Conclusion: The Birth and Why I Jumped Ship on Home Birth

I have to admit, I've been avoiding this place the past couple days. The story was easy to tell. There's something about a story that makes it easy to separate yourself from and feel like a reporter instead. I love simply restating the events in order to remember how it all went down later.

But in the quiet moments that have happened since arriving home: when the baby is asleep, the kids are all down, and my husband is snoring next to me, then I have sat staring at my baby's perfect tiny face and my thoughts have surfaced. I cheated.

I can hear the collective moan across cyber space and I can imagine the comments now. No one wants to hear they cheated. Imagine telling a woman with hyperemesis that she "cheated" to take medication to control her vomiting. Imagine telling a woman who has her baby at home that it's cheating to give birth in the water. Imagine telling a man plowing the field that it's cheating to use modern farm equipment or that it's cheating to ride to work in a vehicle. Cheating the curse.

I cheated the curse.

But....what curse?

"For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, “Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and do them.” Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for “The righteous shall live by faith.” But the law is not of faith, rather “The one who does them shall live by them.” Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree”—so that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith." (Galatians 3:10-14 ESV)

Cursed be anyone who relies on the works of the law! Shall I bear my own curse? Shall I convince myself that if I birth alone in pain at home that my birth is somehow more pious and more worthy than a woman who has every pain medication the world can provide? Lord have mercy on those of us who are so trapped in the works of the law in our own mind. 

"Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us."!!! Christ has come, Christ has risen! Christ will come again!

I have to admit, I have walked around the past two weeks so free from post birth emotional trauma that I have actually FORGOTTEN that I gave birth and caught myself still mentally coaching myself on my upcoming birth! Several times in the past two weeks I have gone to take a hot bath to relieve some of the post birth aches and while relaxing deeply in the tub have begun to think on my upcoming birth! I have to laugh each time, out loud, that I could actually forget I have given birth. But I have been trying so very hard to prepare for the birth knowing I was going to have to get through a natural childbirth at home again that it's hard to just turn that off. My birth supplies are still here, untouched. It's weird! So, we finally packed them up and put them in the basement to await the future. 

So, will I ever go back?

I am so glad I do not have to answer that today. With my fourth child I was determined from about the half way point of pregnancy to rock childbirth. I needed it. I craved it. I was like a running addict looking at my next marathon. And one that was not only determined to run, but to win. Maybe that will happen again and I'll be crazy enough to have another home birth. (smile and wink) And I have to admit, the one regret I have is that my children were not with me. The only two home births I have had (my other two were born out of hospital but in other locations than my home) were my first and my third which ended with a near death experience for me and a hospital stay. So, nostalgically, I ached for a "beautiful" home birth in which my kids could gather around me to see their sibling born and we could all revel in the peace and warmth of our home afterwards. 

I shared this with my eldest son when I returned home from the hospital. He is the one we label as being gifted in the area of "human care and compassion". Extremely gifted. So I shared this with him and he gave me a half smile that was also mixed with a measure of little boy grossed-outedness, and he said, "Um, that's OK mom, I didn't really want to hear you yell anyways." I had to laugh out loud. And he's right. For all that mama tries to romanticize it, birth is loud, it's messy, and mama doesn't really want her other kids around her once the baby is out anyways. At least not for more than 5 minutes. 

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if the Lord will bless us with anymore children or if He does, if they will be children that are given to live here or not. I am thankful that this birth resulted in an amazing relationship with my family practice Dr., who aided me in delivering my son, and that she is here to guide me and help me as we navigate what happened at the end of this pregnancy and how that could affect me and any pregnancy in the future. We don't know if the platelet thing is something I have always had, since I never had those drawn in any previous pregnancies, and if it might explain my bleeding troubles. We also don't know if it's something that will get worse with each pregnancy and if it's something that my levels will get lower faster each time. These are things we will know in time and they will help us make wise decisions. 

I do know that I have never felt so at peace post birth, that I have never felt quite this calm and happy. I have jokingly called the epidural I received my "Gospel epidural". 

And I think that's what it all boils down to...why are you making the choice you are making? Is it because it's really what works for you, what you like, and what is best for you or is it because it is earning you righteousness in your own made up laws? When it becomes a matter of pride, something you feel you HAVE to do, are we not joining the ranks of the pharisees? 

I had a hospital birth. I got an epidural. I had a catheter, IV antibiotics, continuous fetal monitoring, tons and tons of IV fluids, and I don't think I have ever laughed so much during labor ever. And that reminds me of one of the most beautiful quotes I have heard in a long time: 

“Whenever the devil harasses you, seek the company of men or drink more, or joke and talk nonsense, or do some other merry thing. Sometimes we must drink more, sport, recreate ourselves, and even sin a little to spite the devil, so that we leave him no place for troubling our consciences with trifles. We are conquered if we try too conscientiously not to sin at all. So when the devil says to you: do not drink, answer him: I will drink, and right freely, just because you tell me not to.”
― Martin Luther

We must cling to law where law really exists, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength and love your neighbor as yourself." Though the Christian knows that this law really turns back around to Christ who is the One responsible for granting us the faith with which to accomplish this! And so when we feel burdened, harassed, and weighed down beyond our strength and ability, well, it's time for an epidural. God be praised. 

Part V: The Birth and Why I Jumped Ship on Home Birth

Since I had already been having contractions on and off for five days, it took quite some time for me to notice a difference with pitocin. I kept wondering what the big fuss was about with the drug. My nurse continued to refill my cranberry Sierra Mist and my husband and I visited with my midwife. For a couple hours not much happened. The nurse had been instructed by my Dr. to continue to turn the pitocin up every half hour until contractions were less than five minutes apart. She must have come in four times or so before that goal was met. Finally the contractions got serious and I was no longer comfortable in bed. I got up to use the restroom and then asked for a ball to sit on. For awhile I sat on the ball and leaned forward on the bed during contractions. Then that too became too painful and I began standing during contractions. I would sit on the ball and as one began and then rise up and lean on my two hands on the bed. I let my head drop and swayed my hips back and forth while it peaked. Then I would drop back down as it finished. I did this for about two hours and some time during that period my midwife left and got lunch for herself and my husband.

Six hours after the pitocin had been started and about two hours after it got serious I requested to be checked. I was getting tired, contractions were two and a half minutes apart, and based on the pain I figured I was about 7-8 cm. I knew I needed to get the epidural soon if I was going to because otherwise it would be too late. Unfortunately I was off. After 6 hours on pit, starting at 3-4 cm, I was only 5 cm dilated. I was very crushed at that point and just felt exhausted and defeated. Part of me toyed with the idea of saying, forget this, I'm going home. Yet I knew the continuous pattern of labor was here to stay and I would only continue to get more and more tired so I told the nurse to call for the anesthesiologist. She said that once the epidural was in place they could break my water and then I would progress quickly.

I sat on the edge of the bed and the nurse explained the whole epidural process to me. It sounded straight forward and simple enough so she paged him and we waited. As we waited contractions continued with the same intensity and I began to get frustrated it was taking so long because sitting through them on the edge of the bed was not comfortable at all. We waited, and waited, and waited. Finally I began to panic. What if he had changed his mind? What if he had a heart attack somewhere and there was no anesthesiologist? I tried to tell myself surely since I made it this far I could do it if I had to but this only sent waves of panic through me. Finally the nurse began to worry. She told me some people at the hospital were known for taking forever or being hard to reach but not this man, he was always very easy to reach and very prompt. I worried. Then the nurse decided to have someone call his office instead of paging him. Five minutes later, after about 45 minutes of waiting on the edge of the bed, he came in. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and he apologized profusely explaining that somehow his pager had turned off. "I'm so glad you called because otherwise I never would have known my pager was off!"

The anesthesiologist once again gave me instructions and then he numbed my back. He warned me it would feel "like at tiger bite" but I chuckled at his description when it felt like nothing more than a little sting. Then he administered the epidural. The strangest part was feeling the tube go into the spinal cavity and curl around before the drug was sent through. It was a very bizarre feeling and I was amazed at how much I could feel. Finally he put the drug in and I waited for it to take effect as a contraction started. I braced myself and began to breathe through it and half way through it fizzled away to nothing, except it was still going. I laughed. Then I realized I could not only still feel my legs but I could move them, kick them, and I was sure I could walk except I was sure they wouldn't let me try. I said, "Wow, I can move my legs!" He said, "You can?" I showed him and he said, "That's great! Everyone responds differently and we never know how it will be." I waited for another contraction to start just to be sure it had worked and sure enough as one started I felt nothing until the end when I felt intense pressure and stretching of my cervix dilating some more. I laughed again, thanked him profusely, and then laid down. Suddenly I was very tired and cold. My Dr. came in and I looked at her with a huge grin. She laughed and made some joke about the happiness that comes with an epidural and then checked me. Still 5. She asked if she could break my water and I agreed. Let's get this show on the road! She did and the only thing I felt was the hot water come out. She announced the fluid was clear and then her voice got intense as she announced I was dilating, "5...6!..7!...8!" In a matter of about 5 seconds I dilated to 8. Now THAT was progress! I was even more glad I had not had to feel that. After that I got cold and was shaking some. They covered me in heated blankets, brought me some hot black tea to drink, and my Dr. instructed me to call when I felt pressure. She explained that when the head began to descend they would turn off my epidural. I, however, did not know that it takes time for the epidural to wear off. I thought, "There is no way in hell I am letting them turn off the epidural for the WORST part!" I decided right then and there to not tell when I felt the head descending.

For the next hour and a half I dipped in and out of sleep while drinking hot tea. It was heavenly. I just rested and thought of my baby. My husband and midwife continued talking and a few times they thought I was asleep and would start talking about me and I would open my eyes and correct them or argue with them which they thought was funny. Then, quite suddenly, I felt a change. As always, two contractions in a row I felt such intense pressure it was hard to not moan through them. Instead I rolled away from my company with my back to them so I could quietly breathe through them without alerting anyone that I was nearing completion. After those two contractions a third began right away and with it I felt the head begin to descend. I was so amazed at the feeling of it that it was hard to not laugh out loud. It hurt, it was very intense, but I could actually hide the fact that I was pushing out a baby's head!!! Just as the first contraction ended my husband appeared on my side of the bed and said, "Melrose? Melrose, what's going on?" I didn't respond as another contraction began and tried to just pretend that I was sleeping. Instead he looked to my midwife and said, "Something's different, I think she's pushing." Or, at least I think that's what he said but I know there was chatter between the two of them before they called for my Dr. At this point I realized they were on to me so I got serious and began pushing. I was so afraid they would turn off my epidural! This is hilarious to me now. I pushed and pushed and then my Dr. came in and, knowing I was far enough along, I opened one eye and said, "he's coming". The Dr. lifted the blanket and shrieked and then there was a wave of activity as nurses came into the room and everyone gowned up. My Dr. said, "Melrose! Your baby is RIGHT THERE! Here! Feel him!" She took my hand and put it there and I put my fingers in to feel his head. He really was right there! She tried to keep her hands there with me but I yelled at her to get them away as the extra pressure hurt. Another contraction began and I kept my hand there. Oh it was SO COOL to feel his head inch forward bit by bit as I pushed and then suddenly as the contraction ended he would slip back just the tiniest bit. Normally I fire my babies out so fast there is no chance for them to slip back so it was really cool to feel this and to know the epidural was allowing me to slowly push my baby out so that I didn't tear.

Finally about the fifth contraction since I felt his head begin descending, he crowned. I screamed at them to get my baby out already (though my husband says I'm exaggerating and that I was actually very calm and making "good birth noises" but in my head I was screaming). It took about two contractions to get through crowning to head out and then the little stinker decided to have one of his hands up by his head which made it very hard for his body to turn and come out. A contraction later his body finally came out in a rush and with my Dr.'s help I pulled him up to my chest. I laughed and cried and felt that insane rush of relief and love all around  and then I pulled his leg up and saw my son. My husband and I laughed and cried that it was another boy and I cooed his name in his ear as I kissed him all over. My Dr. then gave me a hard time for cutting it so close and I explained that I didn't want her to turn off my epidural when I was pushing. She laughed incredulously and asked if I knew it takes time for the epidural to wear off. "It does?! oops."

For the next two hours we reveled, I nursed, I kissed his fingers, and one of my friends showed up just minutes after the birth having just missed it and she and my midwife went out to get us a celebratory dinner of Qdoba. I can tell you a burrito has never tasted so good. We visited and admired him and finally my friend and midwife left and a nurse asked if she could weigh the baby right next to me and measure him. I took that opportunity to use the restroom and then asked if I could shower. I showered for a long time and then took my baby and we were off to my recovery room.

The rest of our hospital stay was uneventful and the next evening we were on our way home.

Coming up: Conclusion and will I ever home birth again?

Part IV: The Birth and Why I Jumped Ship on Homebirth

From somewhere deep in my dreams I felt a stabbing that sent me fighting to the surface as I gasped for breath. My eyes shot open. I tried to figure out where I was and I wrapped my hands under my belly and forced breath down as I got through the contraction. I knew too much time had not passed because it was still light outside. I looked at the clock, it had only been an hour and a half. "Lord, have mercy." I prayed. I knew I was supposed to have slept 4-6 hours on the sleep aid. "Well, that worked well." I rolled my eyes to myself and put my bed into the sitting up position.

The nurses must have noticed a change in my contraction monitor because one came in, followed by my husband. "I'm so glad you're back." I said to him. I meant it. Never am I more aware of the depth of my love for my husband than when I'm in labor. "You're awake already, huh?" he asked. "Contractions." I said, gesturing to the monitor. We turned some lights on and my husband put the bag down of the belongings he brought. While the nurse checked my vitals and looked at the contraction print out he told me about the kids' day at home. The boys were all doing well, though they missed me a lot, and couldn't wait to meet the baby. He had made them dinner and visited with them before leaving them in the care of their uncle. For the next several hours we relaxed as best we could. We watched TV, ordered and ate dinner (though for some reason this is the one meal I have no idea what I ate), and just tried to enjoy each other's company. Finally the hours passed and it was time for bed. I was offered more sleep aid but since that went so well the first time I decided to pass. We turned out the lights and drifted off.

An hour and a half later I again was awoken to a stabbing contraction. I realized I also had to use the restroom, which didn't help the contraction feel any better, and so when it passed I quickly got up before another one hit. When I got back I tried to sleep but every time I would start to doze off another one would hit. These ones possessed the same crampy feel to them I had in the early morning when I first got to the hospital. I had to take a deep breath as one started and breathe it down into my belly to keep from needing to moan through them and disturb my husband's sleep. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and called for the nurse. When she arrived I told her my contractions were really picking back up and hurting a lot. I'm not sure what I was hoping for but at this point I had been "in labor" for so long without it meaning a baby was coming soon that I wasn't sure what to do with myself since sleep wasn't an option. She told me she would put me back on the monitor so we could watch them. Fantastic. Now I would get to be a watched pot but still alone in bed. For the next four hours that was what happened. I laid there in the dark with my sleeping husband next to me while I tried to breathe through the contractions. I was too tired to get up and pace or move which would have lessened the pain so instead I just laid there and sometimes cried through them. I sang in my head "Lord Thee I Love With All My Heart", "God's Own Child I Gladly Say It", and "Abide With Me" to keep my mind off the pain and keep me from getting scared. Finally, around 4 in the morning, the contractions began to ease off. Again. I called the nurse and asked her to remove the monitor so I could sleep. I crashed hard and fast into a very deep sleep. Two hours later my husband and I were very rudely awakened to a nurse turning every light on and shouting out, "GOOD MORNING! WAKE UP! I'M HERE TO DRAW YOUR BLOOD!" My husband and I exchanged our frustrated and angry looks and two minutes later she was done but we were left wide awake. "Maybe I'll get to sleep in heaven." I thought.  Next my Dr. came in. She asked how the night was and I told her and she explained to me that since my fever had stayed down as long as my blood work did not show any significant drop in platelets they would send me home. My mouth dropped open and I said, "Look, I understand why you would send me home. I know I'm not even 38 weeks yet. But I can tell you what is going to happen if I go home. I'm going to start having contractions again in about an hour or so, I'm going to have them off and on all day, and then tonight they will start up again. I won't be able to sleep, AGAIN, and I'll continue to get more exhausted and maybe get sick again. My in laws will go home and we will once again have to find a church member to come keep our kids in the middle of the night. I am begging you to not send me home." She rubbed my leg and said "I know, honey, but we have to think of the baby too, but I promise to take everything into consideration when your labs come back." I didn't say that I WAS thinking of the baby and that I had been so terrified during my fever that the baby would die. Instead I just sighed. She left to wait for my labs and I went to use the restroom. While I did I happened to look down and see that lovely view of the plug disengaging. For a moment my excitement was sparked and I called to my husband that I was losing my plug. "Really?!" he asked. But we both knew that didn't necessarily mean anything would happen that day.

I got back in bed and before I could get situated my Dr. came cruising back in the room with a big smile on her face. "Well, this will excite you! I have bad news, your platelets dropped a lot more, we're moving you to labor and delivery! You're going to have a baby today!" "What?!" I demanded excitedly, "really?!" I was so excited I couldn't hide my huge smile despite the apparent bad news. "How much did they drop?" "They're 76,000. They were 84,000 yesterday." My heart sank. They anesthesiologist the day before that had refused my epidural said the cut off was technically 80,000 (though he had been unwilling because at the time they thought I also had preeclampsia). This meant I was now actually below the cut off. Panicked I looked at my Dr. "Oh no, 76? Oh no, that means I won't be able to have an epidural! Isn't that below the cut off?" She rubbed my leg again and said, "Honey, don't worry about that, you're going to be fine, you've done this 4 times already without drugs, we have narcotics we can give you to take the edge off but you will be fine." I swear if I had to hear one more person throw in my face that I had done this four times already without drugs I was going to scream or punch someone. No, I had NOT done THIS before because I had never had almost a week of ongoing labor leading up to the real thing while also having the flu. And just because I had done it four times before didn't mean I had any strength to do it again. I thought of saying that just because a man gets struck twice by lightening doesn't mean he'd survive the third time but instead I just cried. She left and told me to eat some breakfast and once I was done she would transfer me to labor and delivery. I ordered french toast and an omelet for my husband but could hardly eat. I just wanted to cry and sleep. I was so excited we were having the baby but now the excitement was overcome with terror as I tried to imagine surviving transition and the hour or so before it. Every time I thought of it I would start crying again. Finally we rang for the dr. and then we were on our way to our new room. I don't remember how I got there, if I walked or if they pushed my bed, I think I walked, but this room was shaped like a lower case "h"the inside of the hump of the 'h" was a restroom and the two legs of the "h" were the hallway leading to the restroom and the other wing was a birth tub. I looked at the tub with disdain. If I had to get in the tub that meant I didn't have an epidural. I shuddered thinking of the contractions I would have in that tub which brought another wave of sobbing. What on earth was wrong with me?! My husband and I tried to figure this out when a nurse from the day before, the one I actually liked, came in. I was so glad to see her and I cried and cried to her about the epidural. She tried to comfort me and I began praying in my head as fervently as I could muster. I KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Lord was with me, that I was where I was supposed to be, and that He would not bring me this far to leave me unable to get through. I didn't know how He was going to provide, whether He would just mysteriously take the pain of labor away, whether the narcotics would help that much, or whether the epidural would somehow come through, but I knew I was not going to be left alone. We had come too far through too much. I continued begging and begging and praying while also crying to the nurse when suddenly the door opened. In walked David Letterman. Or at least his identical twin. In an anesthesiologist uniform. I stared at him and he looked at me with a huge smile and compassion and bellowed, "What's wrong little girl?!" He said this not with disrespect but as a grandfather would say to his beloved granddaughter. I just stared at him thinking if he came to lecture me on why I couldn't have an epidural I would surely have to beg for a c-section. Instead my nurse answered and said, "She's afraid you're not going to give her an epidural." He smiled at her and then at me and said, "That's why I'm in  here. I just got on shift and saw your name on the board and heard you story and what that other anesthesiologist said and I have no idea why he said that because your platelets are low but it sounds like they still work!" He proceeded to ask me questions like, "Do you have nosebleeds? Do your gums bleed? Have you had any bleeding while here?" Etc which I was able to answer with "no"s and then he smiled again and said, "Well honey, don't you worry, I'm not going to leave you with nothing, you can have that epidural if you want and you just let me know when you're ready for it!" "What? Really? Are you serious? Oh! You are my new best friend!" I laughed out loud, asked him a few more times just to be sure, and then laughed some more. Oh there are not many times in my life I have felt so relieved.

As my husband says, from then on I was a different person. Suddenly I had energy I didn't have before, I was happy and excited, and I couldn't wait for the pitocin to be started. I was meeting my BABY today! We called family and let friends know on Facebook and my nurse brought me a mixture of Sierra Mist and cranberry juice to celebrate. My midwife came to join us and we all conversed excitedly and prepared for the day ahead. I was still only 3-4 cm but my Dr. assured me the pitocin would probably work fast and then we could break my water and have a baby. My GBS test came back positive so unfortunately we had to do two doses of penicillin and that burned like crazy going in my arm but then the pitocin got hooked up and I waited for it to take affect.

Part III: The Birth and Why I Jumped Ship on Home Birth

As I was pushed through the hallway I thought back to all the episodes of "A Baby Story" that I watched on TV when I was pregnant with  my first and second babies. I remember laughing pridefully at the chain reaction of interventions and shaking my head at all these "clueless" women as I prepared for my own unmedicated, non-intervention home births. I would scoff as they first agreed to an induction which then paved its way for an epidural when the unnatural pitocin contractions got too hard, which then led to failure to progress, which then led to either vacuum extraction, forceps, or even "worse": c-section. Those poor, uneducated women.

I blinked away the lights and the headache that pounded in my head as I struggled to come to terms with what was happening. But really, at this point, I was so tired and my body hurt so bad that I tried to remember all the reasons why a c-section was bad. Honestly the idea of falling asleep and waking up to a baby (which I know is not the usual way a c-section is performed) sounded fantastic. I decided to tell my doctor this when she arrived.

The nurses wheeled me into my second room of the day. It was small, L shaped, and the short part of the L was a little wing that held an empty hospital baby warmer for weighing and measuring the baby. "This is where you will meet your baby!" A nurse happily chirped. I looked at the crib and tried to feel something but a baby felt so far away. All I could feel was sick. I wondered for the millionth time that day if I was in the right place. If that headache would just go away I could think clearly. I knew I should be panicking and running from that place and hide in my own room until I felt better and could have the birth this baby deserved, at home. But when I tried to remember why this was so important I couldn't. All I wanted was to be taken care of and to sleep.

Nurses bustled about telling me about pitocin, narcotics I could receive through my IV to help with the pain, and how long it would probably take. The nurses left and I looked at my husband trying to figure out what was happening. Then, suddenly, my doctor came rushing in and sat on my bed. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" I said. "They're telling me I have preeclampisa but that doesn't make sense!" I lamented. She rolled her eyes and in a rush said, "You DO NOT have preeclampsia! The resident made that call without me, I don't know where everyone is getting this from. You had some protein in your urine and you blood pressure was high when you first arrived but that has gone way down now. I talked to Dr. so-and-so (my OB I worked with during all my miscarriages) and she agreed you do not have preeclampsia so we are going to keep you for 24 hours, collect your urine during that time to make certain we are correct, and give you a sleep aid to make you rest. Rest is what you really need right now. Then, tomorrow, we will see where we're at. OK?" I just stared blankly at her.  "Wait, so we're not going to induce?" Suddenly I was very tired. "No, honey, you're not even 38 weeks yet." "I know, I responded, "but I have been having contractions that have taken my ability to sleep for the past five days. And now I'm sick and exhausted. I don't want this to continue. I want to go to sleep and wake up with a baby." She laughed and then studied me. Just a few weeks prior I had been to her office to submit to a platelet count and been very stubborn about refusing a GBS test, ultrasound, and any other things she tried to suggest for before delivery. She questioned my home birth decision after my previous births and I rolled my eyes and argued why home birth was still the best option. Now, here I was, pathetically begging for a c-section. I sighed as I felt the weight of sleep on my eyes and said, "I don't think I'll need that sleep aid." She smiled and said,"we're going to get you to a different room, you can order lunch, then you can decide if you want the sleep aid and then rest."

This time they let me ride in a wheel chair to the next room. This room was much smaller but cozy and quiet. The room looked over a courtyard and if you looked far to the right you could see the lake. I went to the restroom and snorted at the cooler that held the large jug for collecting all my urine. Nurses, they really have a fun job. For lunch I ordered a pepperoni pizza, some chocolate pudding, and an apple. Comfort food. I barely touched the pizza and gave the rest to my husband but I devoured the chocolate pudding. The apple was disgusting. Finally the Dr. came back in and my husband pushed me to get the sleep aid. I agreed hesitantly thinking this was the first drug/intervention that was actually happening and it sent that first wave of panic as I wondered how many others there would be.

She left to give the order to the nurse and told me she would be back to check on me the next day. It was getting close to evening and my husband and I agreed he should go home, check in on the kids and fix dinner as our church member babysitter left and the kids' uncle took over until Grandma and Grandpa could arrive. I felt good knowing he would give the kids some normalcy and comfort about what was going on. He was also going to pick up things like our toothbrushes, my hair brush, changes of clothes, etc. The nurse came in and gave me my sleep pill and then my husband said goodbye. I played on my phone until I started feeling sleepy then rolled over and tried to think through some sort of plan on hospital vs. home birth before my thoughts became confused and I slipped off to sleep.

Part II: The Birth and Why I Jumped Ship on Home Birth.

By this time my contractions were about 3 minutes apart. The awful bumpy city roads made them get closer and closer together and I began to have to moan through them. I asked every minute how much longer and began to be afraid I was going to deliver in the car, right in the middle of rush hour traffic.

When we got to the hospital my husband parked on the wrong floor. We didn't realize it until we were at the door. We had to go back to the car, which I fussed and whined about, drive up another floor, then get out. I was trying not to panic as I tried to get through each contraction. I was repeating phrases to comfort myself like "OK, OK, OK, OK" and "Lord help, Lord Help, Lord Help" etc. Finally, we checked in, were called back to a room, and I was hooked up to a machine. It was crazy watching the contractions fill up the monitor with their tall peaks. I begged right then and there for an epidural but they said they wanted to give me fluids first because I was severely dehydrated. This made no sense to me since in the hours before I came I had drank 64 oz of water and gatorade, but, 3 liters of fluid later I was feeling a lot better and contractions were spacing out. Finally, I could get through the contractions without panicking and I began to think maybe I would get sent home. My mood improved and I sipped on Sierra Mist. Contractions spaced out to about 20 minutes apart. After about an hour at this spacing suddenly they began picking back up. 7 minutes apart, 6 minutes apart, 4 minutes apart, then the resident on duty came in and explained to me that since contractions were spacing out they were going to send me home. I said, "Ummm?" while gesturing to the monitor. She looked at it and said, "Well, they have been spaced out so I think you probably haven't made any progress." I said, "I really think you should check me. This has been my pattern for five days now. I have awful contractions, then they space out, then they pick back up again. If you send me home this will only continue." My fear was I was going to get home, have contractions all day off and on again, get further exhausted, and then my fever would spike again in the middle of the night. We had already had to call a church member in a panic to watch the kids, I didn't want to have to do that again.

The resident finally, and grudgingly, agreed to check me. As she did her face registered surprise and she said, "Oh, well, this throws a wrinkle in our plans, looks like your about 3-4 cm." She left to call my doctor and I breathed a sigh of relief that, for now, I was staying. Unfortunately, my relief did not last long. The next couple hours were a whirlwind of confusion and wrong diagnosis. First a nurse and then the resident came flying into my room saying some of my labs came back and "your baby is making you sick". As I sat there trying to make sense of what they were saying the resident came in and told me I had preeclampsia. I was getting a little irritated that I still was not seeing my doctor and was having a very hard time believing anything the resident was saying. But she insisted it was an emergency and that I needed to be delivered immediately. I got scared and insisted that after being up all night with such an awful fever and body aches that I did NOT have the energy to get through labor and if they were going to induce me I wanted an epidural. She left and an anesthesiologist came in. What he said next made my next 24 hrs of hospital stay just awful. He lectured my husband and me, as if I was asking to jump off a bridge, on what a terrible idea the epidural was, that "in your condition" it was an awful risk. He said due to my low platelets that one slip could cause a terrible spinal hemorrhage which could leave me paralyzed. I sat with my mouth gaping and I began crying and said, "Sir, you don't understand, I have been in labor off and on for five days. I haven't slept, now I've been up with this fever and body aches, I DO NOT have the strength to do this. I have done this four times at home, I know what labor is like, I am begging you to help me." He said, "I'm sorry but I'm the anesthesiologist and I refuse to do this, I can ask my colleagues but I know they will all agree with me." And then he left. Minutes later the resident and nurse came back, grabbed my bed, and we were off to labor and delivery.

Part I of The Birth: And why I jumped ship on home birth

Genesis' (screen name) birth story really begins all the way back the day I found out I was pregnant. I was about 6 weeks off of my 5th miscarriage in a year and had begun to consider that, perhaps, our family was complete. I was even beginning to feel content with my four boys, feel pride in our little family, and had no desire to ever ever go through a miscarriage again. My heart was broken.

The day I found out I was pregnant I was a hot mess. I spent hours on the phone with a sister in Christ, who has a much heavier cross to bear than I of barrenness, and I sobbed to her that I was certain I was losing the baby. My womb literally felt cold down inside of me. I had been feeling that cold for many pregnancies, perhaps it had something to do with lack of good blood flow, I don't know, but I immediately began putting hot packs just under the band of my pants and skirts. It felt better at least.

I share all of this because fear was a very prominent emotion for the whole of Genesis' pregnancy. I know that for the Christian fear is not an emotion to be proud of, and, I could be lectured on faith and trust. I'm OK with that, I know I was weak and I confessed it every day as the sin it was, but I also know that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. And I know that His power is made perfect in weakness. So, I wore my heart on my sleeve and cried often, worried a lot, and prayed the Psalms for comfort.

The first sign of a hiccup came after I had my prenatal blood work done at around 15 weeks. My OB called me the next morning to tell me my platelets were low. A typical platelet range is 150K-400K. Mine was 139K. She warned that this could become a problem if mine continue to drop, as is common in pregnancy, that I started out so low. She explained that without platelets we can't clot and anything below 50K is critical. I brushed her off thinking myself way too high to ever get near that 50K.

Fast forward 4 months and I was six weeks away from my due date. I had begun to accept that there was a baby in my belly and that there might even be a baptism at the end of the tunnel. This baby might actually make it! I still cried some when I thought of labor. I've attended a funeral for a full term baby that died accidentally and tragically in the womb and it will forever haunt me as I approach my due date. Then my midwife suggested that I go get my platelets drawn one more time just to be on the safe side and know what we were dealing with approaching labor. I wasn't thrilled with the idea but I decided to submit and went. The news was not good. My platelets had dropped to 109K. Obviously this was a huge drop and yet, the drop occurred over a 4 month span, surely we were still OK, still very far from the critical zone. So, I continued on with my plans of birthing with my midwife.

But then 36 weeks hit. And with it came panic and fear like I have never known. I do not know what came over me, I have never been terrified of birth. Even after nearly dying in childbirth, the following pregnancy I was not only not afraid but instead was filled with this stubborn intensity to prove that I could overcome what I had been through and have a beautiful birth. And I did with my 4th. So why, now, was I so so unbelievably terrified? I was texting my husband multiple times a day "I'm scared" "I'm so scared" "I don't want to do this" and so on. He, too, was confused and baffled by my fear. I called my midwife one afternoon and insisted she come over so I could panic to her and cry. The closer I got to my due date the more I became absolutely certain there was no way I could go through childbirth. I began praying that if the Lord would not take away my fear that He would provide a way out for me. I wondered secretly if my fear was actually given by the Lord because it was His will for me to birth in the hospital. I begged Him to give me wisdom and I pondered on Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane hoping that though I was completely overcome with my fate of childbirth that the Lord who suffered so much more would get me through.

The weekend I turned 37 weeks was an absolutely gorgeous weekend. The temperature was around 60, it was sunny and breezy and we had a really relaxing weekend. I took walks and felt the stress begin to melt away. Maybe, just maybe, I really could do this. Sure enough on Friday I began having show and then that evening had a couple hours of early contractions. During the night I woke up countless times to use the restroom as the baby's head engaged and pushed on my bladder and early contractions continued. Saturday the show continued and I had more contractions. As I took a long walk outdoors I prayed, talked to my baby (the first time I had done that the entire pregnancy), and reveled in the sunshine. Finally I asked my baby to come out and join us on this beautiful day. I felt at peace, happy, ready. All through the night I was awakened again with contractions and the need to use the restroom. Sunday came and went and with it lots of contractions that began to intensify. Finally, Sunday evening, I texted one of my best friends and her sister to come, I knew the time was very close. But as soon as they got in the car to come the contractions stopped. Monday morning we woke up and my mood had turned back overnight. I was extremely grouchy, couldn't stop crying about how scared I was, and was very very irritated with my children. I talked through my emotions with my friends, tried to talk through them with my midwife more over the phone, and then that night sobbed them out to my husband. After that I felt a lot better and fell asleep feeling a little more at peace.

In the middle of the night I woke up with the chills. Chills are often a sign of labor so I got up to use the restroom when I realized I had a headache. This can also be a sign of early labor but I took my temperature to be sure. 99.9. Worry came over me and I called my midwife. She assured me that was a very low fever and could even be because labor was so near. I tried to go back to sleep but was having contractions off and on. Tuesday morning came and with it more contractions. For hours they were regularly 7-10 minutes apart. I gave myself pep talks inwardly and tried to just focus and relax. But as lunch time drew near the contractions once again stopped. My best friend had to return home with her sister and I dozed on the couch. When I woke up the chills had seized me again. This time they seemed worse and my head ached. I took my temperature: 102. This was not good. I took some extra strength tylenol and called my husband to come home right away. I went upstairs and napped. When I woke up my fever had broken and once again I felt renewed and prayed labor would start soon so I could just get it all over with already. I was tired from four nights of very interrupted sleep and beginning to feel fatigue set in with the body aches.

Evening passed and before I went to bed I took another tylenol. Around 1:30 I woke up shaking again. This time I was shaking so hard it hurt to breathe. I went into the bathroom and my husband followed me in. He said I didn't feel hot to him. I looked in the mirror and my lips looked blue. My husband went back to bed and I decided to take a bath to try and ease my aches. When I got out I took another tylenol and thought the chills had stopped but after about an hour they were so bad I felt like I was vibrating. I took my temperature again and it was 103. What on earth was happening? None of my kids had been sick, nor my husband, and I never get sick first! Finally around 5:30 am I called my midwife. I told her she needed to page my doctor because I had to get to the hospital pronto. She hesitated and offered to come by and check me (I had also been having contractions this entire time) but I insisted I needed medical attention and quickly. My other concern was that I thought over the weekend my water bag had leaked some and I knew if this was true fever could indicate an intrauterine infection. Finally by 6:30 we were on our way to the hospital.

Oh Give Thanks Unto the Lord For He is Good!

I suppose I should start with a birth announcement. *big smile* Our fifth child was born on Thursday October 30th at 5:07pm. And.....IT'S A BOY!!! We are the proud parents of FIVE little cowboys. He weighed in at 7 lbs 1 oz and was 19 inches long.

The story of his birth is somewhat exhausting to try and write up right now as it was full of the strange and unexpected but I promise to share it soon. But the thing that rings out in my heart is the verse above. Though so many times the week of our son's birth I was certain things were about to spiral out of control into places I did not want to go, the Lord, in His tender mercy, instead led me beside still waters, quieted my soul, and brought me safely to the other side with the most beautiful baby boy in the world.

I can't share his name here, if you know me personally feel free to email me, but his first name means "God has comforted." and his middle name means "God has helped." I think that pretty nicely sums up our journey of the past year and a half. :)

Fear

"Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the great waters; they saw the deeds of the LORD, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea. They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their evil plight; they reeled and staggered like drunken men and were at their wits' end. Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven." (Psalm 107:23-30 ESV, emphasis mine)


This passage has become one of my all time favorite Bible passages. One of the reasons it is my favorite is because of the verse in bold. Well, and the last verse of the passage because haven is one of our children in heaven's middle names.


We've all known fear: deep, intimate, soul crushing fear. Combine fear with another emotion/weakness like grief, illness, despair, etc and what you face turns down right ugly. They mounted up to the heaven; they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their evil plight...


I had just turned 29 when I faced my first miscarriage where I thought I was dying. My dr had prescribed a medication to take after the baby's body emerged to prevent post birth hemorrhage. What she did not know from the very short time I was her patient was that I have very low blood pressure, and I did not know that this medication lowers blood pressure. So, 20 minutes after taking the medication I had two crushing contractions, by far the worst pain I have ever felt (even after giving birth to four full term babies with no drugs), my vision went black, and I lost the ability to speak. My only thought, due to research I had done in preparation for having the miscarriage at home, was that due to my symptoms of extreme dizziness and blacking out I had something blocking the way out in my uterus and I was bleeding out internally. I knew this could mean death and I remember screaming in my mind, "Lord! No! Please not like this! Please don't let me die in front of my husband with my kids right on the other side of the door playing!" I imagined my kids growing up knowing their mommy died while having a miscarriage at home in the bathroom. That thought still makes me sick.


Last year I faced my own mortality more times than I care to talk about. My body kind of likes to bleed, a lot, and when with my second loss at 11 weeks I tried to get my OB to perform a d&c and, instead, she sent me home with cytotec to induce while again at home with my husband and kids I had to have a good cry in my bedroom before I had the courage to start. That time I really did have something get stuck, began to have severe dizziness after waking up from several hours of sleep with no further bleeding and my husband helped save my life by putting his weight onto my abdomen to push it out. That man and I have had good times.


And now I'm facing another full term birth. Those have been fun too. But we won't go there.


Fear. It creeps up on you, stealing your joy, making you despise the gifts God has given to you, causing you to lay sweating in the night as you fight of the demons that attack you as you face the wages of sin: death.


But...if death does not end in hell, in punishment, then where is its sting? Where is its victory? It's like being certain someone has broken into your house and you're seconds away from being slayed where you stand only to have a furry kitten poke it's head around the corner and nuzzle you. (Though my husband would say that's about just as bad. ;)


Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.


I'm terrified to give birth. I'm afraid my baby and I won't make it to the other side of birth alive. I'm afraid of the pain and agony that is transition for me. I'm afraid of having horrific tearing like I've had in the past. I'm afraid of that moment when you realize something is going very very wrong and there is nothing but faces all around you unable to make it stop.


"they reeled and staggered like drunken men and were at their wits' end. Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven."


Lord, hush the storm, deliver us, and bring us at last to the safe haven of Holy Baptism. Christ keep us.

In the waiting

My journey through pregnancy loss started and ended the exact same way. In December of 2010 I was blessed to conceive my little Hosanna Grace. In fact, I was able to slip the positive pregnancy test into my husband's stocking on Christmas morning. On January 6, 2011 she went home to the Lord. Very soon afterwards I conceived my fourth living child and he was due November 14, 2011. He was born into my hands on Nov. 4, 10 days early.

In December of 2012 I was blessed to conceive our 6th child, Anastasia Joy. Three months later she went home to the Lord as did our next three children that year. Then in December of 2013 I conceived our Noel Eve. On January 9, 2014 Noel went home to heaven.

I am now due, just as I was right after our very first loss, on Nov. 14. Less than a month away from my due date I no longer feel like I'm drowning in an inescapable whirlpool of death and nightmares. I always knew the Lord was with me, above and before me, but original sin is a beast. And when one is faced with inescapable death, old Adam loses his ability to congratulate himself for anything because the thing that is most important to mother at the moment is protecting her child and in repeat pregnancy loss we are rendered helpless, and it's so easy to despair.

I haven't had any ultrasounds this pregnancy since three weeks before the first trimester ended. Maybe I should have because it's been very easy to feel very removed this whole pregnancy. It's been hard to attach, hard to believe any of it is real, and hard to feel any bond with the baby within. Though, emotions are so fleeting anyways and I was so overwhelmed by them for months on end that I feel like it's OK to not be emotional if I don't want to. Baby does not need me to be emotional. And it doesn't matter if I "feel" attached. The reality is, I am, very physically speaking, and my body is doing what needs to be done with or without my emotions. Thanks be to God.

So here I am waiting, may the Lord deliver me in His perfect time and may my child be brought quickly, so quickly to the font of Holy Baptism.

Trucking along.

I wrote the title to this post feeling pretty positive today but then had to laugh out loud. There is nothing organized, orderly, or emotionally stabilizing about home schooling 4 boys 8 and under and being pregnant with a baby while also watching an infant full time. There just isn't.

But somehow we keep trucking a long. I'm learning that less is more. I'm learning that we should have very few things that we order our day around in order to keep from getting so stressed out that I literally accomplish nothing and instead end up a huge crying mess.

So what do we order our days around? Breakfast, Bible/Catechism/Hymn time, Lunch, quiet time, Dinner, and Bible time with Daddy.

I've also embraced the fact that my oldest is now very capable of being independent in his lessons. He has a math book he is mostly capable of doing alone with short moments of guidance from me, he is interested in learning cursive so I bought him two workbooks that complement each other and he's working through those, and we're working through two different chapter books right now in addition to an audio book series he listens to every day and narrates to his dad when he gets home. We have multiple other things we pick up when we feel like it, social studies and science type books, but it's so nice to be able to, between all the above things we schedule our day around, say, "Hey, I see you're looking for something to do, go grab your math book and I'd like you to do three pages please."

We have a motto in our home, "We work before we play." My kids know that just like the daily household maintenance chores I ask them to do, school work is part of their whole duty of a child which means that it enables them to better serve their family, which is their current vocation. Of course, the typical amount of time they are asked to do anything from curriculum is very small right now because most of the day they are so full of questions of their own and are buried in our books, reference books, and having me look things up online for them. I am much more inclined to watch them hungrily devour knowledge they are pursuing on their own until they are of age where they will be working hard towards a goal that will enable them to pursue their new vocations as adults.

The hard part, for me, is not losing it in the chaos. There just is no perfect way to feel complete order and control when one is managing education, home, meals, outside of the home activities and friends, etc. So, I'm sticking with less is more for now and trying to enjoy these last 10 weeks (!!!!!!) of pregnancy and the baby kicking the daylights out of my ribs.

Many Hands Make Work Light....I Hope

This week I began a full time job. No, not outside of the home. I am now caring full time for a precious baby girl while her mama returns to work. I adore this little girl, she is seriously the best behaved baby ever. She adores her sleep and goes to sleep happy as can be every time simply by being swaddled and laid in the pack n' play. She takes her bottles of her Mama's milk like a pro. And when this little girl is awake, so long as she has one of my four boys near by to watch, she is just as content as can be. She is so cute.

Having her in our home full time 5 days a week is going to be a big change. When she's hungry, everything stops so I can feed her. When she's tired, the boys have to be quiet so she can nap. Obviously they will have these changes in four months, God willing, anyhow, but this time it's for someone outside of our family and came on with rather short notice. They are handling it beautifully and adore having her here. They are all now unanimous that they want the baby in my belly to be a sister.

So, we work to view this in the eyes of Christian service and think "this makes me rich in my vocation". We have yet another opportunity to serve our neighbor and a family in Christ and be a loving home for this sweet girl for the next few years during the day.

We are also working on a major home "renovation" and making 3 big room changes. The main floor master is becoming a study/play room/baby nap room. The second floor room that was home to our four boys is now becoming my husband's and my room. And the second floor play room is now the boys' room. This is a lot of furniture to move. This is also a lot of cleaning to do. The old boys' room is requiring a ton of work as a drop down ceiling needed to be removed, fake paneling ripped out, and then we discovered some mold on one wall behind the paneling because an air return had been covered. So, dry wall had to be ripped out, the insulation removed, and fresh insulation and new dry wall placed. We have to repair the other dry wall from the paneling, paint, refinish the wood floors in that room, and move our furniture from the downstairs bedroom up the stairs and down to hallways into our bedroom. Then we will move the toys that are in the guest room and basement down to the new play room. This will give us a definite sleep area upstairs (which will keep us from needing to use the upstairs during the day and give me better oversight over little ones) and a definite living and play space downstairs. The new play room has a door that can shut so it will also make a good school room for older boys as they need quiet with more intensive studies.

And just for kicks we decided to refinish our kitchen table and deep clean the basement this week, you know, since we don't have anything going on. :)

We have four months until this sweet baby is due. In that time we need to finish these projects, make a trip to see some dear friends about 12 hours away, and complete a few other home renovations before winter sets in.

Oh!!! And I just got some supplies in the mail today to finally give sprouting grains a try! I bought ancient Einkorn wheat that I'm going to sprout, dry, and grind to make into baked goods because I discovered my allergic son can have sprouted Einkorn wheat! We bought a barrel of berries so I need to get sprouting. I also bought some glycerin so I can make my own child friendly herbal tinctures for fall and winter illnesses. I want to get those made before October so we are prepared for cold and flu season.

Finally I've started my pregnancy work out regimen. With my 4th I began working out at 22 weeks in an attempt to make labor easier. It worked. I was in such amazing shape by labor that my ability to handle the pain, stay ahead of it, and not get exhausted was greatly improved. My husband was so impressed that he's been really encouraging me to get at it again and I know he's right. But it's hard going because during my year of miscarriages I was afraid to work out much in case working out too hard was hurting my pregnancies. We found a treadmill at a garage sale and I've been doing 45 min workouts on a high speed and decent incline doing different arm workouts while walking fast.

And of course, home schooling continues and the boys are all loving their new math books while we continue to work through Bible/catechism, reading, handwriting, history, and science.

Did I mention I have about 35 tomato plants that are mass producing right now? Anyone want to come help make ketchup, salsa, and spaghetti sauce to can? :)

One day at a time

I've been kind of avoiding this place lately. I'm not sure why. With spring and now summer like weather I have been very busy outside. I planted a large garden in early spring in a small greenhouse we set up and last weekend my husband and I spent the entire weekend taking the greenhouse down, tilling, planting, laying straw, building a fence around it, etc. It was a ton of work but so rewarding. I now have about 25 tomato plants growing (roma mostly) so that come harvest I can process and can salsa, home made ketchup, and spaghetti sauce. We eat a lot of all three so I want it to be home made and cheap!

We also re-landscaped our entire front garden. When we moved in 2 1/2 years ago, the garden had three MASSIVE shrubs and some bulbs that came up each year. Last summer we removed the largest shrub...with our van. We're cool like that. Then a few weeks ago my husband and his brother removed the other two with an ax and man muscle. So over the last few weeks I have planted over 50 bulbs around our 3/4 of an acre, most of them in the front garden, and we also planted two magnolia trees in the front and I laid about 20 bags of mulch. I'm pretty proud I've done all of this work while also being in the first and beginning of my second trimesters.

Today I spent the entire day out pulling weeds, tending my garden, and then I surprised my husband and seriously deep cleaned our garage and reorganized it. All of this I did by myself!

A lot of people have asked me if, now that I'm 16 weeks along, I am able to breathe easy and know everything will be OK with this baby. I can't help but laugh and sigh all at once. A dear friend of mine lost her baby at 38+ weeks. Even before my long run of losses, I was never the same after that. Of course now it runs much deeper but I do not think I will ever feel the same about pregnancy again. I will always until I am, God willing, able to hold the baby in my arms, be aware that at any moment the Lord could call my baby home. This is sobering, scary, gives me nightmares that I'm waking up hemorrhaging as I miscarry...and yet, those are just bad moments. I've had enough suffering in the last year plus to know that suffering is just suffering. Bad moments are just bad moments. Death is just death, but only because Jesus took what sin and the devil meant for our permanent destruction and swallowed it up with His own death.

Christ Jesus lay in death's strong bands,
For our offenses given.
But now at God's right hand He stands,
and brings us life from heaven.
Therefore let us joyful be,
and sing to God right thankfully,
loud sonds of Alleluia, Alleluia!

It was a strange and dreadful strife,
when life and death contended;
The victory remained with life,
the reign of death was ended.
Holy Scripture plainly saith,
that death is swallowed up by death
It's sting is lost forever,
Alleluia!

I don't know what the future holds. I am so thankful for this rest from loss but I know that even if the Lord were to call this baby home, He would sustain me and my family. But for now we are able to rejoice and thank God for this miracle, praying fervently for this child's baptismal day to come in due time and that this child and the rest of our children will be sustained and granted earthly lives full of joy in their service to Christ and His church.

That thing.

It happened. I was laying back in the tub last night and felt a little reverberation from deep inside, just below my belly button. I looked down in surprise and pushed down firmly right where I had felt it. Then. BAM! That little fiery one kicked so hard I felt it both inside and out. Smile. And this Mama's heart beat wildly.

photo credit

198 days...

198 days, or 11 wks and 5 days pregnant, is a very big number for me. That's how many days left I had in my pregnancy with Anastasia to get to her due date when I found out she was dead. That's where I am today with Genesis.

Instead of laying cold in a dark room while I stared at a lifeless body I continued to work through my nausea and pregnancy headaches. Instead of praying feverishly for wisdom on whether to let them rush me over for a d&c, I had trouble zipping up my coat over my expanding belly. Instead of not being able to eat from grief, I found myself with heartburn from allowing myself dessert.

I feel like I'm living a fantasy. I know that sounds dramatic, I've had 4 full term pregnancies and it's only been 2 1/2 years since giving birth to my youngest living child, but something about the last year and 4 months just seems like an eternity. I had given myself over to the reality that God was done growing our family in live births.

Part of this is not my fault. At my follow up apt after my miscarriage in January, after going over the details of the miscarriages all over again with my OB, who is a specialist in infertility/miscarriage, she furrowed her brow and said to me, "We can do all the tests if you want. But I don't think we're going to find anything. I think your 4 living children were the lucky ones." I really trust my OB. I adore her honestly. She is so kind and understanding and respectful of my faith. So when she said those words to me, I believed her. She thought there was something genetically wrong with either my husband or I (or both of us together) that was going to continue to make us miscarry and that the four we had were "lucky".

I went home and wrestled. I wrestled with the Lord, with my own perception of the meaning of life, of the meaning of MY life, with everything I thought I would be, with everything I thought my LIFE would be..... with my false gods.

Then I read Job. Oh Job. Thank you Jesus for giving us the book of Job. I cried my way through it, seeing myself and my sin and my idolatry.

We did the testing, the very expensive non insurance covered testing. I did not allow the genetic testing. The only testing I wanted was testing that would let me know if there was anything I needed to do to protect my littlest neighbor. There is nothing I can do about genetics. It all came back normal. This seemed to confirm what my OB had said.

So, we did a last resort. The only thing we hadn't tried. I asked my OB to prescribe progesterone for me to take from ovulation on so that if my progesterone was still low as it was during the summer miscarriages, I could at least provide that. I worried about using the progesterone. What if we really did have a genetic problem and I was prolonging a child's suffering in my womb by using it? But my OB assured me that the progesterone would not prolong the life of a baby that was struggling. And there, on the second cycle after my miscarriage, was the positive test. And here I am 11 weeks and 5 days later with a maternity shirt on.

I used to be proud when I walked through a store with my little ducks in a row and a growing belly. I walked around like it was a trophy. I had built up a false god under the same of quiverfull, believing myself more righteous for having a growing brood of children and proudly saying I would have as many as the Lord blessed me with.

I am not proud anymore. I am deeply in love with each of my children and see in them my opportunity to serve them as Christ serves me. And I am being given that opportunity again to give up my own body to serve the life of this unborn child. But it earns me no awards, no favor from God, no honors. I am not the Creator, I am simply a vessel. I am not the Savior, I am simply the boo boo kisser and the tushy wiper. The blessing comes not because the quiver is full or not full, the blessing is each and every child baptized into Christ because each and every child is the handiwork of God. I once read the quiverfull passage and thought, how very sad for those that are barren or have very few children. Where is the Gospel in this for them?

But now I understand. "Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth, how blessed is the man who's quiver is full of them." Arrows pierce the enemy. Baptized children of God pierce our enemy the devil with their child-like faith. Your quiver can still be full if you have not had a child spring from your own body. Your quiver is full any time you teach the young about Jesus. Your quiver is full any time you read the Gospel to a little child in your lap. Your quiver is full when you yourself continue in the faith you were raised in and remain steadfast in His Word.

The honor is not in me, it is in Jesus and His salvific work in all the little children that become His through Holy Baptism. THEY are the blessing because they are HIS. It's not We that are the blessing because we have lots of babies.

God has created Genesis and I long for this child's baptismal day where another arrow will be like a poisoned dart to the devil and will mock him as we await Christ's return.

Come soon Lord Jesus.

Genesis

Friday came and with it an 11 week apt. I had been feeling very peaceful since a 9 1/2 wk ultrasound but still found myself nervous. It was sometime between week 11 and 12 that Anastasia died and I knew at my apt we would be trying to find the heart beat with the doppler. It was the doppler that revealed to us our baby had died before...what if I only heard silence again?

I prayed about it and the kids and I did our devotional readings and while I prayed later in the shower (seems to be the only place I can really pray without being interrupted), I knew it was going to be OK. I'm not saying I knew the baby would be alive. I'm saying I knew no matter what I was going to be OK. The Lord has truly restored my joy and I felt joyful and peaceful about any outcome. If the Lord chose to bring back our grief, He would be there before and after and within us.

I went to my apt alone because my husband had to take my oldest to piano. He took all the little boys with him. I got there and we chatted for a long time and since I'm working with a new midwife we went over all my past history, all our births and miscarriages. Of course we ended with the miscarriages since those were most recent. My midwife was wonderful and her assistant had endured 3 miscarriages in a row. They both listened and offered sweet words of comfort and consolation. Finally it was time to try the doppler.

I took a deep breath and laid down. The midwife spread the jelly and started searching. We started on the right. We listened and she explained that the one thing we were hearing was my own heart beat. I knew that as it was the same thing my other midwife said the day we couldn't find Anastasia's. After not finding it she went over to the left. We all sat there listening to the silence. I closed my eyes. "Come what may, Lord." I tried to find some words to tell my midwife it was OK to stop trying. But my midwife seemed unfazed. Instead she went way down and to the right. Suddenly we heard a "SWOOSH!" My eyes shot open and I looked at her with surprise and disbelief and then she cornered the little mover and hider and we heard the "whooshwhooshwhooshwhooshwooshwoosh" of the babe's heart racing. My tears started flowing and the midwife and assistant cried with me. I love midwives.

I'm in maternity clothes now. My fundal height is half way to my belly button. And this Friday, I will be 12 weeks. I can hardly believe my first trimester is almost over. It seems like a dream.

And speaking of dreams, remember my dream with Anastasia that would have taken place tomorrow in this pregnancy as far as length (also the day the dr believes she died)? Well I had a dream last night too. I had a dream I had a full term baby and was holding the chunky baby in my arms. The baby was naked except for a diaper. My husband said, "Did you look to see what it is?" I laughed and said "No! I can't believe I forgot to look!" I had been holding and nursing the child for quite some time. I slowly opened the diaper and in my dream that part took forever. Then, I saw a girl. :)

I don't know if I really have a lil girl in there or another bouncing boy but I am so thankful for today and each day with my sweet Genesis Hope. Christ keep us.

Faith

Once upon a time the theology of glory had crept its way into my definition of faith. The theology of glory likes to do that, especially in America. I once thought that having faith meant staying positive. I thought it meant hoping for the best, that God would give us OUR best. I thought it meant not being pessimistic and expecting blessing.

That is NOT faith. 

Faith is knowing, come what may, that Jesus is still Jesus. 

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1

But what are those "things hoped for"? Are they money, riches, a baby, a huge house, success, fame?

Further down in the passage we read:

"Women received back their dead by resurrection. Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated—of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth. And all these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect." (Hebrews 11:35-40 ESV)

Are you in a time of plenty? God is good. Are you in a time of need? God is good. Are you facing illness, persecution, or death? God is good.

Saturday night I experienced the last of my morning sickness. It came to an abrupt end. I was 9 weeks and 1 day pregnant. I knew this was too early for the sickness to end. Sunday came and went, Monday came and went, and by Tuesday morning I knew I needed to call in for an ultrasound. I knew this baby was gone. I didn't feel like doing devotions with the kids but I forced myself remembering that the fiery darts of the devil are so easily extinguished with the Word and hymns. So the kids and I read our readings for the day and then sang "God's Own Child I Gladly Say it", "O Little Flock, Fear Not the Foe", and "Lord of our Life". With each hymn I felt my voice singing a little louder and with a little more peace, hope, and reassurance. I did not have faith or hope or reassurance that my baby would live, instead, I had faith and hope and reassurance that come what may, the Lord is with me. Behind me, beside me, within me. And if He leads me to grief, there is nothing I am experiencing that He has not already faced, but without sin.

We got our ultrasound time and I admit I was so sad and downcast. But faith is not defined by countenance but by assurance. And of this I was assured: that Christ always keeps me. Finally we sat face to face with that screen. I held my breath as the wand came to my skin, grimaced, pleaded for mercy regardless, and then beheld God's creation, complete with a flickering heart and wiggling hands and feet. One thing is for certain, this little one is feisty!

For today God has chosen this particular blessing in this particular way because He is God and He has called this good. I am overwhelmed with thankfulness. I do not know what tomorrow holds but I am so thankful that I know my faith is not defined by my definition of blessings, but by God's. Come famine, come pestilence, come persecution, come death, come hardship, come repetitive loss, Jesus is Good and His ways are always, always, for our good, to bring us to our heavenly home.

It's happening

This past week we honored our Abel as we remembered him on his expected due date- 4-8-14. A dear friend and her husband, who we had asked to be the God parents for this child before he died, had a package show up at my door the day before. I waited to open it with my husband that night on the eve of his due date. It was a beautiful gold crucifix. Now we have a crucifix in every room on the first floor. I love it. And now I will always have that crucifix to look at to remind me not only of Christ's sacrifice that atoned for the sins of the entire world, but for my Abel's as well.

After I wrote my last post I spent a long time that evening in prayer confessing all of my fears to God. I didn't try to...piefy (piefy: v. to make pious-OK, yes, I made that up) my prayers but instead just confessed and, with few words, simply asked God to please help me.

I don't know why it surprises me sometimes when He gives me exactly what I ask for in the simplest of ways. I woke up Monday morning and things were different. My fear was gone. poof. I realized it right away, mid-morning, and thanked God for His tender mercy and then got distracted in the first couple days of my week. Tuesday night I realized again how worry free I was and told a couple friends about the wonderful blessing. Then I had a nightmare Tuesday night that I was miscarrying. I woke up and thought it was real, thought I was covered in blood, and then the worry came crashing back. I immediately got onto my knees and confessed it all again, once again asking God to have mercy on me and help me in my meager faith. By mid morning I was once again fear-free.

It's not that I don't know I could still lose this baby. I'm not naive nor does being worry free mean bad things won't happen. It's just that I have met death face to face 6 times in my own body. The Lord saw fit to allow us a long year of very intimate and isolating grief. This cross the Lord mercifully allowed in our lives may or may not be over, but it doesn't matter ... the Lord Jesus Christ who has redeemed me and atoned for my sins, atoned for the sins of this child as well. This baby is bathed in God's Word each and every day and, come what may, Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. Lord, I am yours, save me.

Tomorrow I turn 9 weeks pregnant. Happy 9 weeks Genesis Hope. xo- we love you sweet baby.

Stuck where I don't want to be

This morning in church just a couple words into the Old Testament reading for the day I had tears streaming down my face. It was the beloved passage in Ezekiel of the valley of the dry bones. When I was pregnant with Anastasia's dead body I read that passage out loud every day in faith that if the Lord wanted to He could raise my baby back to life.

The New Testament reading was the raising of Lazarus. Enter more tears.

It's strange being in the season of Lent at a different time of the year because I will always associate Lent now with finding out our baby was dead right before Ash Wednesday and then going through the first week of Lent plus a little of the next waiting to birth her, and then giving birth and waiting the rest of Lent to be able to bury her body because the ground was frozen. Now I'm in the season again but of course past all the dates of those events. Instead of being so close to Easter and finally being able to put flowers on my baby's grave, I'm waiting for the week after Easter when we are hoping to hear a heart beat on doppler. It was that 12 week appointment with our Anastasia where the doppler gave us nothing but stark silence.

It's an agonizing wait. I'll be brutally honest and say that even though I know I will be OK either way, by the grace of God, this wait, this not knowing, is torture. Every day I look for blood. Every time I'm not nauseous I worry. Every time I'm too nauseous I worry. I can't think about November or birth or feeling baby kick or newborn diapers or bringing up the maternity clothes or asking my neighbor for my arm's reach cosleeper back, because I don't believe any of it will be necessary/will happen.

If it weren't for Anastasia's death, I might not feel this way, but when a pregnancy is going textbook and one day, at 12 weeks for no apparent reason your baby dies...well, life doesn't feel like black and white anymore. Life in the womb seems like this grey area that can just slip away at any given moment. I suppose this is plenty true of life on earth too, but at least on earth we can usually point to a cause.

Back when I had my ultrasound with Anastasia we thought we had evidence of something drastically wrong with her. If you look back at my post around Feb 6 of 2013 where I show the ultrasound picture there was what looked like a "bubble" coming off of her head. The ultrasound tech assumed it was a head malformation that had caused her death. But when she was born, there was no sign of it and her head and face were perfect. We think whatever we saw was probably remaining yolk sac instead of a malformation.

I don't know how long Genesis will be with us. I don't know if her earthly life will only exist in the womb. I know no matter what I love and adore this child and am blessed beyond words to be this child's mother and protector for now. But this waiting time in pregnancy reminds me of what it's like to be stuck in grief.

I don't want to be here, but sometimes in life we have no choice. We don't choose grief and loss and death, it is simply the reality of existence in a fallen world. We cannot lift ourselves out of grief. We cannot choose for it to end. Only God, only our Lord Jesus Christ can lift us up in due time. In His time. And that is good. So very good. These inner workings in my body are not mine to know for now. They are Christ's.

So here I am. I'm in this strange existence between joy and grief. On the one hand I still miss my babies in heaven dreadfully and cry for the children that have all been housed in my body the past year. On the other, I think about this child that might still be alive in my womb right now, maybe even starting to move those tiny hand and feet plates that should be forming, and I smile a private small smile and pray so fervently for this child. I read God's Word out loud and sing God's hymns and read the Catechism out loud and receive God's body and blood, but then I must wait. Even if I had an ultrasound every week that doesn't mean that a day later my baby wouldn't die. So, I must just wait. And wait. And pray the day will come that I can actually feel this baby kicking and squirming inside of me. But then there's always still waiting and praying. And even if this child is granted an earthly life, there is still waiting and praying as the child grows and changes and lives.

Whether or not I parent this child here, the reality is, these children belong to the Lord. This is the walk we are called to as parents, as humans. We are not our own, we are the Lord's, as are our children, and so we wait. We wait and pray and keep our eyes on the horizon. He IS coming back. So in the mean time we muddle through as best we can. Our lives may be full of weeping and mourning, laughter and play, feasting and fasting, rest and sleeplessness, illness and health, isolation and company. We, by the grace of God, take it as it comes, do our best to strengthen our weak knees for this walk, but know all along that Christ goes before us, behind us, and within us.

O Little Flock, fear not the foe,
Who madly seeks your overthrow,
Dread not his rage and power,
and though your courage sometimes faints,
his seeming triumph o'er God's saints,
lasts but a little hour.

As true as God's own Word is true,
Not earth nor hell's satanic crew,
against us shall prevail,
their might? A joke, a mere facade!
God is with us, and we with God,
our victory cannot fail. (LSB vs 1,3 #666)

Christ keep us.

The Big Picture

Yesterday morning I woke up in one of those confused stupors where I couldn't remember what day it was or what I needed to be doing and in those moments I forgot that I am pregnant. I sorted out things I knew until I was back in the present and then, once I remembered that I am pregnant, I also realized how 100% pregnancy absorbed I have been over the past few weeks. Obviously, this is understandable for someone that has been pregnant 6 times in a little over a year. And yet, waking up momentarily "not pregnant", also gave me a little glimpse at all the other things going on in my life right now that need my focus while this baby really does not as much. One of my sons is about to turn 6 this month and, of course, we also have Holy Week and Easter just a few short weeks away. My in laws are visiting later this month and then next month we have a Pastor's conference to attend and I have a church event to hostess. As the calendar moves on, we have more things filling it than open space and it has brought me back to more of a focus on what I have at this moment, not what I hope will be.

Right now little Genesis is tucked inside me hopefully all safe and sound. We pray daily, multiple times a day, as a family, for our sweet baby. And yet, there's also the reality that though this baby has been given into my body, he or she has not yet been given into my arms. So, I do what I can for this child: rest, try to eat through the all day nausea, and get moderate exercise, but, with warm weather approaching and a garden needing planting, well, I suppose there's only so much looking down one can do before you have to look up at the bigger picture.

lil Genesis grows

Today I got to see a living baby on ultrasound. I had a couple little scares this week that warranted a nurse to schedule a same day ultrasound this morning and by 1pm my husband and I were driving over. My heart was pounding and I was terrified. I tried to think what to pray and what to think but found myself humming "Why Should Cross and Trial Grieve Me?" over and over softly. I comforted myself with a sweet sister's words today that so often we are tempted to hold God to our own parameters for how we want to be blessed and in what time frame rather than realizing the ways God has chosen to bless us. I reminded myself that God has chosen to bless us in the past in one way but that does not mean He will choose that for us now.

My husband and I made our way to the waiting room and cracked little jokes. Then we hugged and my husband prayed. He didn't say "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." as he normally does, instead he started his prayer as if he was in the middle of a prayer. I think he was. And is. He's a great guy, my husband.

We went back to joking little sweet jokes and then my husband told me, "I think this baby is OK." He smiled gently and then we were called back.

I liked the technician right away. She was young but tall, pretty, and extremely open as far as what we were doing. She was talkative but not overly. We started with the abdominal ultrasound and I told her how far along I was. She positioned the wand with the new warming gel that is so awesome and I held my breath. I hate those moments where you see womb but not the black hole of the sac and baby. But suddenly there was the sac...was it empty? For a moment I thought it was. She zoomed in and suddenly there was something...zoomed in more and then a flicker. A fast flicker. :) My baby had a beating heart. I cried. And laughed. And I shook the ultrasound. Finally we switched to internal in order to get the heart rate and date the pregnancy. We got a closer look and could just make out arm and leg buds and I thought I saw the slightest wiggle in them. The heart thundered at 132 bpm and the yolk sac was nice and big. Though my LMP dates the pregnancy at 6 wks 4 days, the ultrasound and my own foreknowledge of when the baby was conceived dated the baby at 7 wks. Right on date.

Today felt like stepping out into the sun on the beach. My happy place. Today God chose this particular blessing in this particular way for whatever reason and we are overjoyed. We don't know what the future holds, what form God's blessings will or will not take, but always, always, Jesus is still Jesus and we always have Him where He promises to be: Baptism, His Supper, His Holy Word, and Confession and Absolution.

Thank you Jesus for our sweet Genesis and for all 11 of our children. To God be the glory forever and ever.