in the room with just Vivian and I focused on one another. She switched gears and was now on mission. I could see the focus shift in her. I was gently telling her she is doing it. Breathe through baby. Her grip tightened on my shoulders and I craved it. It was like she was putting some of the burden on me and that's what I wanted! Lucy was using a flash light to see if she could see a baby coming. I seem Lucy's face say "I see a head" but I didn't hear her speak it. Vivian did. She reached down and felt the baby's head. Her face lit up brightly and a huge smile on her face she looked at me and said "ok! Here he comes" this is the first time she assigned gender to "it" and with a huge push griping my shoulders and a loud exclamation she did it! Lucy and I both reaching for the baby. Both grasping this new life!
We both pull the baby up as Vivian rocked back to a squatting position. And he emerged out of the waters. Vivian had told me prior that she didn't want me to tell whether "it" was a boy or girl. She wanted to find out on her own. I was half way determined to fulfill her wish but baby was not into it. As soon as "he" broke the water surface his gender made its appearance with an arc of pee proudly pouring into the air. I looked at Vivian while I avoided the incoming fire if she figured out he was a boy yet :-)
We both just held him. In the water there he was, our brand new baby boy. Beautiful as a morning sun rise and just as much created by God almighty. Every thing was perfect. We together us three for moments just holding one another. Then as mommy was talking to her brand new son he opened his eyes looking straight at her. This is where I may have had a few leaks in my eyes.
Glorious! Then it was time for me to get out and dressed into my dry clothes. With lightening speed I was dressed and ready. My next task to cut the cord. Lucy handed me the surgical Scissors. I checked them to make sure they were sharp by rubbing the blades with my thumb. Things I do is check my tools before use. And when she told where to cut I did. Now our boy was shareable!
So I was handed our son. All by myself just me and him. So little. So fragile. My proudness beaming. So since the momma was going to be busy for a bit getting out if the water I was going to go show him off to his sleeping siblings. First Hannah. She was really sleeping and very hard to wake but she was the oldest so she was first to get the news. Then Hallie. As soon as I said baby she was in an upright position. Hannah was fully awake by now too so I had them both guess boy or girl?
They stuck to their previous guesses. Hannah boy, Hallie girl. Then I looked at both of them and said say hello to your new baby brother! Both had the biggest smiles :-)
Now Lane. He would not be roused from his slumber. So I took my son and went and sat in our rocker just staring at him and left the job of waking Lane to the sisters. He came in to see his new baby brother :-)
Then Lucy called me back and said "your wife wants you and the baby" Hahahahaha I couldn't help myself I asked " what? She jealous?" 
The rest of the morning is a blur from making sure my wife was ok to our new son being weighed and measured until it was time for everyone to leave. 6:30 am we laid down. His birthday 3/12/13 a good day to have a baby

A Birth Story: It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade ~ Charles Dickens

Every birth has its very own story; each unique and filled with pride and joy—each profound and life transforming—and each impossible for a mother to forget for her entire earth's journey!  

Asa was born at 3:22 am on March 12, 2013; his arrival came much later than anticipated, but lacked no splendor.  His earth side debut was a magnificent one that amasses the details of the love he was created in. 

Asa is the first baby born to Paul and me.  We each brought three wonderful children to our family from our first marriages; two girls and one boy from both of us.  Paul and I both knew we wanted more children as soon as possible so we wasted no time after our wedding to do our part!  Paul has promised to never let me forget how much money I spent on over the counter pregnancy test when we were trying to conceive—he’s done a good job of not breaking that promise.  At one point, he joked he was going to have to give me an allowance for the tests! Fortunately it didn’t take too long to get a positive (of course, that’s another day I’ll never forget!) and only a few more test to convince me it was true!

Paul knew from before conception, actually before our wedding, he was marrying what he calls a “hippy”, I don’t know about all that, but he knew what he was getting himself into with his strong-willed, against the grain wife, and he knew if we had a baby of our own it would be born at home.  His first three births were cesarean and mine were a combination of traditional hospital and home births—with home birth being the most beautiful and the gold standard.  I’m so blessed that our hearts are one in the same and that he is such a supportive husband who not only supports emotionally but does his own research and fact gathering!  He was always onboard, no questions asked!

Before pregnancy, I did proudly boast of what a wonderful pregnant person I was, how I adored pregnancy and felt more whole pregnant than when not, and how pregnancy never slowed me down, and how I never got tired of being pregnant.  Perhaps I forgot to take into account that my last pregnancy was nearly six years prior and I wasn’t in my twenty’s anymore?  This pregnancy was by far more physically challenging than I ever could have prepared myself for, and when we saw 40 weeks pregnant come and go, I was overwhelmed; all three of my first babies came sometime in week 39.  When week 41 got here, I was done! All the ailments of a pregnant body ensued me: heart burn, back ache, swollen fingers and toes that fell asleep, I could no longer wear my wedding ring, in fact, I could barely walk without excruciating back pain, you name it, I likely had it .  Fortunately I was so blessed that since we expected a baby sometime in week 39, Paul had started staying close to home (I mean he would only leave if he could be home in ten minutes) and he picked up all the slack (I mean he did nearly everything).

My philosophy on pregnancy and birth is “Leave It Alone”!  It is divinely created by our sovereign Creator—it cannot be adjusted to be any more perfect than the way He made it.  I am a supporter of letting your baby pick its birthday with no intervention, and of this, I also proudly imparted.  But on Sunday, March 10, 2012, (week 41) I broke down.  (By the way, this wasn’t the first break down.)  Over the last couple of weeks, Paul had grown accustomed to wiping my tears and listening to me melt in total despair.  My labor had seemed to start and stop at least twice over the last week, so Sunday morning when I woke up, still pregnant with no immediate signs of a nearing baby, I was devastated, not to mention anti-social.  I decided to skip church and let my husband and the kids go without me.  I couldn’t bear the thought of answering another, “When are you going to have that baby?”, “Baby yet?”, “How long will you go before your doctor does something?”, “Still here?” , “You haven’t even dropped yet!” … any mother who has gone over her estimated due date can empathize with these nails-on-chalkboard statements.   While the kids and Paul were at church, I was lying in bed, soaked in tears, when my midwife (affectionately nick-named Birth Fairy God Mother) text to just check on me.  I finally just let go and told her I was done.  Up until that point, I had not wanted a cervical check; for a variety of medical reasons, but mostly because what’s the purpose?  You can walk around at 2 centimeters dilated for weeks; it’s not clear indication of when labor will start.  After I broke down, she offered to swing by on her way home from church and check me and I was glad she offered.  I’m not sure my pride would have let me ask yet, but I was mentally and emotionally ready.  She also offered to do a membrane sweep, which I decided I would accept or decline based on the cervical check.  I checked in with Paul and he agreed that if I was ok with a membrane sweep, it was within our boundaries of natural.  Paul and the kids made it home from church and Lucy made it to our house shortly after.  I was ready, this was it, let’s make things happen was my attitude and do not be disappointed by a cervical check was my mantra, after all I knew, it wasn’t the end all be all of labor indication!

I was a 2.5 and 50% effaced, baby was also still very high.  Really, really…fourth baby, and forty one weeks pregnant….sigh.  Yes, I accepted the membrane sweep and prayed that it would make something happen...soon!  Before she left, Lucy sat on my bed and let me cry into her arms, which I fully took advantage of!  She offered to check again the next day and repeat the sweep if needed.  For the rest of the afternoon I cramped and even saw some evidence of more cervical thinning (YAY) and by evening the cramps had turned out a few contractions but by Monday morning NOTHING...NOTHING! That’s when I decided I was going to get my baby! Stubborn was a word I refused to use because I knew it wasn’t true.  This baby was simply cozy and really loved being inside of mommy—I just needed to encourage! 

I defiantely told Paul, “Today, today, I am having this baby!” Walking, squatting, sitting on my fit ball, and employing the natural method that got me pregnant in the first place, had all been a part of my regiment for weeks, but I thought if I added some grueling hills to my walk, some pot holes, use of a breast pump, AND another sweep—that would do it!  That would surely do it.  I decided if it didn’t, I was giving up and carrying the baby until it was 18!

My appointment with Lucy was at 5 pm and right afterwards we had a basketball event with our girls.  Determined to get things moving before my efforts had to be put on pause for, you know, life, I spent all day walking, pumping, squatting, walking, pumping, squatting, repeat.   When I saw Lucy again, I was tired and felt defeated because really I didn’t feel much different than I had the day before.  She checked me and I was a 4, a “little thinner”, but baby was still pretty high.  Hmph…labor attempts on pause and off to basketball we go!  

While at the girls’ basketball event I could feel Paul trying to do his sixth sense thing on me.  He kept scoping me out for signs of change.  I kept giving him the look of, “Just give up, would ya!”  When the event was over, I requested Thai food.  I’m the only one in our family that loves it and I usually don’t make a fuss for it, but I figured even if the silly old wives tale of spicy food or curry doesn’t work, I deserved it!  Haha.  We grabbed some take out for me and headed home with frozen pizza for everyone else.  It was after 8 pm by now and no major signs of change—a little cramping but that was something I was used to for weeks and I had learned not to trust it. 

I could see in all of Paul’s being he was tired too.  I had wore him out today.  I was used to him picking up all the slack, but tonight I could tell he was a little over it too.  Somehow we got the kids all in bed by around 10 pm.  I had begun contracting but was afraid to lead Paul on another wild goose chase so I didn’t say anything.  But by 11 pm I knew things were actually progressing, so I finally spoke up and let him know I was feeling pretty confident we might actually have a baby sooner rather than later!  He timed a few contractions and all of a sudden there was an immediate change in his countenance.  Suddenly, my husband that I know and love so well emerged, from his cocoon of emotional protection and he was washed with a wave of determination and energy.  I let my best friend (and amazingly talented photographer) know that I was ready for her to come and felt sure she wasn’t going to leave without pictures of a new baby and I let Lucy know I was finally confident that she wouldn’t leave without catching a baby.  (I had been in close contact all day, but very cautious, up until this point, to tell her, “Yes, you can come now.”)

Paul and I began preparing the house, well mostly Paul, and I just walked around occasionally stopping for contractions, offering emotional support to Paul!  Hahaha, he had made himself some sort of mental list that included laundry, kitchen, light bulb replacement, etc.  I don’t really even know where this list came from, but I liked it because it exemplified my husband—he shines in action, it’s one of his awesome character traits!  Erin (best friend) showed up and we visited for a while as my contractions were picking up but not intense.  Shortly after Erin arrived, Lucy arrived, and shortly after Lucy arrived, my water broke!  Now, this has never happened to me so early in labor.  I was accustomed to my water breaking near 8, 9 centimeters and by then I was usually already in the water or in too deep of labor to care.  My water breaking in the middle of the kitchen, when I wasn’t even done just chilling out totally cramped my style! I felt completely at the mercy of how willing I was to put up with the constant leak—which was pretty much not at all.  I was super whiney about it too!  I’m sure Lucy and Dana (Lucy’s awesome apprentice and soon to be one amazing midwife) were saying, “Get over it!”  to themselves but since they are so sweet they just looked at me liked they loved me despite my frustration over broken water! Hahahaha   

Since the constant leak was not my thing I decided getting in the birth tub was probably best for everyone, but I wanted to know where I was before I got in (even though I know this is never a good idea—it almost always leads to some sort of false deduction about labor).  I was at a 5 and the baby was still really high.  A part of me wanted to wait and not get in the water just yet since I now thought it was going to be a much, much longer night than I had anticipated, but the uncontrollable leak was enough to convince me otherwise, even despite my disappointment.  It was into the early morning hours, probably around 2 am, and I was tired.  I had exhausted myself the day before trying to convince this baby to come.  I began resting as much as possible between contractions—successfully falling asleep a little.  Everyone but Paul had quietly slipped into the other room and it was just Paul and me in our quiet, dimmed bedroom.  I noticed things had intensified a little and I now wanted Paul to touch me when I was contracting—I needed his presence, his touch, his voice, to keep me focused--to keep me grounded.  The back pain that had befriended me early in my pregnancy and latched on like a leach made its existence known in labor and I soon needed Paul in the water to put pressure on my back.  By this point, I might have been in the water for about 45 minutes. 

This is where things get sketchy for me.  I seem to remember repositioning a few times, trying to find the best way to alleviate the discomfort in my low back and keep a hold of myself during contractions, which now seemed to give me very little rest in between.  I remember being lost somewhere between my husband and my labor –both of them fighting hard for me.  I could hear Paul talking, undoubtedly reminding me to breathe through it or reminding me I could do it, but I honestly don’t remember what he was saying.  It didn’t matter, his voice simply kept me...there.  Paul sat in the water, back against the tub with his legs opened and I faced him on my knees, and leaned into his body.  I wrapped my arms around his neck while my head rested on his shoulder.  I stayed here and I almost remember whispering to him how hard it was getting—but maybe I only whispered in my heart.  Rest in between contractions disappeared and all of a sudden my body was fighting the urge to push.  Only one hour, or so, before I was at a 5 and the baby was still high—the thought, “Could this really be?” rolled through my head but two or three more contractions of fighting the urge to push and I knew I had to find the strength to call for Lucy.  Somehow I managed to do so with the few seconds of breath I had between contractions. 

I don’t know how long it was from the time I called for Lucy to the time Asa crowned; it seemed less than ten minutes to me.  I remember feeling that familiar ring of fire burn but thinking I still had some work to do to get his head completely delivered.  When Lucy said his head was out I was joyfully surprised.  My heart knew this baby was going to have a head full of dark hair so I reached down and felt beautiful, soft hair flowing in the water!  I was immediately determined…despite the pain and the split second thought of, "Take it slow."; I wanted to meet this person that was growing inside of me for so long.  I wanted to bring him to the water and see that beautiful face!  Still facing my husband on my knees, I seized his strong shoulders, and drawing on every fiber of resolve I had and pulling what more strength I needed from him, I pushed with all that I had left!  Oh that euphoric moment when their soul emerges from your body and what had been one for so long instantly becomes two!!!  As we brought the baby (gender unknown until right now) to the water, he presented himself proudly and I think I noticed he was a boy before I even saw his sweet face!  Seconds later he affectionately peed on his papa!

The next moments are like a photograph zeroed in on a crystal clear spot with the surrounding image blurred.  Everything around me is hazy, no one else has a presence, except my husband and our son.  Paul and I seemed to melt into each other, suspending this new life between us.  He is perfect seemed to resonate piercingly amidst our silence.  We rested in this jubilation for several moments—until his life cord that connected us as one ceased and he was his own.  Paul then got out of the water and into dry clothes in preparation for the honors of Asa’s first moments as a single being.  I had only a few moments left with him physically connected to me.  I cherished them and I used them for just us…I remember no one else except him and me.  Then, it was just...me.  Paul proudly and without timidity separated us—and with a gentle departing kiss and an “I love you” the two of them disappeared--Father and Son.

As I began the process of delivering the life organ that connected my son to me for those 41 long weeks, I caught a glimpse of Paul entering each of the childrens' rooms, mightily carrying a surprise, wrapped only in a towel.   My heart filled with delight knowing that they would each be stirred from their slumber to such beautiful news, “We have a baby brother!”

Before long everyone in the house was up and around and we basked in our world of elation, beaming over the new one.  And just as dawn broke, we all fell asleep, thanking God for his gift.

"It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade" ~ Charles Dickens