Living in the In-Between

I love watching my oldest kids growing into adults.  For too long, I was focused on what I was losing - my dependent child, gathered physically under my protective wings.  And don't get me wrong, letting go of that is HARD stuff.  I'm so grateful that I still have seven more kiddos to go, and I can't imagine what I'll feel when my last little ones approach that season.  But as the sadness recedes, I'm left with a sense of wonder, and a need to communicate the beauty of this season to my children.

Seasons of transition are hard.  Sometimes we have hour-plus conversations on how hard it is be in the "waiting period" of life - working towards a future that seems distant and somewhat hazy, but beguiling and enchanting.  In my new "advisory" role, as a parent of an adult child, I find myself dispensing sage truisms about keeping focused on the day-to-day and finding joy in the seemingly never-ending college days.  Ah, but then I realize I must preach those same things to myself every day.  How I need to be reminded most days!

Modern life often seems like a hamster-wheel of racing from one checkpoint to another. Life will TRULY begin after high school, after college, after getting a job, after buying a house, after marriage, after starting a family, after completing a family, after your last child leaves the nest, after retirement, after you get to the mission field.  And those are all potentially good and wonderful things.  God made us, unique amongst his earthly creation, with the ability to dream and plan  But how easily, in our corruptible earthly bodies, are our eyes and hearts turned away from The One Who Knows All Things as we ask him to proverbially hold our jackets while we get to work and that once we've just Arrived, we will be ready for him.  Of course, that's a lie, and a most dangerous one indeed.  We've arrived the moment we were given a regenerate heart! None of this human striving makes us one whit more precious in his sight.  And too often, if you are anything like me, the striving serves as a mighty fine distraction at best and at worst, a source of a low, but steady grumbling spirit that destroys joy.

Instead, sisters (and brothers too, although I do think this is often a weakness that women are uniquely drawn to) let us focus our hearts and minds on Jesus Christ and treasure his Gospel story above all other things.  Determine to know Jesus Christ and Him crucified every single day.  Let that be the water that slakes every thirst, the milk that nourishes your soul, and the wine that you delight in.

Photo Source

Introducing Baby Boaz

Our precious eighth child and fourth son, Boaz Laurent, arrived on Friday, April 14th at 3:24 pm.  He weighed in at 8lbs 3oz and was 20.5 inches long.  His birth story began on Thursday evening.  I finished up my last teaching appointment before starting my maternity leave at 7:30pm.  At 8:30 I felt like I just needed to take a walk.  It was getting dark and it was pretty cold, but I felt like it was a good idea.  After a 30 minute walk, I felt restless but settled into bed and felt drowsy enough to put down my book and try to go to sleep.  That wasn't happening though, and as 11:00 approached I felt increasingly restless and uncomfortable and decided to take a shower just in case.  I felt like maybe this was going to be the night...  And then I fell asleep.  Well, that was disappointing.  But around 4:00 I woke up again to some painful contractions.  I woke James up at that point and the contractions persisted for a good hour, about 7-8 minutes apart.  We called my doctor's answering service and they suggested going to Labor & Delivery, but shortly afterwards, the contractions fizzled back out.  So, at 5:30 James and I headed out for another 30 minute walk in the neighborhood, this time in the light rain.  That kept them going for a while, but again they faded out, so we got the kids ready for school and decided we could just head to my scheduled 9:20 appointment and speak to my OB.  We packed up our hospital bags just in case and headed downtown.  At our appointment, oh glorious news - I'd made progress from 2.5 centimeters dilated last week to 4 centimeters.  That, combined with my sporadic contractions and bloody show, was enough for my OB to say the magic words "Why don't you head on over to Labor & Delivery and I'll meet you there during my lunch break?".  We were SO excited - this was exactly how I hoped this baby's delivery would go, slow and controlled.  So, we went across the street to the hospital, got checked in and the IV started (no 30 minute drama this time, she got it in right away, which was crucial if I was to get the epidural I so wanted this time) and moved from triage to our room.  Contractions were sporadic and weak, so we walked the halls for an hour or so.  After that, my OB popped in and asked if I was open to her breaking my water and I said absolutely.  As soon as that happened (about 1:00), the contractions started almost immediately.  I asked for and received a perfect epidural within 30 minutes of true labor starting (yay!).  Unfortunately, at that point, my perfect labor took a bit of a detour.  Baby wasn't responding favorably to my contractions.  He showed serious decels through the duration of every contraction - his heart rate getting down into the 50s.  His recovery after the contractions was good, but it was easy to see that, as shifting positions didn't help, the room was getting a bit tense.  After about an hour and a half of this, I begin to feel real fear, something I've never experienced during a birth.  I remember praying hard - promising God that I no longer cared if they had to do a c-section, even under general anesthesia, none of that mattered so long as my baby was fine.  Fortunately, my doctor has a very calm personality, and prevented me from panicking too much.  She did, however, want me to start pushing a bit prematurely (I was about 9 centimeters) and get the baby delivered.  That's how I knew that, although the staff was all very reassuring, they were concerned.  The pushing was intense, moreso than some other labors.  I had to work really hard this time!  After about 20 minutes, the OB called for the vacuum (baby was just super displeased about this whole process).  But I was finally able to get him under the pelvic bone on my own, and pushed him out about 5 minutes later all on my own. The epidural did wear off during that phase, so I was so lucky (haha) to get to experience the whole ring of fire again.  He came out much more purple than any of my other babies, and his apgar scores were the lowest too, a 7 and an 8.  You could tell the whole process of labor and birth was difficult on him.  He was born with a nuchal cord (cord wrapped around the neck), which is pretty common and usually not much of a problem, but in his case, it absolutely was a problem - it had been badly compressed during every contraction, especially as he moved down.  I'm so grateful that this was not my first baby, because it would have ended in a true emergency c-section because I wouldn't have been able to have the fast labor that I had.  I can see in all of this story so clearly the hand of the Lord.  He ordained that I would have a weird labor pattern of fitful stops and starts that has never happened before.  He knew that Boaz needed to be born now, and that he needed to be born in a controlled but fast manner.  As I write this, I tear up a little still, one month later, out of gratitude for God's goodness that brought this much-loved baby into the world safe and sound.  He is good, always.

How I Keep My House Tidy Without Going Crazy

This is a paraphrase of Romans 12:13, but it's a good one, I think

I feel a bit strange to be writing this, because I'm far from a master housekeeper. In fact, I would say I'm just very average.  I prefer an organized, tidy space, but I'm not super fussy about details.  But I've had people ask me before how I keep my house mostly clean, most of the time, and I finally decided that maybe an average person can be a good resource for most of us.  First of all, routine is super important to having a clean house more often than not.  If I get thrown out of my routine, my house is NOT going to stay tidy, and will require a more time and energy intensive cleaning at some point.  And those days are not my favorite.  So, I mostly try to do the same things on a rotating basis, especially during the weekdays, when my schedule is quite predictable.  For me, there's a magical time when I'm most motivated and most productive.  I think most of us probably have that period.  Mine falls between when I get home from dropping the older kids off at school until lunch time (8:30-11:30).  So, that's the time I have to tackle the house, baking, and most of my other chores/responsibilities.  Many days I can just dive right in, but on the days I'm lacking discipline, I resort to ye old Timer method.  It works for kids, and I think it works for adults too.  I force myself to stop the "fun" stuff (whether that's being online or reading) and set my kitchen timer for just 10 minutes, and turn on some music.  I start in one corner of my kitchen and work my way around.  I can usually finish up the kitchen in that first 10 minutes, but there's something strange about at least getting started to me - more often than not I regain my motivation and finish up a full tidy of my lower level.  I might just go for it all at once, or I might do a 10 and 10 minute mashup of rotating cleaning interspersed with 10 minutes of leisure time.  And let me tell you, it feels SO good to have that clean-enough house.  It's not pristine.  With 9 (soon to be 10) people living in this home, and a busy and full life, that's just not even something I particularly desire.  But it's homey and inviting, and I'm never ashamed to open my door to an unexpected visitor (which is such a biblical but unWestern concept).  I'll share a few photos, taken just today after my morning sweep that shows what I mean in terms of "livable, hospitable tidiness".  If I can do it, you can do it too!

Music Room - the room our front door opens into.  As you can see, there's still work in progress - some ironed clothing on one chair that I'm in the process of taking pictures of in order to list in my eBay store (I do this twice a year, so it's not a normal thing, but you know what, right now it's what I'm working on, and that's nothing I need to be ashamed about)

Kitchen - Again, it's lived in.  Everything is put in its place, but there are some sticky notes on the counter that have the kids' chores written on them and a bowl of cornflakes that some unknown child poured but didn't eat that will stay on the counter for said culprit's afternoon snack

This is the dining room.  It's not swept (sweeping is a never-ending chore because of our dark wood floors that is more difficult at 8 months pregnant, so it doesn't always happen and I can live with that) and there are boy shoes at the door into the backyard, but the table top is cleaned off, which is big to me - I don't like anything on the table if we aren't eating

Living Room - This room right now looks the most "lived in".  Today is boys' laundry day.  So, one sofa is my laundry station.  There's also some stacks of clothes that are outgrown but need to be put out in storage in the garage up by the tv and some clothes that need to be ironed.  Again, this is a working house, so that's okay!

Office/Playroom - This room unabashedly is a home for the kids, with toys and books.  They all have a storage place, and I try to keep them in there multiple times a day (the kids do too), but I wouldn't have been frantic if some were on the floor either.  The table you can partially see has folded clothes on it that is waiting to be listed on eBay.  Again, it's a workspace, and it's tidy, but there's stuff there waiting to be done. 

A(nother) Big Announcement!

It's the week of big announcements for The Merry Band of Fife!  First we publicly announced that we are blessed to be expecting our eighth baby in April.  As if that isn't big enough, we have another huge announcement - we are stepping out in faith and will become full-time missionaries as of October 1st, 2016!  We noticed a trend as we returned from Candidate class in July.  As much as we were on fire for the Lord in this new capacity of missions, it was just so hard to balance secular jobs, family, and ministry.  We weren't getting as much accomplished as we wanted to - we had grand plans to have multiple face-to-face meetings scheduled beginning in August, but we hadn't had time to schedule a single one.  And so, the Lord made it abundantly clear to James that he was calling us, not this summer, not in a few months, to full-time ministry NOW.  It took me a little bit to process, but now I'm ready to step out with him, hand-in-hand, and we are SO excited to make this next step.  If you would keep us in our prayers as we step into deep waters, relying on His providence and guidance, we would sure appreciate it.  Our God is a great and mighty god!

There IS an "I" in Missionary, But There Shouldn't Be

We've only been in this entire process, from application to Candidate Seminar to Pre-Field Ministry for six months, but one thing is crystal clear.  There's no I in missionary work.  Literally, none of this happens without a huge supporting and sending structure.  From the big (financial supporters, ABWE infrastructure, prayer warriors, and so on) to the seemingly small (graphic design help, childcare assistance, an encouraging note here on our website or on Facebook), missions work is all about the body of Christ working together.  This week is a special week - we will be placing our order for our very first set of Prayer Cards.  And that couldn't have happened without the generous assistance of our church friend, who not only took beautiful photos, but presented us with a CD full of various photos AND a lovely portrait of us to hang on our wall.  This journey to the field is not just about changing the lives of the people we meet and minister to along the way, but it's just as much about changing OUR hearts.  Every new experience is a stretching and growing in the knowledge of the love of Jesus Christ and a hunger to serve him and the sheep for whom He died.

The Most Important Quality in a Wife

I said wife, simply because that's what I am, but I bet my husband would say that it applies to him too.  I'm not a perfect wife, and I don't have a perfect marriage, but in our 18 years together, I think that I have had the privilege of learning a few things as we've weathered the normal ups and downs of "happily ever after".  I don't know if it's just me, but washing dishes is my place of "aha" moments and I had one this week - I truly think that the character trait that the Lord has been gracious to grow and stretch me in that has benefited our marriage most is forgiveness.  Through no merit of my own (I've got a pretty quick trigger temper, combined with an mulish tendency towards stubbornness), I always find my heart softened and open towards my spouse a few short hours after a conflict.  And it's really not dependent upon his actions; it's a desire for inner peace with the Lord and a big dose of empathy - being able to see things through his perspective and understand why he does the things he does, for better or for worse.

One of my favorite parables about forgiveness: Matthew 18:21-35

The Parable of the Unmerciful Servant

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times should I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?"

Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy seven times.

"Therefore the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand bags of gold was brought to him. Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.
At this the servant fell on his knees before him.  'Be patient with me', he begged, 'and I will pay back everything.' The servant's master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go.
"But when the servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred silver coins. He grabbed him and began to choke him. 'Pay back what you owe me!' he demanded.
"His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay it back.'
"But he refused. Instead he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. When the other servants saw what had happened, they were outraged and went and told their master everything that had happened.
"Then the master called the servant in, 'You wicked servant,' he said, 'I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?' In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.
"This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart."

Houston, We Have Recovered

I have a love/hate relationship with camping.  I think it's so, so good for the family and leaves your children with tons of memories to carry them through the years.  I grew up camping A LOT, and while I certainly complained (at times quite vociferously) as a teen, now I look back at those family bonding moments with great fondness.  But here's one secret that no one tells you as a kid: camping as a mom is a whole other ballgame.  It's so much work, from the moment of planning, through preparation, through execution, and then, to add insult to injury, the clean up is epic.  I also am a bit of an overachiever in terms of post-camping clean up, so that doesn't help.  Everything has to be washed, scrubbed, and decontaminated after we arrive back home.  I even wash camping toys, backpacks, and shoes.  It's just a thing for me.  So, the process of recuperating sometimes takes up to a week.  But I think I made a personal best this camping trip - everything was washed and put neatly back away in their respective places by last night.  That includes every pillow, every duvet, every sleeping bag (I've got a LOT of sleeping bags to wash), every towel, every utensil, every.thing.  All loaded into bins and put away on the garage shelves so that my garage floor does not look like an American Ninja Warrior obstacle course.  Life is good.  Or I have a bit of a problem.  Maybe both?  I wouldn't argue with you there... :)

A Little Preview from our "Dreadful" Night ;P

Oh my, look what a fantastic job our photographer did last night?!  She was so excited to share with us that she messaged me one of the finished photos last night already.  I can't wait to see the rest.  We are so blessed to have brothers and sisters in Christ that invest with their time, TALENT, and treasure in our family and in God's work.

Photo Courtesy of Mrs. A. Bourn

Dreading Today

Well now, that sounds awfully dramatic.  And I'm being a whiny baby, admittedly, but today is family photo day.  Ugh.  I loathe family photo day.  It's so stressful.  Don't get me wrong, I'm beyond appreciative that a lovely sister in Christ has graciously agreed to photograph our family so that we may have a current photo for our Prayer Cards.  But I'm dreading the actual photo-taking process like no other.  I'm not a big fan of photos of myself, period, but factor in trying to deal with having nine people needing to look somewhat presentable and looking in the same direction with some semblance of a smile is enough to make the bravest of parents tremble.  Oh, and how tempted was I to put this off when I checked the weather forecast and saw that it's going to be a balmy 99 degrees at precisely the time we're going to be at our outdoor photo shoot?  And we have to drive 20 minutes in our picture best in our non-air conditioned van for said photo?  All I can wonder is - can you edit out sweat stains?  Here's hoping.

Our last family photo - November 2014.  Trust me, if this wasn't missing a child, it would SO be going on our prayer cards, no matter how long ago it was.  :)

Back to School Shopping

I LOATHE back to school shopping,  Which is funny in some ways, because I remember it being kind of the highlight of the summer for me when I was a kid.  Mom and I would go to ShopKo, where I would get some super cool duds, like a shirt that said NOT! on it in neon colors.  And then Walmart came into town and I scored a pair of black chunky heel loafers (hello, layaway!) in addition to the practical stuff.  Well, that romanticism has not lingered past the first few years of back-to-school shopping.  Now it's a necessary evil, something I tend to put off until the last few days before school starts, so that I can join the equally grumpy parents bemoaning the lack of colored pencils and glue sticks at Fred Meyer.  The fact that I will have THREE kids in Junior High and High School does not help on the budget - those registration days are expensive!  But school, blessed school, you are worth it.  Routines, quiet days, a baby that can FINALLY nap without being woken up, no one to referee between except for the pets, quiet days, only one tiny human to clean up after, did I mention QUIET DAYS!

Our Very First Partner!

Today calls for a celebration of the goodness and faithfulness of the Lord - we have our very first support partner on this journey.  Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation! Oh my soul praise Him for he is my Rock and Salvation!

Also, both James and I were blessed this morning by our brothers and sisters in Christ - James by being given the opportunity to tag along with one of our pastors on a hospital chaplain visit and share a psalm that he picked after much studying and praying last night, and me by an encouraging email sent by one of our Sending Team and Prayer Partners.  I'm sure she won't mind if I copy it here, as perhaps it will bless someone else as it blessed me today--

Good morning, 

As I read this verse in Hebrews this morning, I thought of you.

May the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

Hebrews 13:20-21

Praying this for you today!

We're Officially Missionaries!

The tenor of our blog is changing - there will still be newsy family updates, and personal musings, but mostly I'd like this to become a blog about our ministry.  We are officially missionaries now, appointed by ABWE to serve in North Togo.  We are in pre-field right now, which is a ministry focused on raising team partners, spiritually and financially.  The thought of pre-field is daunting, as someone who is so uncomfortable with asking others for assistance.  Thankfully we were given a bible study to complete regarding partner raising for missions work, and it is so helpful to know that asking and allowing others to join with you in God's work is biblical!  I will admit though, knowing that in my heart and expressing it outwardly is two different things.  I pray daily for boldness, and might I make my first prayer request here for courage and endurance during this time of early pre-field ministry?  

When God Says No

The resistance to the word No in response to your desire manifests itself at a very young age, doesn't it?  It's one of the first signs of a toddler's growing independence.  Unfortunately, it's something that you never completely mature out of, even as an adult.  Some times, when God says No, it's fairly easy to understand why - perhaps that financial windfall would have led to a sense of pride, or that A on a test that you didn't study for would encourage your tendency towards procrastination and lack of self-discipline.  But the hardest Nos to hear are when you desire a good thing.  I recently went through a miscarriage that tore my heart up.  As soon as I began to sense that things were not going normally, I fell to my knees in serious prayer - asking God for a miracle, desperately asking that he might allow me to keep the baby that I already loved and wanted.  These fervent prayers and frantic pleas lasted for days.  The utter stillness and quiet tormented me.  Eventually, though, God provided an answer, and that answer was No.  I don't understand why, right now, and my heart still hurts.  But what I do know, and what I hold onto, is to be found in the Word of the Lord.

For I know the plans I have for you, " declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11

Graeme's Birth Story

I so wanted to have this put down in writing, but I didn't want to actually do it.  How's that for not making sense? lol  But my need to document things outweighed my laziness, so here it is (drumroll, please): Graeme Paul's Birth Story

My seventh pregnancy was incredibly easy and blissful.  It was problem and nearly-symptom free, despite being Advanced Maternal Age.  Until the last three weeks.  It was still problem free, from a medical perspective, but I totally lost it.  I think that Elle's early birth at 38 weeks made me erroneously assume that this little guy would also arrive before his due date.  That mindset made the days, as I hit and passed 38 weeks, then 39 weeks, and then my due date, feel interminably long.  Even though I knew in my head that it wouldn't last forever and it would seem like no big deal after he finally arrived, whenever that would be, my emotions got the best of me.  I was so miserable, and on top of that, I felt guilty for feeling miserable because baby and I were healthy.  I just wanted to go into hiding as October 2nd (my EDD) came and went.  My OB did not want me to go past 41 weeks, and, after a lot of back and forth, at 40 weeks 4 days, I did something I had promised myself I would never do again.  I was so desperate that I decided to try the Castor Oil (dun, dun, duuun).  I had used it before with Ian, and it had (maybe, obviously you can never be 100% sure) worked.  There were definitely unpleasant side effects, but I went into labor a few hours after I took it.  So, I threw my better judgement to the wind, but somewhat cautiously, only opting for a small dose at about 10am on Tuesday, October 6th, hoping that at least it'd make me dilate or efface a bit more for my 2:00 OB appointment.  After swigging down 1 ounce of castor oil mixed with orange juice, I waited.  And was met with crickets.  It didn't really do anything.  I gave up, frustrated, and consigned myself to making my first "overdue" OB appointment.  Pretty quickly after climbing into bed for my afternoon nap around 12:30 I started feeling sick to my stomach.  Ah, the dreaded castor oil had finally worked its evil magic.  I visited the restroom several times and feared for the drive down to my OB's office (would I be able to make it without pit stops?).  James arrived to pick me up at about 1:00 and off we went, with a planned stop necessary for James to do some work on the way to my appointment, we headed off around 1:15 or so.  About ten minutes into our drive, a contraction hit.  Now, I'd been having contractions for weeks, sometimes even rhythmical for a while, so I didn't put too much stock in it.  Plus it was short, only about 30 seconds, tops.  About 3 to 4 minutes later, another contraction hit, slightly stronger.  And so it continued, extremely patterned, and progressively stronger, for the next 15 minutes or so.  He stopped at his work stop and those minutes he was inside their office felt like forever.  At that point, it was time to turn around and lean over the truck seat.  When James came back out and saw that I had assumed the "position", he made a call to my OB's office, who instructed us to skip the appointment and go straight to Labor and Delivery.  Then he made a second call to my doula, who would meet us at the hospital.  The 15 minute drive to the hospital took forever.  The pains were already very intense, but I remember thinking that it probably looked funny to everyone driving down State Street to see the woman kneeling on the front seat and moaning (did we hit every possible stoplight?  it felt like it).  At about 2:00, we finally arrived in the hospital and the walk from the parking garage into the hospital and through the main lobby and up to the second floor was hard - I hate not being in control and I wasn't completely in control at that point and I was crying because of the pain (and I had to use the restroom again).  We were immediately admitted into a triage room and they checked me and I was 5cm dilated and 100% effaced - definitely in labor.  And, at that point, the pain subsided a bit, and I worried that I would have to have some augmentation.  But no worries, after a 30 minute stay in the triage area, I was led to my room, and labor shifted into high gear quickly.  I was required to have a heplock, as a VBAC patient, and my veins are tricky.  Which meant that it took three different nurses about 6 attempts in multiple places on both arms another 30 minutes, while I'm in very active labor, to try and get the IV in.  After blowing up some veins and leaving me with some spectacular bruises, success!, although it had to be placed on top of my hand, unfortunately.  I was handling labor well at this point, standing up, with the support of James and my doula.  But my legs were trembling and felt very tired, so we had to move to some different positions.  This proved to be my undoing.  I just could not get comfortable.  I tried the birth ball, the toilet, kneeling - none of it provided any relief.  The worst of it was the intense need to pee - it must have been how he was positioned, but I felt like I continually had to go to the bathroom (nothing there, though), but I knew it wasn't the rectal pressure of full dilatation.  And my L&D nurse did a quick exam in one of those positions and, after an hour of hard, regular contractions, the news that I hadn't dilated anymore was positively crushing to my desire to do things unmedicated.  At this point, I asked for the epidural.  My doula suggested that now might be the time to consider the nitrous oxide.  I readily agreed.  It helped a bit, for the in between contraction part, but did nothing for the pain of the contractions.  I asked for the epidural again, but the epidural requires that you be given two bags of IV fluids before administration.  Upon my loudly-expressed desire, they started the fluids, but everyone in the room (even me, although I just needed reassurance that they were at least TRYING to get me the epidural) knew that I was going to deliver before an epidural could happen.  I tried to block that knowledge out and finally climbed into bed with the peanut ball in between my legs and held onto that nitrous mask as if it was my lifeline.  In fact, post-delivery, the bridge of my nose was super sore and it took me a while to figure out that that was from pushing the nitrous mask so hard into my face.  The time from that point out is a complete and total blur - it could have been minutes, or it could have been hours.  I felt completely out of my mind.  I just hovered as far away as I could from the events that were transpiring as a way to cope with the trauma of the intense pain.  I vaguely remember my OB coming in, but not much else.  I was finally instructed that I need to move from my side to my back (a Herculean effort, if ever I've experienced one) to start pushing.  Now, here finally was what I was waiting for - the desire to feel the urge to push, which I'd never experience before.  And, it was nothing like I expected it to be.  I felt a desire, alright, but more a desire to just escape the pressure that had engulfed my entire nether regions.  Pushing didn't bring me relief, per se, I just did what I was told to do, hoping that they were right.  It took a long time - I found out after the fact that his head was huge (98% percentile), but then he was also broad-shouldered, and so he didn't slide out easily, and I had to work hard to pass both areas, but he arrived at 5:26 pm, about three and a half hours after I checked into L&D.  The doctor laid him on my stomach and I remember feeling slightly disgruntled about that, which was definitely a first for me.  The pain (without an epidural, pushing out the placenta was unpleasant, I found) had left me shell shocked and traumatized, and all I wanted was to be able to feel like myself again.  I didn't experience the euphoria or empowerment I'd heard you're "supposed" to experience after natural birth and I didn't feel the immediate bond and love that I'd had with my other kids - my brain remained in its numb state for a good thirty minutes after delivery.  The kids came in pretty quickly to meet their little brother, and everything was still a bit fuzzy for me.  We even forgot to take family pictures, which is something I've done every time.  Everyone except Graeme and I left to go have dinner and then the baby care nurses came in and did his assessment.  I enjoyed the peace and quiet at that moment and was finally starting to feel more like myself.  He weighed in at a (for me) whopping 8lbs8oz (my previous largest baby was a 42 weeker at 7lbs11oz) and was 20 inches long.

In reflection, I feel almost as shocked by my first natural (the hospital staff considered nitrous usage to be still classified as a "natural" birth, I'm sure others disagree, but whatever you want to classify it as, it was definitely a non-epidural birth) birth as I did by my unexpected c-section with my first.  It was a wildly different experience than I'd dreamed it to be, and from what I heard nearly every other woman describe it as.  I felt traumatized by it, mentally foggy, and not entirely present.  My brain handled the pain by withdrawing from the situation and that lasted clear through the actually delivery part, which I didn't expect.  People usually cite wanting to be fully present as a reason for seeking a natural childbirth, and the irony of this birth was that I actually felt LESS present than in any of my other previous births.  I entered into this animal-like state of existence, and wasn't fully cognizant of what was going on around me.  I feel a bit like a non-participant in Graeme's birth.  Clearly, I'm going to have to work through some stuff, and my feelings of trauma have lessened already as two weeks have gone by.  I absolutely adore my little boy now (way more than I have with previous newborns), but I feel like an anomaly - a woman that desperately wanted, but ended up hating natural childbirth.  In fact, it kind of makes me feel guilty typing that out!  But, the take away, as always, is that I've learned more about the world and more about myself.  And my precious son is worth it.

For the Beauty of the Earth

I don't know about you, but, while I enjoy winter more than most, part of the reason I'm able to do it is because it lends me new appreciation for the splendor of spring, summer, and fall.  I enjoyed looking back on these October photos of a rare family trip to McCall.  It was so worth getting away, even for a simple overnighter (it was a part of a skating competition, lest anyone think it was too simple - the Fife family doesn't do simple LOL).  

For the beauty of the earth

For the glory of the skies,

For the love which from our birth

Over and around us lies.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,

This our hymn of grateful praise.

For the beauty of each hour,

Of the day and of the night,

Hill and vale, and tree and flower,

Sun and moon, and stars of light.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,

This our hymn of grateful praise.

Welcome 2015

2014 was a year of transition in our home.  It was more of the "negative" transitions, though, tearing down old methods, bad habits, preconceived notions, and prejudices.  It wasn't always pretty work, but it had to be done.  2015 is going to be our year of rebuilding - rebuilding our marriage, our family, our security, and our future, and our dreams.  The foundation is the easiest.  That is Christ, always and forever.  This wall quote features prominently in our dining room, and I strive to notice it multiple times a day.  Because my strength, and even James' strength, is not enough for the task ahead.  Only through the grace of the Almighty, given wondrously and freely, will we be able to be all that He intends for us to be as individuals, as a couple, and as parents.  Onward to 2015, and with all gratitude and appreciation to our God and King.

Sun Valley

This year Hero competed in her first out-of-town skating competition.  It was a mixed bag, due to a lot of back-and-forth between Sun Valley and Boise, and two ER visits (!), but it was very interesting, and it's fun to get away, even if it's just for a long weekend.

Hero Graduates from Junior High

It's strange to think that we have only three more years with our oldest child living full-time under our roof.  She is so ready to move on to high school, so I think for her, graduation from West Junior High couldn't come fast enough.  She had a great three year run there, earning a 4.0 Award, Presidential Academic Award, and Outstanding English Department student (a girl after my own heart) Award, and was one of the 12 Best Of West nominees.  I foresee great things for our super-responsible and smart daughter, and it's fun to watch her future unfold.

Cecily Turns 5

Cecily was so excited to turn 5!  She thought it was the hugest deal in the world.  We celebrated on her birthday day with a little homemade cake, and then on Saturday we had a party with the eight of us and Papa in the backyard.  As you can tell by the lift in her chin, she's a very confident and self-posessed 5 year old!

Grandpa's Visit

My dad stopped by for a week-long visit in May, which is always a great pleasure.  We belatedly celebrated his birthday with my homemade German Chocolate Cake.  He also got to spend Mother's Day with us, which meant a relaxed barbecue in the backyard with family.  The kids are always so happy to have him around, it's funny how, if I suggested playing at the park with a frisbee I'd be met with "whatever Moms" but when Grandpa wants to do it, they are all over it.