Saturday, June 27, 2020
Wednesday, April 29, 2020
Sunday, October 9, 2016
A Journey Towards Motherhood, Part 4 - Birth
A Journey Towards Motherhood, Part 4
I woke up feeling a bit off on the long Friday of Memorial Day weekend. I was feeling some light cramping that had started around 4 am. Being 40+ weeks pregnant you just don't expect to sleep well anymore so it wasn't unusual to be up and out of bed for the day while it was still dark and today was no different.
But as the morning progressed the cramping persisted and became quite regular - so Diego started timing them and they were coming about every 7-9 minutes apart. They were not exactly painful yet but they got my attention! We decided to go about our day since it was a Holiday weekend we had made plans to have lunch and see a movie.
We went and grabbed burgers and talked and laughed and enjoyed our date-day to the fullest despite the contractions getting stronger and stronger. We went to the movies and settled into the lounge-style recliners and began to watch the latest Marvel's Avenger's summer blockbuster film. Looking back now, I think we were crazy but at the time we needed a distraction and this would prove to be our last solo date. Whenever a contraction would hit I would squeeze/crush Diego's hand and he would know to enter it into the app to track. They were coming very regularly at about 7 minutes and were definitely getting stronger. Let's just say I am not sure exactly what the plot of the movie was... I was too distracted at this point to pay attention.
We got back into the car and decided we had reached our limit of contractions in public places and it was time to head home. We passed right by the hospital and Diego asked if I wanted to stop and just check in and see if everything was ok. Here's where inexperience really get's you the first time around: 1. I was in pain but you hear all these horror stories about how bad it is going to get and I just kept thinking: we have a long way to go, pony-up and tough it out. 2. My water hadn't broke - isn't that the real precursor to labor? No. Not always - but I didn't know that. 3. In between contractions you feel almost... normal. I could talk normally, felt fine and could forget about the pain for 6 minutes or so. Just enough time to think that this wasn't TOO bad. And 4. Braxton Hicks. There is so much hype about these false labor pains that I worried I would be one of the many to go in with just a false alarm and so I wanted to be really, really sure this was labor. So we went right past the hospital.
By the time we got home and Diego took care of our pup and the house and we changed and tried to settle in for the night I was in PAIN. And the contractions were super regular and intensifying rapidly. Let me take a minute to say that it was in NO way what I expected. In the movies the lady gasps and grabs her upper abdomen and her face contorts. These cramps were like your bowels were being twisted and ripped around in a blender and then crushed by some invisible hand and then, just when you can't take it anymore: relief for a few minutes and then repeat, repeat, repeat. You do kind of lose control of your bladder and you really don't care - it hurts! I didn't expect it to feel like this but it was bad and it was unlike anything I had ever felt before and I was officially convinced this was true labor. It was time to head into the hospital.
By the time we got there it was late and the nurses seemed to scoff at us walking in calmly. They weren't unkind they just were not very sympathetic. After a quick exam they said, "well I can see you are in labor but you are only dilated 1-2 cm, this is early, early labor so go home and get some rest." I remember thinking: the contractions have been regular for 16 hours at this point and intensifying beyond being able to "rest" HOW am I supposed to go home and get some sleep? The nurse must have seen my face of disbelief so she said, "I am going to give you an Ambien to help you sleep and to take an edge off the pain. Call us again in the morning." What a horrible, horrible idea. But I didn't know any better so I took the dumb, little pill and we went home.
Do you know what active labor with a sleeping aide looks like? It looks like a disaster. I was in SO much pain there was no way I was going to sleep even with a sleeping pill. Instead, I just lost most motor control and was stumbling around like a drunk person trying to make it to the bathroom every 5 minutes when another contraction would hit. It was literally the longest, darkest, most painful night of my life. Diego was up with me the entire time, still faithfully tracking every contraction.
At 8am the next morning I had had it and begged Diego to call my Dr. He did instantly - he had been asking me if we should call for hours. The Dr (a woman) was still skeptical that this was "real" labor - in fact even though I had been talking to her for 10 minutes and had to stop talking twice for two contractions she had the audacity to say, "you are mostly talking normally, you aren't screaming or crying, are you sure you are in actual pain?" At that point I was flabbergasted! If she wanted tears I would start crying in an instant. Screams? Ok, I could do that but what was that going to accomplish except scare my husband? I was so upset at her logic and I assured her that I was SURE I was in labor and we would be coming in to get checked.
Diego prayed on the way down that the hospital staff would take mercy on us and admit us this time and give me something to help with the pain. Thankfully this time they admitted us even though that whole night worth of agony had only moved us from a 1-2 cm dilation to a 2-3 cm dilation - I think they could see on our faces that we. were. done. I remember thinking that if it took this long to get to 3 cm it was going to take FOREVER to get to 9 cm so BRING ME THE DRUGS!!
As soon as we got admitted and settled in, the epidural was administered and they broke my water, something peculiar happened, the Dr broke my water and then said to the nurse, "did that (the liquid) look dark to you?" The nurse responded, "I think I saw it too but now it's clear." The Dr then agreed and asked her to keep an eye on it - that was at 11am. I had no idea what they were talking about or what it meant - I was feeling relief for the first time in over 30 hours thanks to the medication and was so tired I didn't really have the presence of mind to question them. I wish I had.
The epidural is amazing. It really changed everything. I could relax for the first time in hours and hours - in fact, I even got a small nap. And it turned out that was exactly what my body needed, a little relief from the pain and I started to dilate very, very quickly. Within a few hours I was dilated to 9 cm and the Dr was on her way to examine me. She said that everything looked good and that she would leave for awhile and return closer to delivery, that I was going to begin pushing with the nurse and that this pushing stage could take a few hours. She said she was going to do some rounds and have some coffee.
Thankfully, I had the presence of mind not to over do it on the epidural meds, I remember thinking that I wanted to feel something to know that I was having a contraction so that I could know when to push. The nurse got me all set up and ready and we began to push. It went very quickly. In fact she only had me push a few times and she was very excited with the progress (I think being able to feel some of the contractions and to work with my body in pushing made all the difference). The nurse got a mirror so that I could look and see that his head was crowning and went to call the Dr back giving me strict instructions NOT to push.
Years and years ago I stumbled on a teaching about the name of God - Yahweh. The teaching goes that in ancient times the Jewish people believed that God's name was too holy even to be uttered by our unclean, unworthy lips. That He had a name for Himself that was never to be spoken. And yet when Moses encountered God in a Burning Bush, God told him to take off his shoes because he was on holy ground. When Moses asked Him who He was - He responded with a peculiar name - Yahweh. I AM. The teaching goes that most scholars believe that we have added the vowels over time to make it easier to pronounce but that the Y, the H, and the W are all breathing sounds in the Hebrew alphabet. Like Y-ah. H-ay, W-ah, H-ay. The sound of an exhale - more sound than language. This struck me as something so wonderful, just when we think we can never even bring ourselves to speak His name because He is so Holy and we are so unworthy He gives us a name that we say with every breath that we take! The speaker noted that perhaps as we are born we become fully alive not just with our first breath but with the first time we utter the name of Yahweh. And when we die it is not just when we stop breathing but rather when we stop having the name of God on our lips. Breath in, breath out - Y-ah, H-ay, W-ah, H-ay.
It is a beautiful teaching and it had stuck with me all these years. I had shared it with Diego after we were married and it was special to us. So I had been looking forward to this moment, this first breath of life from our tiny son for 9 months. When the nurse stepped out of the room to call the Dr and we were alone for the first time in hours, I took off my oxygen mask and grabbed Diego's hand and I told him, "don't forget to listen for that first breath, that first Yahweh when he is born." Diego smiled at me, tears welling up, a little shaky but he nodded. He knew what I meant.
The Dr arrived and she too was excited at how quickly the pushing was going, she said she could see his head and he was almost ready - I was so surprised with this process I think in total it was 30 minutes and maybe only 12-15 pushes and then in one final, glorious push he was here and, sure enough, he sputtered, coughed and then let out one mighty cry, one holy Yahweh!
Diego and I locked eyes in that instant and I can promise you - we were on Holy Ground!
I will never forget that moment. It was special and sacred and we were both crying tears of gratitude and joy for God's powerful Breath of Life and for the safety and arrival of our son! In these Holy moments life boils down to the most basic elements and I was reminded again that we are all here, eternal creatures suspended in time, by the very graciousness and power and mercy of our Holy Father, our I AM, our Breath-Giver, Life-Sustainer, the Uncreated One. HE was in that hospital room with us at that moment. I know it.
Sawyer was very healthy and strong and the Dr was complimentary on how my body had responded to the birthing process with minimal injury. In fact, she told Diego not to let me sneeze on our next baby because the delivery part had gone so quickly. The only small complication was that when they had first broke my water they should have noticed he had had a bowel movement in the amniotic fluid (the pediatrician said likely due to the long hours of contractions we both endured, poor little guy was being squeezed and squeezed) and that the dirty water could have caused some damage to his lungs because he stayed in there for close to another 9 hours before actual birth. But, thankfully, God had protected him from any complication or distress and he was born - dirty - but healthy and whole. I have never been so grateful for anything before in my life.
I was finally, officially a mom. And baby Sawyer was here - precious and perfect and in fact praising God with us with every single breath that he took! Y-ah, H-ay, W-ah, H-ay. Yahweh. Praise Him!
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
A Journey Towards Motherhood Part 3
Thankfully with time all things change and the 1st Trimester did not last forever. By the time the Holidays were coming around I was feeling much, much better and most of the "fun" parts of pregnancy were ahead of us.
The Christmas season was especially meaningful this past year as we celebrated our last holiday as a single couple. It was/is unfathomable to imagine how much different this Christmas will be with an extra stocking on the mantle and a baby rummaging around in all the gifts and wrapping paper. I was especially struck by the idea that God chose a young pregnant girl to present the world this magnificent gift and a little, innocent baby to save it. I remember thinking HOW did God the Father bare to sacrifice His only Son? I was a new mom and already experiencing the wild and feral protectiveness of my unborn child. I would be unable to do this - sacrifice myself? Yes. I think I could for a greater good (I hope I would) but my child? No. I don't think I would be that strong.
After the Holidays were past we went in for our 20 week ultrasound and got to see our little baby for the first time since the initial ultrasound to confirm pregnancy. We had heard the little heartbeat many times and each one was magical but to see the growth from the very beginning was incredible. God had been busy! Baby was perfect - beautifully formed and growing at a rate that astonishes me every time I consider that 20 weeks prior there was nothing and now there was the darling, active little baby soon very capable of sustaining life all on it's own. That is God's mysterious magic - to create something out of nothing.
We also found out the gender! Our baby was a healthy little boy! I had honestly not hoped for one gender over the other - whatever God wanted to give us, THAT is exactly what I wanted. But for some reason I thought it was going to be a girl. So it was a little bit of a shock to discover that I was now a "boy mom" and would have the raising of a little man to do. I think I would have felt more prepared if it had been a girl - first-hand experience and all. Diego was thrilled. There are not a lot of Paiva's - in fact he is the only male in his family line and now our baby boy would carry on the family name. Maybe this is archaic but I have always loved genealogy and I am so proud of my husband and his family that I am glad the Paiva line continues on another generation.
With the gender came a name: Sawyer Grant. We had of course talked through dozens of names but this one was something we both liked and we returned to it again again. It isn't a family name but I loved the meaning and connotations associated with it. First of all, it has that classic Americana spin, made famous by Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer. It brings to mind a simpler time in recent past when freckled-faced boys ran around barefoot with a cane fishing pole getting into mischief and having adventures in the outdoors. We wanted that simple, boyish thirst for fun and exploration to be a part of Sawyer's childhood. And I am a sucker for literary names, Mark Twain being an American treasure.
But second to that, more complicated to explain, is the meaning of the name itself. Sawyer is a craft name, a occupation name, literally meaning " he who saws wood" - it's similar to a Carter or Hunter or Taylor - these names used to tell you a lot about a person because their name was also the work that they did in society. I liked this because I do not want my son to be afraid or shy away from hard work. Honest, hard work is the mark of a real man who takes pride and responsibility with his strength and skill to contribute something useful to himself and others. He has great role-models in this as my dad is a skilled tradesman and spent many years of his life working in construction and carpentry and my father-in-law used his incredible, curious mind and talents to work as a hydroelectric engineer in Brasil. He will do well if he follows in the footsteps of his grandfathers. Not to mention his hard working Dad!
Finally, the fact that Sawyer means someone who is skilled with his hands and works with wood? Well, one day I will tell him the Story of how a simple, small-town Carpenter took on a wooden cross with his scarred hands and saved the whole world.
And his middle name? Grant. It is of Scottish origin (my maiden name, Chambers, is of Scottish lineage) and means "grand, tall or great." This seemed appropriate too as we have grand, tall and great dreams and hopes for Sawyer Grant's life and future. We began to pray even then that God would call him by name and that he would grow into a young boy and a young man who would become a friend of God. There can be no greater or grander or wilder or more wonderful adventure than knowing God personally and intimately. This is my most earnest prayer for my son: that no other joy or passion or love would ever be greater in his life than that of his friendship and fellowship with Christ. As Beth Moore is famous for saying, "There is no high, like the Most High." And she is right.
We decorated his nursery in deep navy blue with vintage airplanes. It is the sweetest little room and was all ready for him to arrive. We knew he would need to become a little world-traveler quickly to visit his grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins across the US and Brasil - so the airplanes were a playful nod to his traveling future.
The 2nd and 3rd Trimester flew by with some sweet surprise shower's for Sawyer from both Diego and I's coworkers. We were very blessed by the kindness of strangers in this sense as both of our families live miles and states and countries and hemispheres apart. We often feel isolated but God provided such sweet gifts and blessings to our little guy through our friends and coworkers and neighbors.
At some point all the planning and dreaming and waiting and expecting nears the end and for me, I was so ready to meet him but I did try to slow time a bit and savor these fleeting days where he and I were one. Where every little move and flutter of his limbs I felt and shared with him. It is a precious intimacy - to be joined like this. I can't help but be so grateful for the gift and miracle of pregnancy. How God would choose me to be his mother; to carry him and wait with him and shelter him and, very soon, to deliver him into this great, wide world. It has been my life's greatest privilege to become his Mother. And we were about to meet for the first time.
Part 4 to come...
The Christmas season was especially meaningful this past year as we celebrated our last holiday as a single couple. It was/is unfathomable to imagine how much different this Christmas will be with an extra stocking on the mantle and a baby rummaging around in all the gifts and wrapping paper. I was especially struck by the idea that God chose a young pregnant girl to present the world this magnificent gift and a little, innocent baby to save it. I remember thinking HOW did God the Father bare to sacrifice His only Son? I was a new mom and already experiencing the wild and feral protectiveness of my unborn child. I would be unable to do this - sacrifice myself? Yes. I think I could for a greater good (I hope I would) but my child? No. I don't think I would be that strong.
After the Holidays were past we went in for our 20 week ultrasound and got to see our little baby for the first time since the initial ultrasound to confirm pregnancy. We had heard the little heartbeat many times and each one was magical but to see the growth from the very beginning was incredible. God had been busy! Baby was perfect - beautifully formed and growing at a rate that astonishes me every time I consider that 20 weeks prior there was nothing and now there was the darling, active little baby soon very capable of sustaining life all on it's own. That is God's mysterious magic - to create something out of nothing.
We also found out the gender! Our baby was a healthy little boy! I had honestly not hoped for one gender over the other - whatever God wanted to give us, THAT is exactly what I wanted. But for some reason I thought it was going to be a girl. So it was a little bit of a shock to discover that I was now a "boy mom" and would have the raising of a little man to do. I think I would have felt more prepared if it had been a girl - first-hand experience and all. Diego was thrilled. There are not a lot of Paiva's - in fact he is the only male in his family line and now our baby boy would carry on the family name. Maybe this is archaic but I have always loved genealogy and I am so proud of my husband and his family that I am glad the Paiva line continues on another generation.
With the gender came a name: Sawyer Grant. We had of course talked through dozens of names but this one was something we both liked and we returned to it again again. It isn't a family name but I loved the meaning and connotations associated with it. First of all, it has that classic Americana spin, made famous by Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer. It brings to mind a simpler time in recent past when freckled-faced boys ran around barefoot with a cane fishing pole getting into mischief and having adventures in the outdoors. We wanted that simple, boyish thirst for fun and exploration to be a part of Sawyer's childhood. And I am a sucker for literary names, Mark Twain being an American treasure.
But second to that, more complicated to explain, is the meaning of the name itself. Sawyer is a craft name, a occupation name, literally meaning " he who saws wood" - it's similar to a Carter or Hunter or Taylor - these names used to tell you a lot about a person because their name was also the work that they did in society. I liked this because I do not want my son to be afraid or shy away from hard work. Honest, hard work is the mark of a real man who takes pride and responsibility with his strength and skill to contribute something useful to himself and others. He has great role-models in this as my dad is a skilled tradesman and spent many years of his life working in construction and carpentry and my father-in-law used his incredible, curious mind and talents to work as a hydroelectric engineer in Brasil. He will do well if he follows in the footsteps of his grandfathers. Not to mention his hard working Dad!
Finally, the fact that Sawyer means someone who is skilled with his hands and works with wood? Well, one day I will tell him the Story of how a simple, small-town Carpenter took on a wooden cross with his scarred hands and saved the whole world.
And his middle name? Grant. It is of Scottish origin (my maiden name, Chambers, is of Scottish lineage) and means "grand, tall or great." This seemed appropriate too as we have grand, tall and great dreams and hopes for Sawyer Grant's life and future. We began to pray even then that God would call him by name and that he would grow into a young boy and a young man who would become a friend of God. There can be no greater or grander or wilder or more wonderful adventure than knowing God personally and intimately. This is my most earnest prayer for my son: that no other joy or passion or love would ever be greater in his life than that of his friendship and fellowship with Christ. As Beth Moore is famous for saying, "There is no high, like the Most High." And she is right.
We decorated his nursery in deep navy blue with vintage airplanes. It is the sweetest little room and was all ready for him to arrive. We knew he would need to become a little world-traveler quickly to visit his grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins across the US and Brasil - so the airplanes were a playful nod to his traveling future.
The 2nd and 3rd Trimester flew by with some sweet surprise shower's for Sawyer from both Diego and I's coworkers. We were very blessed by the kindness of strangers in this sense as both of our families live miles and states and countries and hemispheres apart. We often feel isolated but God provided such sweet gifts and blessings to our little guy through our friends and coworkers and neighbors.
At some point all the planning and dreaming and waiting and expecting nears the end and for me, I was so ready to meet him but I did try to slow time a bit and savor these fleeting days where he and I were one. Where every little move and flutter of his limbs I felt and shared with him. It is a precious intimacy - to be joined like this. I can't help but be so grateful for the gift and miracle of pregnancy. How God would choose me to be his mother; to carry him and wait with him and shelter him and, very soon, to deliver him into this great, wide world. It has been my life's greatest privilege to become his Mother. And we were about to meet for the first time.
Part 4 to come...
Friday, August 26, 2016
A Journey Towards Motherhood Part 2
When I left you before I was just reeling and reviling in the news of becoming a new mother and the uncertainties and fears that naturally came as a result. This is one of those posts that don't make me look very good (do any of them?) and reveal many of my faults and shortcomings. I am learning it is all Greater Grace.
The first few weeks after our positive test I remember walking around with this secret, this special feeling of companionship knowing that I was now housing another precious little life. Despite what many believe about life and the miracle of conception there is a sense I experienced of just "knowing" that you are no longer alone. You can't feel baby there and honestly, for a few weeks there are no signs or symptoms but somehow I just knew.
It was confirmed pretty quickly from our first Dr's appointment when you pee in a cup and everything is official. They gave me loads of advice about what not to eat, what to eat, and a prescription for a HUGE bottle of prenatal vitamins. I had to laugh a little because we waited to have kids until 4+ years in our marriage and I was 32... not exactly young or inexperienced, so though we had never had a baby before and I had never been pregnant before the advice the Dr's give early on seemed so silly. The Dr actually told me it was still safe to shower and take baths normally? I think I just nodded my head. Of course it was. Had someone actually asked them if it was ok to shower? I guess enough young women had that it was covered in the first appointment!
As relieved as I was about being able to bathe normally for the duration of my pregnancy it wasn't long before I began to feel the other more physical sign of motherhood: sick.
Sick. As. A. Dog.
I have always joked, not really joking, that I would rather be cut open and have stitches then ever be sick to my stomach. I hate it. Really, really hate it. Having the stomach flu once, for almost 2 weeks, when I was 10 over Christmas break is a searing memory, one of the worst from my childhood. I was so sick I was never far from a bucket or my bed. I still will not eat the food I initially got sick on when I came down with that bug - Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Nope. Even now the sight of the box turns me a little green. So morning sickness was something I had feared and dreaded and hoped and prayed that somehow I would skip this stage.
Unfortunately not. I got sick and I stayed sick. It wasn't morning sickness, it was all day sickness. It was "call into work, can't get out of bed, use up all my sick leave" - sick. Beyond just the horrible nausea and vomiting were the food aversions and smells - every little smell grossed me out and sent me running for the bathroom. Normal things like my toothpaste and shampoo smelled SO bad that I had to look for another brand. Foods I loved were now intolerable to me and I became a very, very picky eater - nothing set well and even less stayed down.
At one point I was not keeping any fluids down or my meds and my OBGYN sent me to the hospital for dehydration. It was the sickest I have ever been.
The first few weeks after our positive test I remember walking around with this secret, this special feeling of companionship knowing that I was now housing another precious little life. Despite what many believe about life and the miracle of conception there is a sense I experienced of just "knowing" that you are no longer alone. You can't feel baby there and honestly, for a few weeks there are no signs or symptoms but somehow I just knew.
It was confirmed pretty quickly from our first Dr's appointment when you pee in a cup and everything is official. They gave me loads of advice about what not to eat, what to eat, and a prescription for a HUGE bottle of prenatal vitamins. I had to laugh a little because we waited to have kids until 4+ years in our marriage and I was 32... not exactly young or inexperienced, so though we had never had a baby before and I had never been pregnant before the advice the Dr's give early on seemed so silly. The Dr actually told me it was still safe to shower and take baths normally? I think I just nodded my head. Of course it was. Had someone actually asked them if it was ok to shower? I guess enough young women had that it was covered in the first appointment!
As relieved as I was about being able to bathe normally for the duration of my pregnancy it wasn't long before I began to feel the other more physical sign of motherhood: sick.
Sick. As. A. Dog.
I have always joked, not really joking, that I would rather be cut open and have stitches then ever be sick to my stomach. I hate it. Really, really hate it. Having the stomach flu once, for almost 2 weeks, when I was 10 over Christmas break is a searing memory, one of the worst from my childhood. I was so sick I was never far from a bucket or my bed. I still will not eat the food I initially got sick on when I came down with that bug - Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Nope. Even now the sight of the box turns me a little green. So morning sickness was something I had feared and dreaded and hoped and prayed that somehow I would skip this stage.
Unfortunately not. I got sick and I stayed sick. It wasn't morning sickness, it was all day sickness. It was "call into work, can't get out of bed, use up all my sick leave" - sick. Beyond just the horrible nausea and vomiting were the food aversions and smells - every little smell grossed me out and sent me running for the bathroom. Normal things like my toothpaste and shampoo smelled SO bad that I had to look for another brand. Foods I loved were now intolerable to me and I became a very, very picky eater - nothing set well and even less stayed down.
At one point I was not keeping any fluids down or my meds and my OBGYN sent me to the hospital for dehydration. It was the sickest I have ever been.
And I am ashamed to say I felt very sorry for myself. I was so sick and so miserable and so nauseous that I couldn't think of anything else. I remember thinking: how do people with chronic pain or illness endure this? I mean, to be very honest, I think the only thing that kept me somewhat sane was that it was a temporary condition. If I knew I had to LIVE like this for the rest of my life? Well, again, I am ashamed to find that I don't think I would be strong enough or brave enough for that. I actually became quite depressed and nothing seemed to lift my mood. I just couldn't think about anything else except how sick I was.
So I was a mess. A whining, complaining, unpleasant mess. Diego was so very kind and patient with me. He ate by himself for almost 2 months as the smell of food and the sight of food made me sick. He did all the grocery shopping, all the cooking, and even ate in our dining room alone for weeks and weeks. He was a constant encouragement and a rock to me at my lowest and most depressed.
On our way to Orlando, Florida to celebrate our 4th Anniversary (October 15th) he finally had a heart to heart with me about my mood and my complaining. It was a very brave thing to do and I will never forget that conversation. It's more about how he handled it than exactly what he said. He reminded me that God had given us this gift, a gift of a child that many long and pray for and then wait and wait. He reminded me that God was good even in suffering and that everything He allows in our life is for some greater, larger purpose. He was honest with me but he was so kind.
I wish I could say that I took his words to heart and had a complete change of attitude overnight but that wasn't the case. I would continue to feel wretchedly sick, even on meds though they helped a lot, until Thanksgiving. I so wish I could go back over and do the 1st Trimester differently. Be more grateful. Be more patient with myself and the pregnancy process.
Do you ever just want SO badly to be good at something? To have it come naturally? I was confident for some reason prior to pregnancy that I would be "good" at being pregnant - I mean I really loved kids and I was a healthy young woman - why wouldn't this be easy for me? I have found nothing more humbling in all of my 33 years as that 1st Trimester of pregnancy. It was a brutal reminder that this motherhood journey was one I was ON not one I was in control of...
Thankfully, looking back now I can see a tremendous amount of work God did in my heart during this season of sickness. He removed a lot of pride. A lot. He made me dependent on my spouse in a way I had not been in our entire relationship. I really leaned on Diego for everything and as a result it made me so much more appreciative and grateful for him later on. God changed my expectations of this picture-perfect family into one that sure looked a lot more real and a lot more authentic. It was hard work but so needed.
It was clear to me that I would have to let go of my attempts to control the situation and just be led through it by my Faithful, Loving Father who really did have my best interest at heart.
Part 3 to come.
Thursday, August 11, 2016
A Journey Towards Motherhood
This is my birth story from start to finish. It has been months in the making and I am still processing all that I have learned and experienced. As usual, it helps me to write it out. This blog is more "journal" then I ever intended but it is honest, it is genuine and I pray it blesses any who read.
The Journey Begins
This time last year we decided that it was time to begin expanding our little family. We had just built/purchased our first home and were no longer renters but home owners, we both were established with our new jobs, healthy and happy and in a good place in our marriage; we felt ready. In short, the timing seemed right.
I had no idea the journey that was ahead of us.
I can't say exactly what I expected to happen when we began to "try" for a baby. I guess I assumed it took a while. We were both in our early 30's and the biological clock was ticking. My family Dr had asked on more than one occasion if children were in our future. So I thought we had a few months at least. We didn't.
Our first month I was feeling... odd. Breast tenderness, emotional, and off balance. I thought I was gearing up for my monthly cycle but it didn't quite feel the same. I decided to take a pregnancy test but I had already convinced myself it was negative. You don't get pregnant that quickly, right?
Wrong.
I was stunned. I think I stared at that stick for 2 minutes. And then in shock stumbled out to the bedroom and unceremoniously handed the test over to my husband and blurted, "we're pregnant." No cutsie announcement, no romance, no Pinterest craft to surprise him and try to make it special - just pure shock. And a few tears. Happy tears but tears.
The shock wore off quickly but the feeling of otherworldly, this can't-be-happening, is-this-really-true continued on for several days. We were so happy. But I began to have my first true emotion of motherhood. This is THE emotion that has characterized my motherhood journey so far: self-doubt. It hit me like a Mack truck - what have we done? We're we really ready for this? This was no longer a hypothetical scenario - the pink lines proved it, baby was on the way and suddenly, something I had wanted for so long seemed so scary and powerful and frightening.
I doubted myself. In every way possible. Would I be a good enough mom? Nurturing enough? Patient enough? How about my "ability" as a woman? Would I be able to nourish and sustain this fragile life inside me for 9 months? Would I be tough enough for childbirth? Was I ready to put all of "me" aside for someone else?
Closely on the heels of self-doubt comes the 2nd emotion of true motherhood: fear. Paralyzing fear that some harm will come to the baby. That you might lose the baby. That it seems too good to be true and you find yourself braced for the other shoe to drop. It is difficult because it is so impossibly outside the realm of our control as mothers, as women. We like to think that we can eat the right foods, take our vitamins, stay hydrated and rested and baby will be fine. I am old enough and wise enough to know that life seldom works like that. Tragedy, illness, and loss touch everyone at some point indiscriminately. And it never seems fair. So I battled fear in enormous doses. Praying constantly that HE who had created this life would continue to sustain it.
Looking back now I can see that doubt and fear must be early hallmarks of motherhood. They are the scars that all moms wear, visible and invisible, as a rite of passage. They are the indication that you have something priceless at stake, something irreplaceable.
I wish someone had told me this. That joy and love are the essence of a mom but so too are doubt and fear. And I suspect that I will do battle with these emotions for the rest of my existence as a mother. As my son grows my doubts and fears will change and evolve and shift but they will follow me. It is hard work to be a mom. It is hard work to trust even in a good God, who is Himself a Father. I find myself readjusting constantly back into active faith - choosing to trust. Falling into what I cannot control, headfirst - believing that whatever the outcome God will still be good, still be in control, still be God. It is the only peace I've found.
So there I was, newly pregnant, barely a mother and yet baptized into the flood of emotions, the tidal wave of joy and fear, love and doubt. I could sense then what has become real to me now - I would not make it through this journey of motherhood the same as I started. I truly believe that the most powerful work God has done in my heart, to-date, He plans to accomplish in this season. I pray I rise to the occasion, not with perfection but with faith.
Part 2 to come.
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Disney World Dreaming
In honor of our upcoming trip to Disney World next week I thought I'd try to put into words why, at 31 years of age and no kids of my own, I am still such a Disney fan. I have been asked this at times by my peers who have long since outgrown Mickey Mouse and fairy tales and magic and I had no good answer in response. It's a fun place? I have great memories there? You never outgrow a good story? All of these are true but they're not the entire truth. So here we go...
I had completely wonderful, practically-perfect parents who made some normal mistakes (like any human is prone to do) but one they never made was to undervalue family memories and time together. So from a very yearly age they invested in family vacations. Disney World was one of those. I have vivid memories of pushing my brother in a stroller down Main Street - so I couldn't have been much more than 5 or 6 years old myself when we first started going. And it became a truly special place for us. The wonder of Cinderella's castle, the magic of your first ride on "It's a Small World," experiencing your first roller-coaster on Space Mountain after finally being tall enough, and the nightly splendor of a firework show that will spoil you for life were just some of the many memories we made together. We have album after album of photos recalling rides, dinners, water parks, character breakfasts, meet and greets, and so many tired/happy smiles - year after year after year. You can see us grow up if you were to look through the photos. A little older, a little less silly - growing up but not growing apart. This is key. Something about the shared memories, the shared magic kept us connected even through the rocky teenage years when siblings typically want nothing to do with each other. We LOVED being there together - Mom and Dad would turn the three of us kids loose and we'd explore all the parks together with our friends. We were a family but we were also friends - and believe me that's a choice you get to make. And I highly recommend it.
Because life gets messy. It gets sad and busy and tricky and yes, bad things happen to the heroes in every story. My parents fell on hard times financially and Disney World quickly went from being an every year trip to somehow, before we knew it, an entire decade would pass before we would return. Bryan, the bouncy-blonde kid in the stroller would get hurt in war and I would find myself pushing him in a wheelchair down a hospital hall instead of Main Street. Jen would grow up the fastest of all of us and become a busy mother to 4 of her own babies in the blink of an eye and she would need so much help with those sweeties (what mom doesn't with four?). And then Mom got breast cancer and had to have major surgery and she would heal but find herself so painfully changed. And Dad - the joyful, laughter-giving young man of my childhood would fight his own demons of depression and failure and grief. While I waited and waited and waited for most of my 20's for my prince to arrive - growing increasingly less hopeful he ever would.
This is when you'll want those memories.
This is when you will be glad you chose those beautiful, broken people as friends not just family. Because you will need them. And they will need you. And you'll want memories of a happier time to give you hope and to keep you going. To remind you that dreams do come true and happily-ever-after's are the ultimate end-game in Christ's kingdom. That good wins. And life throws curveballs AND second chances. That some stories are worth telling and retelling, again and again.
I went back to Disney World with my prince for our 1st year Anniversary after a decade of being out of Disney World. It was surreal. Everywhere I looked I "saw" my family. At the Haunted Mansion, The Tower of Terror, Typhoon Lagoon, and I swear I heard Dad laughing down Splash Mountain. And here I was with my own husband who, as God would have it, had also been visiting with his family from half a world away in Brasil as a kid, who also has remarkable family memories in Disney World. So for all of our cultural differences we share this place in our hearts. And we dream of taking our own children there someday, to see their faces light up with joy and wonder.
Next week we will (most all of us) meet up in Orlando for a big family vacation - Jen and her husband and all those precious kiddos (the oldest just turned 13!) and Mom and Dad and even my grandparents are joining us! 4 generations reuniting in one family trip! I can hardly believe it - how far we've come since those wide-eyed, innocent days as kids. We've come back around: full circle.
Even Walt Disney couldn't have imagined a story as grand and magical and powerful and beautiful as God's great redeeming love for us. His faithful goodness and mercy that follows after us all the days of our lives. Until we are home, happily-ever-after.
I had completely wonderful, practically-perfect parents who made some normal mistakes (like any human is prone to do) but one they never made was to undervalue family memories and time together. So from a very yearly age they invested in family vacations. Disney World was one of those. I have vivid memories of pushing my brother in a stroller down Main Street - so I couldn't have been much more than 5 or 6 years old myself when we first started going. And it became a truly special place for us. The wonder of Cinderella's castle, the magic of your first ride on "It's a Small World," experiencing your first roller-coaster on Space Mountain after finally being tall enough, and the nightly splendor of a firework show that will spoil you for life were just some of the many memories we made together. We have album after album of photos recalling rides, dinners, water parks, character breakfasts, meet and greets, and so many tired/happy smiles - year after year after year. You can see us grow up if you were to look through the photos. A little older, a little less silly - growing up but not growing apart. This is key. Something about the shared memories, the shared magic kept us connected even through the rocky teenage years when siblings typically want nothing to do with each other. We LOVED being there together - Mom and Dad would turn the three of us kids loose and we'd explore all the parks together with our friends. We were a family but we were also friends - and believe me that's a choice you get to make. And I highly recommend it.
Because life gets messy. It gets sad and busy and tricky and yes, bad things happen to the heroes in every story. My parents fell on hard times financially and Disney World quickly went from being an every year trip to somehow, before we knew it, an entire decade would pass before we would return. Bryan, the bouncy-blonde kid in the stroller would get hurt in war and I would find myself pushing him in a wheelchair down a hospital hall instead of Main Street. Jen would grow up the fastest of all of us and become a busy mother to 4 of her own babies in the blink of an eye and she would need so much help with those sweeties (what mom doesn't with four?). And then Mom got breast cancer and had to have major surgery and she would heal but find herself so painfully changed. And Dad - the joyful, laughter-giving young man of my childhood would fight his own demons of depression and failure and grief. While I waited and waited and waited for most of my 20's for my prince to arrive - growing increasingly less hopeful he ever would.
This is when you'll want those memories.
This is when you will be glad you chose those beautiful, broken people as friends not just family. Because you will need them. And they will need you. And you'll want memories of a happier time to give you hope and to keep you going. To remind you that dreams do come true and happily-ever-after's are the ultimate end-game in Christ's kingdom. That good wins. And life throws curveballs AND second chances. That some stories are worth telling and retelling, again and again.
I went back to Disney World with my prince for our 1st year Anniversary after a decade of being out of Disney World. It was surreal. Everywhere I looked I "saw" my family. At the Haunted Mansion, The Tower of Terror, Typhoon Lagoon, and I swear I heard Dad laughing down Splash Mountain. And here I was with my own husband who, as God would have it, had also been visiting with his family from half a world away in Brasil as a kid, who also has remarkable family memories in Disney World. So for all of our cultural differences we share this place in our hearts. And we dream of taking our own children there someday, to see their faces light up with joy and wonder.
Next week we will (most all of us) meet up in Orlando for a big family vacation - Jen and her husband and all those precious kiddos (the oldest just turned 13!) and Mom and Dad and even my grandparents are joining us! 4 generations reuniting in one family trip! I can hardly believe it - how far we've come since those wide-eyed, innocent days as kids. We've come back around: full circle.
Even Walt Disney couldn't have imagined a story as grand and magical and powerful and beautiful as God's great redeeming love for us. His faithful goodness and mercy that follows after us all the days of our lives. Until we are home, happily-ever-after.
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