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

The Hardest Choice A Parent Has to Make

Today was the hardest day I’ve ever faced as a parent.  It was also my daughter’s twelfth birthday.  Some decisions we make about and for our children are so easy, some are more difficult, and then a few are like ripping our own hearts out. 

Our daughter, Hannah, was born with a gift.  She loves animals—to her, they are people, maybe even superior to people.  She’s the only one in our family that has this gift, and as you know, when you have a special gift that not many share, you sometimes feel alone.  Occasionally I wish she didn’t have this gift (mostly because I see the isolation it brings her).  But more often than wishing God had not given her this gift, I wished that someone else in our family shared it with her—maybe even me, so I, her mother, of all people, could give her heart something that I fall so desperately short of.

It is so difficult as a parent when you feel like you can’t give something to your child.  I don’t mean the coolest pair of sneakers on the shelf, but to give to their hearts.  In this way, I can only try to imagine the agony that parents of chronically ill or terminally ill children must feel.  May our Lord bless these families with glory and riches beyond our imagination upon His return!

Hannah’s best friend was a 4 year old, 65 lb, wet nosed pit bull—Dixie.  Dixie was hit by a car about a year ago.  The accident was terrible.  She had three fractures and we didn’t think she was going to make it.  Dixie and Hannah share the same steady as an oak stubbornness! Dixie pulled through and made a full recovery.  But as time went on we began to notice subtle changes in her personality.  She was increasingly protective of Hannah—to the point, we, her family, were the one Dixie felt the need to protect Hannah from.  She seemed to be less patient with the other children in the home nipping at both of them and started showing aggression to other animals, including her fur-siblings who had been in the home for years.  After two very aggressive attacks on some of our country yard animals, the choice we had to make was not a choice at all.  But the only option meant breaking our daughter’s heart.  You pray, if there is any other way, God—please let it be. 

Last night after the most aggressive attack Dixie has made, Paul and I sat down to pray.  We knew it had to be done.  Dixie could no longer even be given to another home—she was too dangerous a threat to other animals and people.  Paul made the call to the vet and they told us to bring her in tomorrow first thing in the morning.  When he hung up the phone, we both stared at each other—tomorrow is Hannah’s birthday.  How do we break her heart and what kinds of parents do that to their daughter on her birthday? Our hearts were broken too—for Hannah. 

Neither Paul nor I slept too well last night.  We snuggled tight, silently, and just prayed.  This morning we tried to pretend it was a normal Saturday morning.  We solemnly drank coffee as the children silently slept; knowing the task ahead was not easy.  At last, Paul set down his coffee cup and headed to wake Hannah.  My prayers hastened in their fervency; thanking God for the husband I had, for his courage and boldness, for his faithfulness in the Lord, for his fruits of long-suffering and peaceful nature, and for my daughter—that God would hold her heart in his hands.  I opened my bible, then I heard her tears, and mine own flowed—into my coffee and onto the pages of my bible.  I tried to quiet my sobbing as to not wake the two Littles on my bedroom floor, but as Hannah’s crying continued, I couldn’t control my weeping.  My heart broke for my daughter, and I was glad I didn’t have to be the one to tell her.  A few moments later, Paul exited her room.  He had invited Hannah to go to the vet’s office with him but wasn’t sure if she wanted to go.  In divine manner, God gave me courage to enter to my little girl’s room.  My core was shaky, my hands were sweaty, but in an instant I had the ability to speak without choking on tears.  I held her and reminded her that God was in control and how much I loved her.  I didn’t, I couldn’t, say Happy Birthday to her.  I helped her throw on some  dirty jeans from her bedroom floor, a gray hoody from her most recent church youth weekend trip, and a camo ball cap then I walked with her down the hall to the living room.  When she saw Dixie in her kennel, she immediately stopped, turned around, buried her head in my shoulder, and began weeping again.  We went to the bathroom and tucked a roll of toilet paper into her hoody pocket.  There were little or no words as she and Paul put the leash on Dixie and loaded into the truck.  As they pulled away, I thought I might throw up but my knees were too weak to move my body.   Sobs rang from my soul again as I prayed passionately that God would please hold my daughter’s heart and heal her.

The day ahead is long and weary.  The path we travel is not always easy.  Through this moment of deep grief in my family, I am reminded of how much God loves us; so much that he gave up His ONLY son so that we might have eternal life with him in heaven.  The anguish of giving up your child to a world of pain and suffering for the sake of pure, unconditional, faithful love is the most powerful act imaginable.  Today, as a parent, I experienced the most imeasurable hint of that—it will never compare to the love our Creator has for us. 

I've thanked God continuously all day for his love for us and I pray that all of my friends know His saving grace. 

Happy New Year - Let's Talk About Goals!

2013

I don’t do the resolution thing because I think we should always be setting goals for ourselves, not just at the beginning of the year.  But this is the time of year many of us feel particularly renewed.  We can reflect on the past and learn valuable lessons from it as we set new goals and look forward. 

The last year of my life has probably been the year of the most changes I’ve ever had at one time!  I  married the man God intended for me, we each brought three children to the family and are adding a new one, we settled into a lovely home on 8 acres, I became a stay at home mom and now a homeschooling mom, my husband had a life changing surgery to improve his hearing, and the list goes on.  So many blessings!!!!  So much to look forward to!!!

Here are some of the goals I’m working on achieving over the next few months!  I ask that my friends would pray for me as I pray for you. 

Spiritually

·        * I want to spend time in God’s word daily (even if it is only 10 minutes)

·        * Dedicate a time that gets priority for prayer

·         *Find a spiritual accountability partner (other than my husband)

It’s super hard for me to admit that this is even a struggle for me!  I am a Jr. High Youth Group leader, a Sunday School teacher, and mother of many!  I feel like I’m supposed to just rock in this area!  Truth is for a few months, I’m really good…then I fall off the wagon, and then get back on, etc.  I always notice a difference in my perspective and attitude. 

At Home - Domestic

·        * Contribute to as much savings as humanly possible! (Yes, I have high standards)

o   Monthly grocery goal of $500 for family of 6.5 (I use this # b/c Carrie is only with is sometimes and Paul’s mom has “habits” that I can’t control—like she only drinks Diet Pepsi!) Haha

§  Learn how to coupon (not necessarily the crazy kind—baby steps, for now)

§  Find best meat markets and sales, etc.

o   Make more homemade cleaners and toiletries

·        *Learn how to sew – baby steps again, but for real, I don’t even know how to thread a sewing machine!  I want to start with homemade baby wipes (I mean 4” x 8” squares, I can do this)

One of my “always” goals is to make our home a place my husband hates to leave and loves to come home to and a place where the children feel safe, nurtured, and free to grow naturally within these boundaries of love!

At Home – Education

·         *I am officially a homeschooling momma of an 11, 8, and 5 yr. old!! 

o   We need to establish school routines and household routines

o   I need to learn the balance of flexibility and rigidness required for this endeavor.

o   Determine exactly what curriculum we want to use for next year for each child

This may seem a little broad, and it is.  I’m spending the first few months figuring the new “US” out, as we have never ever spent this much time together for long durations.  We will be focusing on reading, writing, and arithmetic, lots of library trips, and rooting ourselves in some community involvement. 

Personally

·         *Continue to work on physical health

·         *Nurture old and Foster new friendships

I could go on forever and ever because I’m just that kind of person.  I give myself very little grace.  And IF I write it, I MUST hold myself to it.  So I’m keeping my fingers bound up from this point forward on the subject!  Keeping it to this and once we are making some progress, I will add to it! J

Blessings to all!  I love you!

Brain Retrain = Heart Olympics

I haven’t blogged in a couple of weeks and when my husband asked me why I despondently said, “Because I don’t feel like I’ve made any progress.”   My career-oriented mind tells me that it’s all about where I’m going and my success is measured by my progress; and progress should be swift and distinguishable.  In the work world my goal was to constantly advance my department and set it apart with a competitive edge—that’s how I measured success and that’s how my success was evaluated.  In my new world success and progress are on two different planes, they don’t seem to go hand in hand, and they don’t seem to measure my performance and there is no competitive edge I’m claiming stake to.  Retraining my brain has proved itself a worthy opponent.

When I first began blogging about the unpredicted struggles I’ve encountered within the transition from breadwinner to bread maker—my vision for blogging was to illustrate my progress and eventually end up in a place called “success”.   Blogging was an opportunity for me to express my internal struggle, hopefully help someone else along the way, and when I got to success I would have this stay at home wife and mom thing all figured out.  I expected it to be swift and distinguishable—just like in my previous world. 

But this journey to re-identify, give meaning, accept my value, and find my purpose as a stay at home wife and mother has been quite the challenge and the exact opposite of swift and distinguishable.   Many of my friends have encouraged me by saying that over time I will find the natural rhythm of staying home.  I (without foundation) disregarded their  wisdom, and  being the type A personality I am, decided I didn’t want to just wait it out; I wanted to aggressively and forcefully find success as a stay at homer.   In case you’re wondering, the fact I haven’t blogged in a couple of weeks is proof that audaciously seeking it out has not worked how I intended! However, I have noticed some slight and subtle changes lately.

Previously I felt that if I wasn’t advancing, I was losing.  If every day wasn’t gradually getting better than the previous, I was not moving towards success.  In work world if you aren’t advancing, you will be replaced by someone who is—there is no grace.  So in my new world, I imparted no grace to myself and when I couldn’t quantify daily achievement, I gave myself an F for that day.  After months of failing grades, I was wallowing in self pity.  As recent as the last week I have noticed that I am allowing God’s grace to be sufficient and I am grasping the concept that every day is not going to be better than the previous.  Although I haven’t completely abandoned the fallacious mind set from my work world, I am enjoying the freshness of leniency that I’ve recently permitted.  It’s ok and, might I dare say normal, if today isn’t as good as yesterday; if it feels like two steps forward and three steps backwards.  Life in the home world is measured on a different scale than work world—I still don’t know exactly how it is measured, but I know it’s not calculated the same as Corporate America.  Perhaps it’s measured by the small and succinct growth of my children.  I felt incredibly proud of my preschooler this morning when I witnessed him sneeze, pick a tissue from the box off the coffee table, and discard his tissue in the trash—all without a peep from me.  And perhaps my wise friends were right—it will come; the natural rhythm of staying at home will come—and the process of getting there is just as important as the getting there.

Back to Basics - My Purpose Hasn't Changed

My first three and a half months as a stay at home mom have been incredibly thorny.  I’ve recently been challenged to accept that I can bring value in this role and to create a Godly and reasonable  vision of what that looks like.  At the beginning of this journey, my ideas where quite unrealistic and based off untruths (like mom’s who don’t work outside of the home should scrub their kitchen tiles with a toothbrush)—prejudiced ideas founded from the outside looking in.  I quickly failed and sent myself into a spiral of disappointment that landed me straight on the couch in tears—almost daily.  Responding to my challenge, I have spent a lot of quiet time this week trying to create a philosophy for myself as a stay at home mom that included a clear vision with reasonable goals. 

I set out to establish those expectations and goals and God stopped me to remind me not to get too far ahead of myself—He simply reminded me of my purpose.  He revealed to me that my purpose is really the same now as it was when I worked outside of the home; it hasn’t changed.  Serve Him first, serve my family, and then serve my church and community.  Serving God first means that I am to spend time with him in prayer and in His word every day.  I am to be diligent in keeping Satan out of my home (media is a huge opportunity for Satan to enter into our homes—a later blog).  Ultimately every choice I make throughout my day should be made in an effort to bring Him Glory.  By seeking God first, He will give me all the tools I need to serve others.  (Mat 6:33)  Serving my family means that I am to be aware of and selflessly fulfill their unique needs; on a spiritual, physical, and emotional level.  This can get really deep so I’m trying to keep it on the surface and go deeper at a later time as I mature in my new role (BABY STEPS).  All of their needs are different and manifest themselves distinctively.  For now, I need to remember to exemplify a Godly wife and mother to them and do my best to meet their individual emotional needs while I feed them! Lastly, God commands Christians to serve the church and reach out to those that don't know Him.  Serving the church comes in so many forms of ministry: cooking, cleaning, teaching, etc.  Right now Paul and I have the honor of leading our Jr. High students and what a blast it is! But I should remember not to grow weary or complacent in my service and to faithfully share the good news with everyone I can—including the grocery store clerk.

So that’s my philosophy:  Love God and Others!  It sounds so simple—we humans always have to make things so complicated!  Oh but now onto a vision with reasonable goals—there I go making things complicated…

A vision—a vision that does not include unreasonable demands on myself as a child of God or as a wife and mother, a vision that doesn’t include scrubbing with toothbrushes or wearing high heels in the kitchen—but a vision that is Godly and serves my family well.   After all, the decision for me to stay at home was not so I could sit on the couch and cry, it was to serve my family in a way that brings glory to God and fruitfulness to them. 

Serve God and he will add all the rest unto me.  Hopefully sometime this week I will have the opportunity to share with you how my vision is revealing itself.  God is imparting this to me in small baby bites!  Although it is still hazy, I am excited that I finally have a glimpse of an intentional purpose. 

His Grace is Sufficient for Me

His Grace is Sufficient for Me

Since the end of July, I’ve been doing a lot of sitting on the couch, aimless house wandering (that occasionally produces a fruitful work), and waiting—waiting for this “natural rhythm”—that everyone promises me will come—when transition from career to domestic engineer.  It hasn’t worked for over three months now—time for a new tactic.  Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results?  Some days I already feel like I’m on the verge of instability so I’m shooting for a little more proactive approach; I don’t have much to lose (except my worn-in spot on the couch).  My objective for this upcoming week was to spend some quiet time realizing some reasonable priorities, expectations, and setting goals for myself as a stay at home mom.  By the way, I tried a schedule and it failed miserably—my husband gently encouraged me not to make a schedule and has kindly declined to remind me that he “told me so”.  (Every chance I get, I like to praise him—he has hands full with my tenacity).

As I began to dig deep down picking and prying myself for reasonable priorities and expectations in order to set practical goals that met the job description of Stay At Home Mom, I hit a brick wall.  I recognized that I am struggling to find value in myself as a SAHM.  While I could tell you all of the worth that being a full-time wife and mother can present to a family, I couldn’t tell you how I could bring that meaningfulness to my family. What I have learned to value about myself, up until this point, has centered on my independence, responsibility, determination, intelligence, leadership, strength, accomplishments, and professional success.  All of these qualities are challenged as a stay at home mother. 

When I married the gift God gave me in Paul, I was quickly spun into a foreign world; a world where the husband is the leader of the home and many of my valued qualities were mildly challenged.  But I welcomed the change; I was tired and ready for help carrying the load. Having someone to take out the stinky trash is awesome, but having someone that won’t even let me take it out if I tried totally rocks!  Three months later when we decided for me to stay at home, I blithely considered that I might struggle with the change of environment, but I certainly didn’t anticipate the overwhelming feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, and guilt associated with the change of environment and  new identity.

By acknowledging this inner crusade, I feel like I have brought myself to a crossroad trying to determine which road to take—desperately wanting to make the choice that honors God and brings me to my fullest potential as a wife, a mother, and a witness to others.   One path is where I chose not acknowledge these struggles and feelings and just continue on as I am—my growth paralyzed by Satan’s weapon s of inadequacy, insecurity, and guilt.  After all, no one seems to be bothered half as much by my internal struggles as I am.  Everyone seems quite content with daily life as it is and can’t point out my failings.  My husband is always pointing out the positive (he’s a positive patty) and would lead me, and anyone that listens to him, to believe that I do a great job at home.  The other path is to allow God’s grace to be sufficient enough; know His Holy word tells me His grace is sufficient for me and His power is made perfect in my weakness. (2 Cor 12:9)  This path tells me to trust in my Creator and let him grow me through this change.

The path of trusting Him and believing His truth reminds me that the qualities that were written on the core of me that I valued so highly were given to me by God himself.  They were either qualities that God intended on me needing and keeping for a lifetime or gifts that He gave me to last only for a time that He called for.  The blessings that He gave me through Paul and the opportunity to stay at home have indeed removed a set of those qualities from me but God didn’t intend for me to be leader of my home; not spiritually, physically, nor financially.  (Like I said before, taking out trash stinks and not opening doors for myself suits me well).  The traits God wrote on my heart that He intended for a lifetime are still with me—they just look different and they manifest themselves in new ways.  I’m stumbling and clumsily learning to uncover exactly what those traits look like in my new job as a stay at home mom, but I can effortlessly tell you what they don’t look like!  Those traits no longer manifest themselves through weekly business meetings, or a closet clad with black and gray business clothes, or 5:30am alarm clocks (that’s a perk)!

 By allowing God’s grace to wash over me I am allowing Him to open my eyes to me how He wants to use me in our home—as a wife and mother and witness and I am rejecting Satan’s weapons and lies.  Where Satan wants to trap us by exploiting our weaknesses, God wants to perfect us.  My prayer as I enter the new week and create goals that serve my family, is to reject Satan’s lies and welcome God’s grace and  to know that every character gift I have was given to me by God—for his purpose!