tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54542935089178802092024-02-18T18:57:54.636-08:00joy in the ordinary Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger397125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-13768526882694010252020-07-16T15:37:00.004-07:002020-07-16T20:57:11.849-07:00The Birth of Ruth, Part 5: Meeting Her Big Sister<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufX6L4J7uXAWprF96rBPvDqh-MLDNZfY4NxufuOSA456Xrb1UIs05HYI_ldtB8z3Mayv0wujdO2ngG_uCA0ntdaMXmM6b4-KPceKMO3TChLUzeFnqE3-sF-Ml1310CHHa5qeyZ8JYhZ6y/s1600/Ruth-254_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufX6L4J7uXAWprF96rBPvDqh-MLDNZfY4NxufuOSA456Xrb1UIs05HYI_ldtB8z3Mayv0wujdO2ngG_uCA0ntdaMXmM6b4-KPceKMO3TChLUzeFnqE3-sF-Ml1310CHHa5qeyZ8JYhZ6y/w625-h416/Ruth-254_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQe9yhzcs98WfZMA3VSnLJwLiRPe9mYa6fE1ORcayxHVui0PI8iuSD9B3q_6DnBIGB43drEZBT1_WkKHsBgqL-G71o3ppw5_bmB7GvoWqbcPZPykEZCBS-TB2mygXaXEUIssVfShiuwZaN/s1600/Ruth-259_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQe9yhzcs98WfZMA3VSnLJwLiRPe9mYa6fE1ORcayxHVui0PI8iuSD9B3q_6DnBIGB43drEZBT1_WkKHsBgqL-G71o3ppw5_bmB7GvoWqbcPZPykEZCBS-TB2mygXaXEUIssVfShiuwZaN/w625-h416/Ruth-259_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><font size="2">All photo credit: <a href="https://www.laurenlabarre.com/" target="_blank">Lauren LaBarre</a></font></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><font size="1"><br /></font></i></div><div>Just before midnight, we finally moved from the floor to the bed, where I nursed and more fully admired our new baby, as the <a href="https://vivantemidwifery.com/" target="_blank">midwives</a> assessed us both and sutured my minimal tearing. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivWtGwbpdmg0f4slEc9_b4NQMMdc30CpdU6aFmja7i_QzakJvV7tPa_Ad3XBFZfh7712LngjRLrde3IhJG4S5aMszt5CyYJVa1_TpWOXi4lkZEluI9mWTrFbY8RNjmcf1RayDfbqLtMNCI/s1600/Ruth-275_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivWtGwbpdmg0f4slEc9_b4NQMMdc30CpdU6aFmja7i_QzakJvV7tPa_Ad3XBFZfh7712LngjRLrde3IhJG4S5aMszt5CyYJVa1_TpWOXi4lkZEluI9mWTrFbY8RNjmcf1RayDfbqLtMNCI/w625-h416/Ruth-275_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU5hhwcmIgA1V72QmApHAiiXLoXlmQ4q9bgyK_bmBlbHQV2E7VvWqJv2G8uTYgUtElnswqT8VHmL1kEWOLZcoACU-3iNXdAS3CIg-AnVrH_Ynl-TPvpaBOQgNxGCnTtutxv1bmNmYGEcy6/s1600/Ruth-283_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU5hhwcmIgA1V72QmApHAiiXLoXlmQ4q9bgyK_bmBlbHQV2E7VvWqJv2G8uTYgUtElnswqT8VHmL1kEWOLZcoACU-3iNXdAS3CIg-AnVrH_Ynl-TPvpaBOQgNxGCnTtutxv1bmNmYGEcy6/w625-h416/Ruth-283_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><font size="1"> </font><br />We heard Erlys (my mother-in-law) making her way upstairs from the basement. She was shocked to learn Ruth had already arrived, and even more so to hear she had actually been born an hour earlier! Miraculously, Lucy had slept through the entire thing. <i>Perhaps <a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-birth-of-ruth-part-3-transition-and.html" target="_blank">all my earlier screaming</a> hadn't been as loud as I imagined? </i><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-F9ztYaKoxVgbeQAsTTY27wfT7oUYv38LBPifYpQZm4EfqT1-ZA3oVK6ZIn72JKdOLGceLMNTY4B9OrT034LtF0p_6jyA1VFBmG0Oh9xsLdcPUF1ONdlAay7tbeUWeRZMmQ28eajp1dM/s1600/Ruth-298_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-F9ztYaKoxVgbeQAsTTY27wfT7oUYv38LBPifYpQZm4EfqT1-ZA3oVK6ZIn72JKdOLGceLMNTY4B9OrT034LtF0p_6jyA1VFBmG0Oh9xsLdcPUF1ONdlAay7tbeUWeRZMmQ28eajp1dM/w333-h500/Ruth-298_websize.jpg" width="333" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Justin and I impulsively decided we wanted to wake Lucy and bring her down to meet Ruth, and I am so thrilled our<span style="background-color: white;"> <span><a href="https://www.laurenlabarre.com/" target="_blank">birth photographer</a> </span></span>was still around to capture their introduction. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidI7jHR2z3Opdj2r5O-xHiCAC77OrgKJZhYqwyjn1B3UYmI3yJTiEpEOZ5VOGBHw1HafRGpvFOSxEA0m82L0cTGzt4OUpCb8Cx-PeKvNw6K4_vf4PfUh-xjbjBFfPVi_QVQXw0KU3FQEr0/s1600/Ruth-287_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidI7jHR2z3Opdj2r5O-xHiCAC77OrgKJZhYqwyjn1B3UYmI3yJTiEpEOZ5VOGBHw1HafRGpvFOSxEA0m82L0cTGzt4OUpCb8Cx-PeKvNw6K4_vf4PfUh-xjbjBFfPVi_QVQXw0KU3FQEr0/w625-h416/Ruth-287_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-Yl6-Kbk5_eDnKMcXeSHYY9XlwjzddThAiMaHWxLZ_tDkNYh6OfIc8jiOiF5pwwL9uvIXShOXUWqUVIfUal0jo1HAZKhgFr7VXteqQK5kGLrXlAT4p3WdnUb0wbIKGJpo4-uuK12fBXh/s1600/Ruth-321_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-Yl6-Kbk5_eDnKMcXeSHYY9XlwjzddThAiMaHWxLZ_tDkNYh6OfIc8jiOiF5pwwL9uvIXShOXUWqUVIfUal0jo1HAZKhgFr7VXteqQK5kGLrXlAT4p3WdnUb0wbIKGJpo4-uuK12fBXh/w625-h416/Ruth-321_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWaxKBLrfzOo4EzYedb1inpHE2zrwZ7ZxfXYvFce4WG1sYzywQ0bd9_NGatxMJQBCNiSdL_mU9R2keHBM-HYHowA6QxJhQrVE-dWsT-Kkc2uo4AIqxkg2UCPTTVt4NdSaKXA3IHg0lLJv/s1600/Ruth-320_websize+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWaxKBLrfzOo4EzYedb1inpHE2zrwZ7ZxfXYvFce4WG1sYzywQ0bd9_NGatxMJQBCNiSdL_mU9R2keHBM-HYHowA6QxJhQrVE-dWsT-Kkc2uo4AIqxkg2UCPTTVt4NdSaKXA3IHg0lLJv/w625-h416/Ruth-320_websize+%25281%2529.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauitwVKtr0Hju78e5R9NwenMi24DFatuH0aU_XyH41S-RA6BzSG1Tg8w7WJRyIZZ-6DIlzozYHVcejsIr9wOxuwAhWs8xBb7SgOhym49aGgtK26b0PCfsBjbVWmqdqH4rKPFFvb0a6CSa/s1600/Ruth-319_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauitwVKtr0Hju78e5R9NwenMi24DFatuH0aU_XyH41S-RA6BzSG1Tg8w7WJRyIZZ-6DIlzozYHVcejsIr9wOxuwAhWs8xBb7SgOhym49aGgtK26b0PCfsBjbVWmqdqH4rKPFFvb0a6CSa/w625-h416/Ruth-319_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Between Lucy's sweaty bedhead and prominently displayed Daniel Tiger tattoos; my "cocoon" of chux pad, towel, blood-soaked birth blanket, and a hodgepodge of receiving blankets; and the distinctive absence of Ruth's face as she screamed any time she was not deeply burrowed into my breast (understandably protesting her evacuation from her first home)...these crowded, sleepy first images of our family of four are not at all what I imagined they would be.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPFPQyZxiKRZf4IZZHDCU5NsbiYjlnjJBrU48F2ZlNupGpgMun3DaP5iGavad7FLUAhlmypvt-3hgDa-49j8PRH28mB4ycM-UZRlYk_kbhmSOvWxutEO1l_CWqMAW1DwQneT7LhGEsid1/s1600/Ruth-330_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPFPQyZxiKRZf4IZZHDCU5NsbiYjlnjJBrU48F2ZlNupGpgMun3DaP5iGavad7FLUAhlmypvt-3hgDa-49j8PRH28mB4ycM-UZRlYk_kbhmSOvWxutEO1l_CWqMAW1DwQneT7LhGEsid1/w625-h416/Ruth-330_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvXh6MXOE0MchD_rfL2_7WTJCd3t3cfNJ5bFJSGTd1uJsksp1YL_u7_FPOJvuuPZYjhFclHJWJ5Omrasx0dNgBpnjdcn_u6xkENREqorLdKtgkT1wFzljSICIqQEzZMj3tsfkqgfV_rAd/s1600/Ruth-334_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvXh6MXOE0MchD_rfL2_7WTJCd3t3cfNJ5bFJSGTd1uJsksp1YL_u7_FPOJvuuPZYjhFclHJWJ5Omrasx0dNgBpnjdcn_u6xkENREqorLdKtgkT1wFzljSICIqQEzZMj3tsfkqgfV_rAd/w625-h416/Ruth-334_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And yet, despite all our hopes, dreams, and diligent planning; <b>birth writes itself. </b>Over and over again. </i></div></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_TCxx_NMmErhGwk4A71HlL9EB18lLoSpR75WWKiGVaGwPJsF6YX-5L4fD-rT1q7Wkf9y22YWpR-tgOKJNJJ7akovDCIS708sw_iTLd7koIfP7NRjdK5U2bUkqTUMWXvB0t5iqqjMdzxwu/s1600/Ruth-336_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_TCxx_NMmErhGwk4A71HlL9EB18lLoSpR75WWKiGVaGwPJsF6YX-5L4fD-rT1q7Wkf9y22YWpR-tgOKJNJJ7akovDCIS708sw_iTLd7koIfP7NRjdK5U2bUkqTUMWXvB0t5iqqjMdzxwu/w625-h416/Ruth-336_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-32957067720598089442020-07-16T15:24:00.004-07:002020-07-16T21:51:46.950-07:00The Birth of Ruth, Part 4: The Afterbirth<div><i><font size="2"><b>**Content warning: this post contains graphic images of birth and descriptions of blood and retained placenta</b></font></i></div><div><br /></div><div><b><font size="5">10:44pm</font></b></div><div>After the intensity of her arrival, I was looking forward to resting and savoring our first family snuggles. And we did...for a few precious minutes, at least. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><font size="2">All of the photos in this post were taken by <a href="https://www.laurenlabarre.com/" target="_blank">Lauren LaBarre</a></font></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5trsxqNkGDagUQw6awBOkFJf81MJx3ZBhVycKpS9OsLlUKVjbfBJCiMhcIr3suZDQikX58yw43h6QHML6mqC_i99CBuC2vLCx5toS0I5z9_-dxHLUiiyhNUrkLSVmbVeY3yrZ0Npzet2/s1600/Ruth-121_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5trsxqNkGDagUQw6awBOkFJf81MJx3ZBhVycKpS9OsLlUKVjbfBJCiMhcIr3suZDQikX58yw43h6QHML6mqC_i99CBuC2vLCx5toS0I5z9_-dxHLUiiyhNUrkLSVmbVeY3yrZ0Npzet2/w625-h416/Ruth-121_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgxqihZqkiAscmjugPCnlrShl5CJt0T8rz3b8awUtTkZfaDcS8fa_yejdINI8V8548t-1rtWN3EGFZU9mBd7-CCuIWt67H9cs1EUVCXWu9DchKHYTLwR9p6B5K6R2A2-jrZ88nn8EBpSv/s1600/Ruth-122_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgxqihZqkiAscmjugPCnlrShl5CJt0T8rz3b8awUtTkZfaDcS8fa_yejdINI8V8548t-1rtWN3EGFZU9mBd7-CCuIWt67H9cs1EUVCXWu9DchKHYTLwR9p6B5K6R2A2-jrZ88nn8EBpSv/w625-h416/Ruth-122_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>But then my midwives announced it was time to expel the placenta. I reaaaallllly didn't feel like pushing <i>(like, ever, ever again)</i>, but knew it was my "ticket to freedom," so I mustered some strength and tried, while still comfortably reclined against Justin.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcdQhfEyqKd4kp_tbHRO10VDvpkpSThVLfWDfx-ZNIepiLzPkZYsnxjzmC_etJfJxPBd696ePoWdyPYI41-y2vCkP83ZzVZCIDfhjlaOt-t5QNazF9NrsO2W8iuPZD1onotbsYQYF702C/s1600/Ruth-128_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcdQhfEyqKd4kp_tbHRO10VDvpkpSThVLfWDfx-ZNIepiLzPkZYsnxjzmC_etJfJxPBd696ePoWdyPYI41-y2vCkP83ZzVZCIDfhjlaOt-t5QNazF9NrsO2W8iuPZD1onotbsYQYF702C/w625-h416/Ruth-128_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><font size="2"><span style="text-align: left;">In looking back at the birth notes and images, I see now that there was substantial blood loss already in the tub. But in my post-birth haze, I wasn't really aware of anything other than feeling mildly inconvenienced.</span><br /></font></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScuwjjmbnPmxBO1EzcGSvwO6THX-aIDQ24tZMQzbM5mNd3j2XPbqZtSvnYObrKKI5GwOq7U7UxtGEw_2HRjnrgXMYfpjK-n9RWeZeGDhnDA01fpfE7agHuiDm38E0bM8L6OxeujjFsc_s/s1600/Ruth-130_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScuwjjmbnPmxBO1EzcGSvwO6THX-aIDQ24tZMQzbM5mNd3j2XPbqZtSvnYObrKKI5GwOq7U7UxtGEw_2HRjnrgXMYfpjK-n9RWeZeGDhnDA01fpfE7agHuiDm38E0bM8L6OxeujjFsc_s/w625-h416/Ruth-130_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div></div><div><font size="1"> </font><br />As soon as the cord stopped pulsing, Justin was given the symbolic honor of cutting it, which felt strange since the placenta was still inside me. Rather than bind it, however, a hemostat was left in place and I was calmly instructed to hand Ruth to her dad and get out of the tub.<br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvE0sCPnQ9w5CqYK_3v7G-UyK27VU8wp5TyXrd9Y4A35FxFH5zCs5r2PPXUEixLJBYmWb3MHuAyHzCyVVanUCUycU2hmwllRaieO6tudbNRMkf2XRgi_mLTEh5tYraMUKtMknwQHUm2Ki/s1600/Ruth-132_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvE0sCPnQ9w5CqYK_3v7G-UyK27VU8wp5TyXrd9Y4A35FxFH5zCs5r2PPXUEixLJBYmWb3MHuAyHzCyVVanUCUycU2hmwllRaieO6tudbNRMkf2XRgi_mLTEh5tYraMUKtMknwQHUm2Ki/w625-h416/Ruth-132_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><font size="2">Here I am, still smiling in my post-birth glow, blissfully unaware of the concerned look on Justin's face in the background...or what was about to come.</font></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><font size="2"><br /></font></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWW0Le3D8hrtU7AAAUwbCRqDqBeyZKx5N0z1ZtCfO5TBDqhCvGwl7b0TxwUXD2aWsh9TI5TRLdmrWKNGGOQ9mmE1I87YziGYFXe4xH1a_Gse5ZqvAwWfAzgzqmoIkm5z1df4IZgkrQzPb/s1600/Ruth-141_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWW0Le3D8hrtU7AAAUwbCRqDqBeyZKx5N0z1ZtCfO5TBDqhCvGwl7b0TxwUXD2aWsh9TI5TRLdmrWKNGGOQ9mmE1I87YziGYFXe4xH1a_Gse5ZqvAwWfAzgzqmoIkm5z1df4IZgkrQzPb/w625-h416/Ruth-141_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4UuG2q9GyrIY0Hc2FIJAtTrRy06PbuWJcaPiMkXghTkqx7WmhTYTCznS-q7UJsXQA52VHdICYzaUMWrxg1VrdaK_8u4L0AjwnvFs27gwUgsZUjKpZeowrM8Fa_C-ucP_-nQXBH1_d1pY/s1600/Ruth-145_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4UuG2q9GyrIY0Hc2FIJAtTrRy06PbuWJcaPiMkXghTkqx7WmhTYTCznS-q7UJsXQA52VHdICYzaUMWrxg1VrdaK_8u4L0AjwnvFs27gwUgsZUjKpZeowrM8Fa_C-ucP_-nQXBH1_d1pY/w416-h625/Ruth-145_websize.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;">I will never get over the way Justin looks at our daughters. (Also, check out the change in tub water. I'm told the water actually makes it </i><span style="font-size: small;"><u>appear</u></span><i style="font-size: small;"> as though there is more blood than there really is, but <b>holy smokes!</b> By the time I got out, Justin said he could no longer see his legs.)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><b><font size="5">10:53pm</font></b></div><div>My feet had barely landed on the ground when I was injected with Pitocin. Hoping gravity would assist, I attempted to push in a standing, and then supported squatting, position while my midwife applied gentle pressure externally on my soft belly to prevent my anterior placenta from "catching" on my pubic bone. </div><div><br /></div><div><b><font size="5">10:55pm</font></b></div><div>I was instructed to lay down, and informed my placenta had only partially detached. My body continued to supply blood to what it interpreted was still an attached organ, therefore resulting in significant blood loss each time I attempted to expel it.</div><div><br /><i>These next two minutes (and honestly the 20 or so after that) were the most chaotic of my entire life. In a trauma-response, I felt as though I were outside of my body, watching it all occur. I marveled at how swiftly I had transformed from the most powerful woman in the room, roaring my new baby into the world...to this woman, laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. I looked up and saw it streaking the sides of the birth tub...my thighs...my midwife's arms and shirt. It felt so surreal. And yet, adrenaline kept me feeling more inconvenienced than afraid. I just wanted to "get it over with."</i></div><div><br />I heard Ruth screaming in the background, and a suggestion was made for skin-to-skin, hoping that might promote more contractions. </div><div><br /></div><div><b><font size="5">10:57pm</font></b></div><div>Ruth was placed on my chest. I don't remember doing so, but instinctively I must have softened, clutching her to me and shushing in her ear. </div><div><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu72LW0qN-8BWlnshobs5gRj68JH7paIgxsV-_FM72CQ9_bI6gPoL_b7MBHO_uWVBR7NUpdYymHi38IAvW8wjtqEXqCV7fRGF-t8eo6STEDb4EX5BkIsorgvv0sQp3x8Jo6neUixZJ2ads/s1600/Ruth-155_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu72LW0qN-8BWlnshobs5gRj68JH7paIgxsV-_FM72CQ9_bI6gPoL_b7MBHO_uWVBR7NUpdYymHi38IAvW8wjtqEXqCV7fRGF-t8eo6STEDb4EX5BkIsorgvv0sQp3x8Jo6neUixZJ2ads/w520-h781/Ruth-155_websize.jpg" width="520" /></a></div></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I will forever be grateful for these images and the way they show me that there was still calm and connection, even amidst chaos. As I later engaged therapy to process my trauma, these pictures became my anchor. <b><i>My proof that motherhood is the most powerful and protective force in all of nature.</i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV_DKsvDgxgrccuwt0DcDDd03rJUv9HIINP14xfh_EfzExrk4_iiIh7sThfyBQJ6tqV5s_evVcwPJ0PbSHgp6hIJBhJYs8mudi2dXk3A6DQctGzZi88CigDqPnXtvPcjjkT6UBCbA5ZyZC/s1600/Ruth-158_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV_DKsvDgxgrccuwt0DcDDd03rJUv9HIINP14xfh_EfzExrk4_iiIh7sThfyBQJ6tqV5s_evVcwPJ0PbSHgp6hIJBhJYs8mudi2dXk3A6DQctGzZi88CigDqPnXtvPcjjkT6UBCbA5ZyZC/w416-h625/Ruth-158_websize.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJwQ9xHp7ZGW8sisHS-LBXKrNKhVS8hAhT1E_YnJw2oZc4bqjUpdjrmN804KmwfqlF4I7jD4fzf7KjFlRZFq_LE7-nKQRKq7XbeIIxdk2urvBQohbd3dJmQuYw1p5baOW6q16L6MoMOkM/s1600/Ruth-165_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJwQ9xHp7ZGW8sisHS-LBXKrNKhVS8hAhT1E_YnJw2oZc4bqjUpdjrmN804KmwfqlF4I7jD4fzf7KjFlRZFq_LE7-nKQRKq7XbeIIxdk2urvBQohbd3dJmQuYw1p5baOW6q16L6MoMOkM/w625-h416/Ruth-165_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>With Ruth quieted in my arms, I attempted to push some more before I glanced up at Justin (who was still standing in the birth tub). The look of concern on his face caused an overwhelming sense of terror for me. It didn't matter that my (incredibly calm and competent) midwife was actively reassuring me that we still had plenty of time and everything would be just fine; <i>Justin was my personal barometer of safety.</i> After the next attempted push, I was certain I had finally done it...only to be told the excretion I felt was actually another blood clot. </div><div><br /></div><div>Despite the extremely cramped surroundings <i>(none of my imagined birth plans involved me laying on the ground next to the birth tub)</i>, I requested he come near me. Strengthened by his support, clutching our tiny newborn to my chest, I resumed my determination. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtq7J42Ig1g7budB-iVtzlVE6GpHikrmVOJhSXqgwRjlgV_FGUJoKv0jQNkeO1uZFxEqftlvVTZ1qOok69Q1P4OFvR2JUMrRgxSfjnBkntw8DY3e8Lp9-H3aqqL28hdPkhqtUphGeHEpJW/s1600/Ruth-173_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtq7J42Ig1g7budB-iVtzlVE6GpHikrmVOJhSXqgwRjlgV_FGUJoKv0jQNkeO1uZFxEqftlvVTZ1qOok69Q1P4OFvR2JUMrRgxSfjnBkntw8DY3e8Lp9-H3aqqL28hdPkhqtUphGeHEpJW/w625-h416/Ruth-173_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>It still took <i>far</i> longer than any of us had hoped, and I was understandably exhausted and discouraged by the end, but again I'm so grateful for the way these images show my continued focus on Ruth. This wasn't the way I dreamed it would be, but I soaked as much of her in as I could in those tumultuous first moments of her life.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02dXwvTeRkXQlogZeTH1IgH8xZ-dW2mrZJw5tNCPNYQQ2hAICZqpqxQ-t2PZOhjqC0QJvE_fnvrtms_45_Gbt4kjovHhgYgjEByoFktTvmkzM87kD-zxsbEukfv3ZiWZWs9fMNTqqJO38/s1080/PicsArt_07-13-08.12.42.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02dXwvTeRkXQlogZeTH1IgH8xZ-dW2mrZJw5tNCPNYQQ2hAICZqpqxQ-t2PZOhjqC0QJvE_fnvrtms_45_Gbt4kjovHhgYgjEByoFktTvmkzM87kD-zxsbEukfv3ZiWZWs9fMNTqqJO38/w625-h625/PicsArt_07-13-08.12.42.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><div><b><font size="5">11:10pm</font></b></div><div>Twenty-six frenzied minutes after Ruth emerged, I finally birthed the placenta with the aid of cord traction and assisted squatting. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtarfgiZuKL6QtPSA_ifmmg6K3c2VsQvaGVfZ9MOtjO435PkJhnsZhyH0cp9eLbKVN2EO9LRzQBKj7xBKrzuotyf6a8sqklJ_2SgTCDxED_sMLo-BaaiZcJ4NEO1mVVg7LkfSkHTwkWee0/s1600/Ruth-182_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1066" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtarfgiZuKL6QtPSA_ifmmg6K3c2VsQvaGVfZ9MOtjO435PkJhnsZhyH0cp9eLbKVN2EO9LRzQBKj7xBKrzuotyf6a8sqklJ_2SgTCDxED_sMLo-BaaiZcJ4NEO1mVVg7LkfSkHTwkWee0/w416-h625/Ruth-182_websize.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy1Wxz60P2Mq_0NI1QbLHusjFiJOTAiGMc6uwqu8PefvtXRkaCi9gpFNQfG7aLsVrFGsDdJZY6HPowdmfvhuweM2jxOWKWJzqMBa6sd095pUmvm38x8EjxRXthOF1OnyjiZSFu441RnSzJ/s1600/Ruth-189_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy1Wxz60P2Mq_0NI1QbLHusjFiJOTAiGMc6uwqu8PefvtXRkaCi9gpFNQfG7aLsVrFGsDdJZY6HPowdmfvhuweM2jxOWKWJzqMBa6sd095pUmvm38x8EjxRXthOF1OnyjiZSFu441RnSzJ/w500-h333/Ruth-189_websize.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="2"><i>It wasn't until I saw this image later that I remembered or appreciated how freaking badass this moment was. Here I am bracing Ruth with one arm and propping my weary body up with the other, having just managed to finally expel my stubborn placenta. It certainly isn't a glamorous photo - in fact, some might even find it gross. But I think it captures the raw, heroic glory of childbirth. <b><u>Women are incredible.</u></b></i></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsBJYOWITlRAIvXyMZ4ZQExrTi7ROGK4JQWx1sPemeXmLWoOzG5MRO7CtT7-7XVD5j3c68Ck2SQJtM3p_wPMZhjK5XS028sz8rZZIo2EYq8wX4FGybZXpvhs3z0J5L5Uw0ov-1YUvoUe_/s1600/Ruth-209_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsBJYOWITlRAIvXyMZ4ZQExrTi7ROGK4JQWx1sPemeXmLWoOzG5MRO7CtT7-7XVD5j3c68Ck2SQJtM3p_wPMZhjK5XS028sz8rZZIo2EYq8wX4FGybZXpvhs3z0J5L5Uw0ov-1YUvoUe_/w500-h333/Ruth-209_websize.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="2"><i>I'm including this picture - even though the mess and the crowding and the chaos make me cringe a bit - because it also makes me laugh. Here is my completely unflappable midwife, Sharon, literally covered in my blood and crouching on the ground...still smiling. (Also, I feel like its worth nothing that even after all this saga, <span style="text-align: left;">somehow miraculously, I did not hemorrhage.)</span></i></font></div><div><br /></div><div>Finally. Finally, it was over. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzi0SGcHQf0H0PJzcgw3-m_4VQ4FQbmjTxrC8ntomYeUT1urR8hcWST85bO7rV9AkMv8bfp09FmGKfApJ_nannYoQOEBvPnX5FmkYU2EEQEfpMcD6gQQcBCBQQF8PmUpZj7yCrVtRG0F5n/s1600/Ruth-238_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzi0SGcHQf0H0PJzcgw3-m_4VQ4FQbmjTxrC8ntomYeUT1urR8hcWST85bO7rV9AkMv8bfp09FmGKfApJ_nannYoQOEBvPnX5FmkYU2EEQEfpMcD6gQQcBCBQQF8PmUpZj7yCrVtRG0F5n/w625-h416/Ruth-238_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJH9zG11VAARytJ763Vi7Rtw5KAlUEa8j3fe55YSs5k4e4PknhdzrCX-Dy8TD00yr2Dl3hY3nmaJReUQHQPY7loqwRHBb-TErkzxlMlu9tzeHU66LGSX2cFY3RokOke_uXrohWDk2UvLZP/s1600/Ruth-248_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJH9zG11VAARytJ763Vi7Rtw5KAlUEa8j3fe55YSs5k4e4PknhdzrCX-Dy8TD00yr2Dl3hY3nmaJReUQHQPY7loqwRHBb-TErkzxlMlu9tzeHU66LGSX2cFY3RokOke_uXrohWDk2UvLZP/w520-h781/Ruth-248_websize.jpg" width="520" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-64842804481798949392020-07-15T21:37:00.001-07:002020-07-16T15:46:47.791-07:00The Birth of Ruth, Part 3: Transition and Pushing (the action post!)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;">Content warning: This post contains graphic images of birth. Photo credit belongs to <a href="https://www.laurenlabarre.com/" target="_blank">Lauren LaBarre</a>.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="2"><i><br /></i></font></div><div style="text-align: left;">As the contractions mounted, I found myself impulsively resisting them by whispering "No, no, no!" I consciously worked to verbalize <i>"Yes"</i> and <i>"Wide Open"</i> instead, hoping the change in words would bring about a change in physical experience as well. I also attempted <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://youtu.be/fW2Zk_Iw720" target="_blank">horse-lip breathing</a> t</span>o release and relax after each surge, but they were starting to sound frantic. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b>(I joked to everyone in the room that I felt like I was making<span style="background-color: white;"> "<a href="https://youtu.be/DP-M087nq5I" target="_blank">Cardi B tongue roll sounds</a>," which is still funny to me even now, but also served as <u>my third clue that for some unknown reason I was feeling self-conscious and outwardly-focused rather than fully centered</u>.)</span></b></i></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaE_mI4etFH3u5swdSBUE2NfouvQk7iAzK9NYVmq4q-WGDba2jnx0J8cgIJO9YQBk9KPOc2h9M-AR42hAA5jumlS4gNtSpQkQFJ4qdOsW7kqCQrMXuO6blLV6-p7lruTP8lZbziYlieoNE/s1600/Ruth-67_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaE_mI4etFH3u5swdSBUE2NfouvQk7iAzK9NYVmq4q-WGDba2jnx0J8cgIJO9YQBk9KPOc2h9M-AR42hAA5jumlS4gNtSpQkQFJ4qdOsW7kqCQrMXuO6blLV6-p7lruTP8lZbziYlieoNE/w625-h416/Ruth-67_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNbNcylEtaDsKDM-ZDJ39nPZkye0c3IXmltfqT6_9LQWEW6D8d-hw5WQnx5Gs-qyf7-SrDvSeNVBw9Im5y3b6csqwZ8jrGJGkJZS_MOEByuQHqobGbT-aCu6N9HuOwu8GyMMVlByjt_hL/s1600/Ruth-68_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNbNcylEtaDsKDM-ZDJ39nPZkye0c3IXmltfqT6_9LQWEW6D8d-hw5WQnx5Gs-qyf7-SrDvSeNVBw9Im5y3b6csqwZ8jrGJGkJZS_MOEByuQHqobGbT-aCu6N9HuOwu8GyMMVlByjt_hL/w625-h416/Ruth-68_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8teTR9Kwe2UjWhuFPlM69q1Rxp5SbvTA18sjmY3Y_JZ7D6HSGImtIcTUg-caRYC6z9gHruecrqqw5tyiVkO_qOX_eguGgwBfJX0WK5CocRe3PShe3ylec6crHiVKJIRbzhecmqseE3j4O/s1600/Ruth-69_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8teTR9Kwe2UjWhuFPlM69q1Rxp5SbvTA18sjmY3Y_JZ7D6HSGImtIcTUg-caRYC6z9gHruecrqqw5tyiVkO_qOX_eguGgwBfJX0WK5CocRe3PShe3ylec6crHiVKJIRbzhecmqseE3j4O/w625-h416/Ruth-69_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="2"><i>These images capture me trying my very hardest to hold still so the midwives could listen to Ruth's heart-rate through the duration of a contraction. Staying still is absolutely not a requirement - I was told multiple times that they will "follow" me - but the accommodator in me was trying my best to make it "easy" on them.</i></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="2"><i><br /></i></font></div></span></div><div><b><font size="5">10:14 pm</font></b></div><div>The birth assistant arrived. This was a midwife I'd never met before, which was different from my previous birth experience. Immediately upon finishing my current contraction, I turned to introduce myself to her. Even as I write this now, it stands out as one of the strangest moments in my birth story to me, and <span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>my fourth major clue that I was simply <i>not</i> allowing myself to fully relax into my own body</u></b></span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>You see, one of the reasons I chose to deliver my babies at home was the luxury of being supported by completely familiar surroundings, including my birth providers. So, as I felt myself shifting into the exceedingly vulnerable Transition Phase of labor, I needed to recalibrate the familiarity dynamic in the room. </div><div><br /></div><div>In essence, this introduction was my way of saying, <i><b>"Hey, If you are going to enter my birth space, I will at least know your name."</b></i></div><div><br /></div><div><b><font size="5">10:30pm</font></b></div><div>Even though absolutely no one was telling me to do otherwise, I announced, <i>"I'm sorry, I just really need to scream right now." </i></div><div><br /></div><div>In hindsight <span style="background-color: white;"><b>I see that unprompted declaration as my way of roaring myself, finally, into a seat of Power at my own birth</b></span>. <i>Better late than never, I suppose.</i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqk0IR1ff8ib67LAX7UJRrCcKVswspHHvBEV8gPHnmDNMDA3ReE54Jfw8uyoagM0GEsJUmBrMngbjDGAbrZWk66P_3okSKWQLux6qSEUIKjwS5UaFa8tE10uML0AIpmmtxT5JnA239IFM/s1600/Ruth-73_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqk0IR1ff8ib67LAX7UJRrCcKVswspHHvBEV8gPHnmDNMDA3ReE54Jfw8uyoagM0GEsJUmBrMngbjDGAbrZWk66P_3okSKWQLux6qSEUIKjwS5UaFa8tE10uML0AIpmmtxT5JnA239IFM/w625-h416/Ruth-73_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqiYu8F1vR-LMVzcfs8cWH762NlNi6ILWr-H92htmPr5z27V-WNif5nPZL2D_-HlwJLoCXe527MkQnCE4QvwYxIdiaiXGiTte3bRavRSUmAU2qfOz36qgLxTfCmVlECYqKVn5bp8984dbR/s1600/Ruth-74_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqiYu8F1vR-LMVzcfs8cWH762NlNi6ILWr-H92htmPr5z27V-WNif5nPZL2D_-HlwJLoCXe527MkQnCE4QvwYxIdiaiXGiTte3bRavRSUmAU2qfOz36qgLxTfCmVlECYqKVn5bp8984dbR/w625-h416/Ruth-74_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="2"><i><b>Justin says these two images (taken back to back) perfectly summarize this birth. Ferocity followed by Peace.</b></i></font></div><div><br />Much like Lucy's birth, I found I absolutely loved the freedom of volume. And yet, with the next contraction, I yelled<i> "Get her out. Get her out of me right now!" </i><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxYIQW30H82y-O0Ns3JxCZwGrdeRhHJnISzz1YXBOGqCvY8Z9xKFZEhNcFoReYTPUw77rTEPth_VOB1jm3A3vcXFOdhiQO94KtpUr2rVv431hVsjf63y-48hkxvGzozwVdzYVN9xApwCw/s1600/Ruth-99_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxYIQW30H82y-O0Ns3JxCZwGrdeRhHJnISzz1YXBOGqCvY8Z9xKFZEhNcFoReYTPUw77rTEPth_VOB1jm3A3vcXFOdhiQO94KtpUr2rVv431hVsjf63y-48hkxvGzozwVdzYVN9xApwCw/w625-h416/Ruth-99_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>In looking through the birth records after the fact, I see now that Ruth's heart rate was not decelerating as it should. My midwives were, of course, monitoring the situation, and had noted their plan to suggest IV fluids and cervical check should we endure another contraction without appropriate deceleration. But blessedly, I wasn't aware of these specifics at the time <i>(though instinctively I obviously knew I was nearing the end)</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div><b><font size="5">10:39pm</font></b></div><div>Sure enough, I announced,<i> "I'm pushing!"</i> (Another great luxury of Home Birth: I didn't need any form of "permission" to do what my body was already doing naturally.)</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoM4PP5a4e7UoJioSXA21cUoOdxNV_O3drD2p5EVTbSLFg6EPSV30iar9mUK7OZSDWZT0_Fo9XoqZvqXf5Yq-Jmfx9OrM5RSW5kOBotelxtBi0AIyCNh27AyjOFBMVuf5wHky60UhuSlW1/s1600/Ruth-92_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoM4PP5a4e7UoJioSXA21cUoOdxNV_O3drD2p5EVTbSLFg6EPSV30iar9mUK7OZSDWZT0_Fo9XoqZvqXf5Yq-Jmfx9OrM5RSW5kOBotelxtBi0AIyCNh27AyjOFBMVuf5wHky60UhuSlW1/w625-h416/Ruth-92_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b><font size="5">10:42pm</font></b></div><div> I felt my water break and Ruth's head emerge. And then, for two long magical minutes, a hush came over the room as I relaxed back against Justin, palming her head and settling into the silent anticipation of her arrival. <b><i>I knew she would be in my arms soon, and I cherished that space where she was beautifully between worlds. </i></b></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvbKIfPTc4uMkabzzpyMTAlQaWJFs4MEScGUQVQxE1-NU8u3ME4ucRtlsYSVneArNRqnseQPzaPnvOsBL-DsEC9VYmU3ysSfO3AvwjrY59bV4Cc3sUDBuJ0nyhut-_tY8FKE-XM7cZmt5L/s1600/Ruth-107_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvbKIfPTc4uMkabzzpyMTAlQaWJFs4MEScGUQVQxE1-NU8u3ME4ucRtlsYSVneArNRqnseQPzaPnvOsBL-DsEC9VYmU3ysSfO3AvwjrY59bV4Cc3sUDBuJ0nyhut-_tY8FKE-XM7cZmt5L/w625-h416/Ruth-107_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSGSoqeuPUalk1TwFHHx3oALeuqjBJXFkDCB0za98uwCjGxCOFvHTxX49yE2d98W-4bkC9Xrb6mUdM8ivYCCy8wegGRmvri08Y96HquoGKqqJCRUyT1uTMbL5ffZiNM_wc6GnQVNYwDGSD/s1600/Ruth-111_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSGSoqeuPUalk1TwFHHx3oALeuqjBJXFkDCB0za98uwCjGxCOFvHTxX49yE2d98W-4bkC9Xrb6mUdM8ivYCCy8wegGRmvri08Y96HquoGKqqJCRUyT1uTMbL5ffZiNM_wc6GnQVNYwDGSD/w625-h416/Ruth-111_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><b><font size="5">10:44pm</font></b></div><div>I felt the final surge of birth and Ruth's body slipped into the water, with my midwife bracing her tiny fist (which she had determinedly worked out alongside her little jaw during that peaceful two minute interval between contractions). </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2kdE1IENOIPZPxFCeO370UDzYgedYPunvXjt0QvBo5ssZvOa798QK4fuBgZvp180sJGsMJTvuqU7IlLxeXUsfzp2krgNYCSM8CnBLx0rGnCFBYk4TBq8MVdQMzeP1ddlwxXXRduEuU0jW/s1600/Ruth-113_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2kdE1IENOIPZPxFCeO370UDzYgedYPunvXjt0QvBo5ssZvOa798QK4fuBgZvp180sJGsMJTvuqU7IlLxeXUsfzp2krgNYCSM8CnBLx0rGnCFBYk4TBq8MVdQMzeP1ddlwxXXRduEuU0jW/w625-h416/Ruth-113_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAOxh7zg7M9yN_hoOx0SnlIj7vTVahbfblbF_WLN31TACcZYfjb0SUQBM0LSYizzXF4eXSlHh8gBW6POhxmDmxH0aEJ9emGF272vFpNckh-EAdYnUjC2dU3a_4F5PMlfOlv-fnRZA4sAX/s1600/Ruth-115_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAOxh7zg7M9yN_hoOx0SnlIj7vTVahbfblbF_WLN31TACcZYfjb0SUQBM0LSYizzXF4eXSlHh8gBW6POhxmDmxH0aEJ9emGF272vFpNckh-EAdYnUjC2dU3a_4F5PMlfOlv-fnRZA4sAX/w625-h416/Ruth-115_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We pulled her against me, and I immediately noticed her cord felt much shorter than it had been with Lucy. Rather than resting against my chest, she was mostly curled against my abdomen. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhjRzp-knmBtH4TuYQHPTfoUygBPSZqI9iZ7qP2IMkxy1_PzwXwtYvbFNhuJ9-l7o6OGONI1R4rG2wWlofa8uFtOhoCu0VSSdCnJ81N39eSqWWABmeq37qezp8-ldyqNEYV_s61hCdwl63/s1600/Ruth-116_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhjRzp-knmBtH4TuYQHPTfoUygBPSZqI9iZ7qP2IMkxy1_PzwXwtYvbFNhuJ9-l7o6OGONI1R4rG2wWlofa8uFtOhoCu0VSSdCnJ81N39eSqWWABmeq37qezp8-ldyqNEYV_s61hCdwl63/w625-h416/Ruth-116_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>From this angle, I was able to see her more fully and marvel at how <i>different</i> she looked than anything I anticipated. Her face was swollen, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks ruddy on one side <i>(likely from her nuchal fist)</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4a7cf7Ug8Y3CIRA16yXDy6gwbK8XqZO3FcbVFteWmz-elpngbRQBu5Y_YNEqMo2tPcUEKuAIopmvIaJTkPCS1-hEg95y8gnPx-cxtvnxQacC-kQfLDXNkcDsmertLU414UoB-kIzwserl/s1600/Ruth-117_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4a7cf7Ug8Y3CIRA16yXDy6gwbK8XqZO3FcbVFteWmz-elpngbRQBu5Y_YNEqMo2tPcUEKuAIopmvIaJTkPCS1-hEg95y8gnPx-cxtvnxQacC-kQfLDXNkcDsmertLU414UoB-kIzwserl/w625-h416/Ruth-117_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><i><font size="2">Birth is a crazy thing. I carried this tiny being with me for 40 full weeks, intimately experiencing her kicks and stretches, hiccups and head drills, and yet...she was still a complete stranger to me. However, to her, I was the most familiar thing in the world. <b>To her, I was home.</b></font></i><b> </b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnA0jcvEotQHdvphdRWUb_FI1tHGJBxPwY1a9ALuv6EbzRBtGZgh537kapRsC60AFdxQyUrzm0YIIbb3H___9yTTnSHXojyoyY2hGoTupLq2Sf7QNpU6y-gghpj2-jrvKafEI0x_ZX6OP7/s1600/Ruth-121_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnA0jcvEotQHdvphdRWUb_FI1tHGJBxPwY1a9ALuv6EbzRBtGZgh537kapRsC60AFdxQyUrzm0YIIbb3H___9yTTnSHXojyoyY2hGoTupLq2Sf7QNpU6y-gghpj2-jrvKafEI0x_ZX6OP7/w625-h416/Ruth-121_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Ruth was born at 10:44pm on Wednesday, July 17, 2020 (her exact due date). She weighed 7lbs 6oz and was 20 in long. My labor consisted of approximately 13 hrs of beautifully slow-building early labor and 3 hrs of active labor (including just 5 precious mins of pushing).</b></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-90282223156825507572020-07-15T15:38:00.005-07:002020-07-15T21:27:20.012-07:00The Birth of Ruth, Part 2: Active Labor<div><b><font size="5">7:00pm</font></b></div><div>It was nearing Lucy's bedtime, so I made my way downstairs, intending to savor my final moments with her as my only child. She was delightedly playing with her "Daniel Tiger House" and I attempted to join in, pausing through some stronger contractions. I thought I was doing a pretty good job concealing my discomfort, but Lucy is exceedingly perceptive. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lucy:<i>"Mama, why are you stopping like that?" </i><br /><br />Me:<i>"Well, baby, I'm having a contraction."</i><br /><br />Lucy (immediately excited): <i>"Mama! Ruth is pushing on your cervix! You just gotta make strong sounds. Go like this...Unnnhhhh." </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I wanted to indulge her <span style="background-color: white;">"<a href="https://youtu.be/OK9xmddtW7o" target="_blank">labor expertise</a>,"</span> so I began to mock-vocalize through my next contraction, however my body took the cue. All of the sudden, things began to shift. I turned to Justin and Erlys and said, <i>"I need you to put Lucy to bed </i><b><u>now</u></b><i>, please." </i></div><div><br /></div><div><i>My entire pregnancy, I had debated whether I would want Lucy present for her sister's birth, but in that moment I just </i><b><u>knew</u></b><i> my body was waiting for her to be asleep before it could fully take over. I kissed her goodnight and went into action.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><b><font size="5">7:30pm</font></b></div><div>I paged the <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://vivantemidwifery.com/" target="_blank">midwives</a>. </span>We spoke briefly on the phone and made a plan for them to come to our house within the next hour or so. <i><font size="2">(Side note: Midwives are amazing. Their ability to assess and interpret labor progress over the phone is such a gift!)</font></i></div><div><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div>Once Lucy was officially in bed, we dimmed the lights and started the birth playlist. I donned my labor necklace, which had been lovingly made for me by our friends and family - <i>each bead strung with an intentional thought or prayer for Ruth and I.</i> Justin stepped outside to display our <span style="background-color: white;">lawn flamingo; the official n</span>eighborhood-code that labor had begun. Our windows were open (though the curtains were drawn) and I heard a few neighbors immediately react to this symbol. Swaying slowly by myself inside the living room, I laughed - bolstered by their excitement.</div><div><font size="2"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-lSCZQZo4brcSSMsI2SxB2EVebnmWz9E8vX3iqiToU4oV6lbo5TDu1LxZ2QmRByhxS36Td_askiJexGEVmd0ddtFxYYFmeJa01YOa-jkZMEC1ohEUWNsOhR8OGc6CXzWk5lwwL69hRBc/s2048/FullSizeR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1452" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-lSCZQZo4brcSSMsI2SxB2EVebnmWz9E8vX3iqiToU4oV6lbo5TDu1LxZ2QmRByhxS36Td_askiJexGEVmd0ddtFxYYFmeJa01YOa-jkZMEC1ohEUWNsOhR8OGc6CXzWk5lwwL69hRBc/w355-h500/FullSizeR.jpg" width="355" /></a></div><div><br /><b><font size="5">8:50pm</font></b></div><div>The midwives arrived and began assessing me and making final preparations to the birth space. </div><div><br /></div><div><font size="5"><b>9:22pm</b></font></div><div>I self-consciously texted our <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://www.laurenlabarre.com/" target="_blank">birth photographer</a> </span>an update, ironically nervous I was unnecessarily burdening her too early:<i>"I really hope you aren't here forever and ever, amen. Both because I will feel bad, and also because I want this to be over!"</i></div><div><b style="text-align: center;"><font face="inherit"><br /></font></b></div><div><span style="text-align: center;"><font face="inherit"><b><u>These texts exchanges would serve as my first clue that, for some reason, I was concerning myself too much with others rather than focusing on my body's progress.</u> </b></font></span><span style="background-color: white;">Luckily she trusted her instincts and was already on her way to my house. </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">(the rest of the photos for this birth story are from the lovely and talented <a href="https://www.laurenlabarre.com/" target="_blank">Lauren LaBarre</a>)</font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqjupAF-6Y13Gbpqky53NzCVlEQL4-dsVeLQnkWG9xA3Ak2Cvju40oC1_zf_-7R8fAxLCRzznpBQANdWuORJHW6yrPD5ivapWwo3-WSt2bm_KDkdNN2E7CMhF4dESzBmjZq2jp1mSiKea/s1600/Ruth-11_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqjupAF-6Y13Gbpqky53NzCVlEQL4-dsVeLQnkWG9xA3Ak2Cvju40oC1_zf_-7R8fAxLCRzznpBQANdWuORJHW6yrPD5ivapWwo3-WSt2bm_KDkdNN2E7CMhF4dESzBmjZq2jp1mSiKea/w625-h416/Ruth-11_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAEPJsd2LtWSaQFCwvab2lzE-IYgVBWv1dpJyfRzArN_w82SjiNRlCGP-JH98biKeklPtihVjYivcEEWcTsjOWxQIRHmclDOVgaNuM4zJhuWWXaRD1exCX4ifxI2Wb9S-SyzQSsc6zuKK/s1600/Ruth-37_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAEPJsd2LtWSaQFCwvab2lzE-IYgVBWv1dpJyfRzArN_w82SjiNRlCGP-JH98biKeklPtihVjYivcEEWcTsjOWxQIRHmclDOVgaNuM4zJhuWWXaRD1exCX4ifxI2Wb9S-SyzQSsc6zuKK/w625-h416/Ruth-37_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div>Justin and I were mostly given space to labor alone together, with the midwives only quietly intervening periodically to check on Ruth's heart rate and assess my vitals.</div><div><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsB4B9chxvQlYRWvmqdn4iSGCEb6U5pbphmvwcoPaOuoFNKGP8ZpYf-U1W_g66c1JWaxy-uw97DNLqNLoJC2gvGUrvFBih-ibf4GKo1kbackkR8wWvr_bKltFWQBh7wbdXqx-ZjoDb-P2/s1600/Ruth-22_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsB4B9chxvQlYRWvmqdn4iSGCEb6U5pbphmvwcoPaOuoFNKGP8ZpYf-U1W_g66c1JWaxy-uw97DNLqNLoJC2gvGUrvFBih-ibf4GKo1kbackkR8wWvr_bKltFWQBh7wbdXqx-ZjoDb-P2/w520-h781/Ruth-22_websize.jpg" width="520" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><font size="1"><br /></font></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent;">We danced and moved through contractions. </span>My </span><span>birth affirmations</span><span style="background-color: white;"> <i>(the same ones I used for Lucy's birth)</i> were splayed out on the coffee table, and I attempted to tune into them, though the pressure of Ruth's descending body was feeling rather acute. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmDFIOzmNg7Iv7erRhDlMxYmm7gmK_Nj9tS1ABF-oWhPxZ-2VpXO4D0n76gGo4DGmTBUfpJlPFs7VqWckQPGH52D39gyBfba83SdFS46yecNr5raarEtS9c7y2DwBri0AJdtit5H8rfuK/s1600/Ruth-6_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1087" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmDFIOzmNg7Iv7erRhDlMxYmm7gmK_Nj9tS1ABF-oWhPxZ-2VpXO4D0n76gGo4DGmTBUfpJlPFs7VqWckQPGH52D39gyBfba83SdFS46yecNr5raarEtS9c7y2DwBri0AJdtit5H8rfuK/w625-h424/Ruth-6_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><b><font size="5">9:27pm</font><font size="4"> </font></b><i><b><font size="2">(mere minutes after our birth photographer arrived)</font></b></i></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent;">There was a noticeable shift in my contraction intensity. </span>No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't seem to get the <span>counter-pressure</span> right <i><font size="2">(though kudos to Justin for not giving up)</font>. </i></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><font size="1"><br /></font></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg28xmja1Ucf8TneW-M_-6ys7qHJPgnh52am2DgKfYADmYGNrUZlfciYhVA16Y5YmDUHGhqCPzR_0wLuOO89uCNBF_MMrdXFvxDo_Puf8CXrAkf58yGlxyH7phNBDOC6MDbuOQYmEFwoCxG/s1600/Ruth-30_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg28xmja1Ucf8TneW-M_-6ys7qHJPgnh52am2DgKfYADmYGNrUZlfciYhVA16Y5YmDUHGhqCPzR_0wLuOO89uCNBF_MMrdXFvxDo_Puf8CXrAkf58yGlxyH7phNBDOC6MDbuOQYmEFwoCxG/w625-h416/Ruth-30_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWNVyeDGJf57N6Qn860Q92ZdmNgMACHA0VnSeEwgp8uOxLvO6Y8rnybzWfAKvkIxR-H6sRVKF6ZVDSydilrVby4uiir6t5MbdqxqJQKVhgHC0K-8Si_eJZeL5FcyoZmPZaJRg81zwEi5J/s1600/Ruth-33_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWNVyeDGJf57N6Qn860Q92ZdmNgMACHA0VnSeEwgp8uOxLvO6Y8rnybzWfAKvkIxR-H6sRVKF6ZVDSydilrVby4uiir6t5MbdqxqJQKVhgHC0K-8Si_eJZeL5FcyoZmPZaJRg81zwEi5J/w416-h625/Ruth-33_websize.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><font size="2">I love the way this image portrays the tenderness which surrounded me in my labor.</font></i></div><div><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div>Just as I found myself secretly feeling discouraged by my self-perceived lack of strength, my midwives suggested we start filling the birth tub. This process takes approximately 40 mins, but simply knowing relief was coming gave me a needed boost.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY42NxyKErzAwaktoG46OxhGjX61HkBvZKwhSt8xytb31iF03ix1ERzRhYLUtgp12HVtr1EOGP7LKS86WEzmNGtJq0UeFyqVa1KcAyRO4KhcLi-mhdv620lRJLwsCym2aAupVR_a4TemMT/s1600/Ruth-43_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY42NxyKErzAwaktoG46OxhGjX61HkBvZKwhSt8xytb31iF03ix1ERzRhYLUtgp12HVtr1EOGP7LKS86WEzmNGtJq0UeFyqVa1KcAyRO4KhcLi-mhdv620lRJLwsCym2aAupVR_a4TemMT/w625-h416/Ruth-43_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><br /><b><font size="5">10:10pm</font></b></div><div>I opted to use the bathroom before getting in the birth tub. As I experienced a powerful contraction, I vividly remember leaning against the sink for support and watching myself in the mirror. I noticed something in my nose, which I hastily wiped away, embarrassed it might otherwise be seen in my birth images <i><font size="2">(the irony of me sharing this now is not lost on me)</font></i>. </div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><u>This was another clue that I was bizarrely more concerned with external factors than I was my own body.</u></b></div><font size="1"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanH94o8Ov9OHyccvHWyuPWxdbfM3ZQZYhBr5iiKDC-5KEqpuGlN0ywkxtZjivW4ake4DG0obJtVpnvnjrogKc53d1lquhmdscAoYZmzZQEmAXhFZOmcW79iOc-2b8NZupw15yewgje_Ri/s1600/Ruth-47_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanH94o8Ov9OHyccvHWyuPWxdbfM3ZQZYhBr5iiKDC-5KEqpuGlN0ywkxtZjivW4ake4DG0obJtVpnvnjrogKc53d1lquhmdscAoYZmzZQEmAXhFZOmcW79iOc-2b8NZupw15yewgje_Ri/w625-h416/Ruth-47_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I threw my hair into a bun and eagerly stepped into the birth tub. The buoyancy and warmth offered immediate soothing, and yet when the next surge came, I celebrated that labor was still in full force. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbNg9GtckrUjww09RX1f7dBsT57tY2GdUFT6VyShnt49vwD2JksJr4bhxU4TfMiRLg9eH6bafei7cKhD3HOhUaWaapCiYsg_J6Co8fiLgT-h2i4mNOH7UD20-BPdVLTpLS_ceMu42NAaE/s1600/Ruth-80_websize.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbNg9GtckrUjww09RX1f7dBsT57tY2GdUFT6VyShnt49vwD2JksJr4bhxU4TfMiRLg9eH6bafei7cKhD3HOhUaWaapCiYsg_J6Co8fiLgT-h2i4mNOH7UD20-BPdVLTpLS_ceMu42NAaE/w625-h416/Ruth-80_websize.jpg" width="625" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-89735730663557504852020-07-14T21:12:00.008-07:002020-07-15T21:22:37.766-07:00The Birth of Ruth, Part 1: Early Labor<div>Imagine my delight when I woke around 5:30 the morning of my due date to a strong contraction. <i>Could it be?</i> I lay in bed and waited, and sure enough another one came. Everyone else was still asleep, so I breathed quietly through a few more before my excitement got the best of me and I waddled downstairs for a long shower. </div><div><font size="1"> </font><br />I found my mother-in-law and told her the good news, then I slowly made my way back upstairs to wake Justin. <i style="background-color: white;">"Hey, wanna have a baby today?" </i><br /></div><div><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div>Lucy called out from her crib shortly after and we both went in to get her. Since we weren't sure when or how I'd go into labor, <a href="https://youtu.be/OK9xmddtW7o">we'd been </a><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://youtu.be/OK9xmddtW7o" target="_blank">prepping her for weeks</a> </span>in case she was present for the birth. Her eyes lit up when I shared that her sister was likely coming that day, and she immediately went into what Justin and I refer to as "Project Manager Mode." <br /><i><font size="1"> </font><br /><b>"Okay mommy. I will bring Puppy </b></i><b>(her special lovey)<i> to comfort you. I know you can push that baby out. You are so strong!"</i></b><br /><br /></div><div>Wanting to center myself in as much familiar strength as possible, I dressed myself in <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2017/09/part-1-very-early-labor.html" target="_blank">the same outfit I wore the day I went into labor with Lucy</a> </span>and snapped my final weekly bump photo.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwSSt_dBG6A174cby-V0ZiBrTOYAcfC30YKWCZm2I-oVFOw0klFZr9Rr6i7m2zcakfn0FXby3fWQZ0WxG4z5uOih93F5rF_Z3J7RyaCixZ4xcGNNaFEelpa58nUUYK5KsR4h4X-LKHdmg/s2048/IMG_20190717_075809.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwSSt_dBG6A174cby-V0ZiBrTOYAcfC30YKWCZm2I-oVFOw0klFZr9Rr6i7m2zcakfn0FXby3fWQZ0WxG4z5uOih93F5rF_Z3J7RyaCixZ4xcGNNaFEelpa58nUUYK5KsR4h4X-LKHdmg/w375-h500/IMG_20190717_075809.jpg" width="375" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><font size="2">I call this my "lucky labor dress."</font></i></div><div><br />The next several hours were spent leisurely doing whatever the heck I wanted as I intentionally boosted my oxytocin and relaxed into labor:<br /><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Lucy and I snuggled and bounced together on the yoga ball</li><li>Justin brought me a hearty breakfast in bed</li><li>I watched a few Netflix shows to make me laugh</li><li>Justin and I strolled around the neighborhood, casually waving at neighbors, as I subtly squeezed his hand every once in a while through a contraction - reveling in the precious secret occurring inside of me as we walked</li><li>I made phone calls to register Lucy for preschool</li><li>We attempted a family nap</li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpW3hds4FBs8g5Rd_KV8NV1JONYa_h06p-ic1PFNoeZ_DN3MSZJnsL9e6iyGI4ZGcJnUhbZy7pTZHEu9ddH7FyDl5JDSTK2t-brnlNzY_3igi7YAv3DtH_go1M7SQib59QMLru5c0fBo6/s1080/PicsArt_07-11-11.49.31.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpW3hds4FBs8g5Rd_KV8NV1JONYa_h06p-ic1PFNoeZ_DN3MSZJnsL9e6iyGI4ZGcJnUhbZy7pTZHEu9ddH7FyDl5JDSTK2t-brnlNzY_3igi7YAv3DtH_go1M7SQib59QMLru5c0fBo6/w500-h500/PicsArt_07-11-11.49.31.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>All day long the contractions continued, persistent but un-patterned. Amazingly, <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-birth-of-ruth-prequel-waiting-game.html" target="_blank">the anxiety I had been carrying</a></span> for the last several weeks lifted as I settled into the comfortable space of trusting that my body, and my baby, knew what to do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Around 4:00pm, I experienced the kind of craving that just cannot be ignored. I hopped in my car for my last solo-adventure, breathing through several contractions on the short drive to Burgerville. I returned home, satiated by my labor-fuel, and retreated back upstairs for more solitude and rest. I instinctively knew this was time to preserve as much energy as possible...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-46412201598906241052020-07-14T21:06:00.001-07:002020-07-14T21:09:06.634-07:00The Birth of Ruth (Prequel): The Waiting GameAfter <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2017/09/part-1-very-early-labor.html" target="_blank">Lucy's early arrival</a></span>, it should serve as no surprise that I went into a hormonal nesting craze during our 36th week of pregnancy. <span style="background-color: white;">Grammy Erlys (Justin's mom) drove up from California and moved into our basement. We inventoried our supplies, inflated the birth tub, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/First-Forty-Days-Essential-Nourishing/dp/1617691836" target="_blank">stocked our freezer</a>...and waited. And waited. And waited some more.</span><div><font size="1"><br /></font><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gs0KDduy_pr9-EmW12-F3RpMqgYvok48RAKr5ZLd0eBdIO64zjXJfyL0-aEFtCGn5kV8oAaMqMh-yiT8KsxCpAYVTyiR4H9lFwlFz4xJuR26tQpjoBlKLkxYMqMjCpBF1EmhnrXqctMC/s1080/PicsArt_07-11-11.22.53.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><font size="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gs0KDduy_pr9-EmW12-F3RpMqgYvok48RAKr5ZLd0eBdIO64zjXJfyL0-aEFtCGn5kV8oAaMqMh-yiT8KsxCpAYVTyiR4H9lFwlFz4xJuR26tQpjoBlKLkxYMqMjCpBF1EmhnrXqctMC/w625-h625/PicsArt_07-11-11.22.53.jpg" width="625" /></font></a></div><div><div><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div>Ironically, the longer I was pregnant, the more my anxiety grew about Ruth's arrival. Everyone warned me the second birth can go really fast, especially given how straightforward my first labor was. So, each night I'd put Lucy to bed as an only child, wondering whether or not she'd wake up with a sibling. <i>And then each morning I'd wake up...still pregnant.</i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-eb-JdicMC_Ynf6lZ0p0D6XKY8DIlv9P8xi4qDrY7M_77mEvzawulgZSVwonPEt1dCkLZAuTadbH5e0Y-uXNPNspo8WjF4CtiMzUgkY2FLzsFWoZUDYduCSNgXgh_YQ6e4gAQDWVBO-b_/s2048/IMG_20190620_104848.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-eb-JdicMC_Ynf6lZ0p0D6XKY8DIlv9P8xi4qDrY7M_77mEvzawulgZSVwonPEt1dCkLZAuTadbH5e0Y-uXNPNspo8WjF4CtiMzUgkY2FLzsFWoZUDYduCSNgXgh_YQ6e4gAQDWVBO-b_/w625-h469/IMG_20190620_104848.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><font size="2">Lucy "helping" the <a href="https://vivantemidwifery.com/" target="_blank">midwives</a> check in on her baby sister during our 36 week prenatal appointment.</font></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div>I tried my best to reframe my experience in my mind - <i>I honestly had no idea my body could grow a baby this long! </i>I marveled at the way my skin continued to stretch and my organs rearranged, accommodating this miraculously still-growing creature.</div><div><br /></div><div>As the weeks progressed, however, my emotional discomfort began to supersede even my physical discomfort. I struggled with feeling like everyone was waiting for something I clearly had no control over. Erlys had already been with us for weeks and still no baby! <br /><br />So, we tried some "labor encouragement" tricks: spicy food, fresh pineapple, <i>walking</i>, acupuncture, climbing the stairs at "<span style="background-color: white;">Mt. Labor</span>" (Tabor), <i>more walking</i>, <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://youtu.be/eitrLoZ8VKs" target="_blank">dancing</a>, power shopping through Costco, <i>even more walking</i>...along with</span> a few other things ;). I declined my <span style="background-color: white;">midwife's</span> offer to sweep my membranes at our 39 week appointment, but told myself I would allow this intervention if I still hadn't gone into labor by my next appointment - which was on my due date.</div><div><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinc7oFZ4ejQ_ZU5xJsukPowoS7OFj8ZYrw-qecfwfV9EnMMxHIsiVkFTmoTERr-EGlcgITfHU3VmwsjfeqliR25KleEn8z_DkpBGf3inJ49BBagnEUadj07RcnJ_FjrIvOPckbHKFxiF6D/s2048/IMG_20190710_165619.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinc7oFZ4ejQ_ZU5xJsukPowoS7OFj8ZYrw-qecfwfV9EnMMxHIsiVkFTmoTERr-EGlcgITfHU3VmwsjfeqliR25KleEn8z_DkpBGf3inJ49BBagnEUadj07RcnJ_FjrIvOPckbHKFxiF6D/w469-h625/IMG_20190710_165619.jpg" width="469" /></a></div><div><font size="1"><br /></font></div><div>The night before this scheduled appointment, my anxiety was particularly high. It may seem silly given how standard they are in most hospital birthing experiences, but I'd <i>never</i> had a cervical check before and was really dreading what I anticipated would feel like a harsh, invasive experience if I chose to sweep my membranes. Positional and bodily autonomy <i>(ahem, and the absence of stirrups) </i>are just some of the many luxuries of a Home Birth experience.</div><div><br /></div><div>Luckily, as is often the case with anxiety, my worries were needless...</div><div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-88862192336413693062017-09-17T14:43:00.000-07:002017-09-17T14:43:09.010-07:00The Birth of Lucy, Part 5: The Afterbirth (because when I was pregnant, I always wanted to know more about this part...)<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, Lucy was finally here...but there was still work to do.</span><br />
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We snuggled for a few moments and then I was encouraged to try pushing the placenta. The absolute last thing I wanted to do ever in my life was push again, but I obediently attempted a few pushes while still leaning against Justin before we determined gravity was, indeed, my best friend. So, clutching my newborn child to my chest, I hoisted myself back up onto my knees and mustered one final strong push while my <a href="http://www.portlandnaturalbirth.com/">midwives</a> gently tugged on the cord, and then it was over. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I delivered the placenta 12 minutes after I delivered Lucy. The tub filled with blood, my placenta was caught in a metal bowl and allowed to float next to us while it <a href="http://americanpregnancy.org/labor-and-birth/delayed-cord-clamping-risks-benefits/">finished pulsing</a>, and we resumed our family snuggling. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWAOZRQ1CbPVB5DvDZW3VU0hOHvHofjR7SzqSkZ-HjEoPMlf264L39lHFR_UhkUH-grHOV2DEhyphenhyphenyBpXklVv3AiIcoMPiqrmpvFOEggOYVvStndZA9roFsGw1y_xvQSies1ZQ9uXi9MtHw/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1195" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWAOZRQ1CbPVB5DvDZW3VU0hOHvHofjR7SzqSkZ-HjEoPMlf264L39lHFR_UhkUH-grHOV2DEhyphenhyphenyBpXklVv3AiIcoMPiqrmpvFOEggOYVvStndZA9roFsGw1y_xvQSies1ZQ9uXi9MtHw/s640/FullSizeRender+%25286%2529.jpg" width="476" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For all you expectant mamas worrying about this part, I will reiterate what was promised to me: a placenta is infinitely easier to deliver than a human baby. It is soft. It does not have bones. YOU CAN DO IT.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Justin cut the cord while I comforted our daughter.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When it was time to get out of the tub, Justin emerged first. He changed into dry clothes and then Lucy was handed to him for the first time. Immediately he collapsed back onto the bed while he held her, and I was ushered off to the bathroom where I was once again forced to urinate.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQw66a8lSOfb-T-pmAcuwvbTnmVDOHzYwzkmWahyN1MUrkiFUf7gWK4qpJeLsOSVppbqgNx6wNQzfhCOZuX6cY3IEOEgkLInPu0TDNRajxR1Q1XOBXhyphenhyphenI4DXDPU4aOg1jIRhO0mjNb_wU/s1600/image1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQw66a8lSOfb-T-pmAcuwvbTnmVDOHzYwzkmWahyN1MUrkiFUf7gWK4qpJeLsOSVppbqgNx6wNQzfhCOZuX6cY3IEOEgkLInPu0TDNRajxR1Q1XOBXhyphenhyphenI4DXDPU4aOg1jIRhO0mjNb_wU/s640/image1.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was guided back to the bed where the midwives did a full examination, including the dreaded uterus squishing I'd read so much about.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lucy was placed back on my chest and she immediately began to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breast_crawl">breast crawl</a>.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> She latched almost instantly and presented with a strong, determined suckle. Mirra marveled at how unlike a 37 week baby her suck was, and while we didn't know it at the time, I see now how completely iconic of Lucy this was. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>My daughter has been determined to do life on her own terms from the start, and she wasn't about to wait another three weeks to begin her legacy.</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While Lucy and I tried to figure out nursing, our midwives rummaged around in the kitchen and presented me with a plate of snacks. Sourdough toast, apple slices, and mixed nuts. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><b>Literally the best meal I’ve ever tasted in my entire existence.</b></i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Justin still talks about watching me inhale that food. It was the first time in nearly 9 months that I'd sincerely felt hungry, and since I hadn't been able to keep my toast down earlier, it was also the first food I'd eaten in almost 24 hours. I have never felt so famished in my entire life.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The midwives busied themselves draining, sanitizing, and deflating the birth tub. They popped a lasagna in the oven and started a load of laundry. They examined Lucy right there at the end of the bed (and even then, asked if I felt comfortable having her "so far" from me). </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They gave us a head's up of what to expect that night, and reminded us they would be back in the morning for the first postnatal visit.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then, approximately 4.5 hours after they had arrived, they left.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>finally</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> texted our family to announce her arrival just before 5:15pm. They had been patiently waiting with zero updates since my earlier text just before noon! Per our midwives suggestion, we declined visitors for that night and settled in as a family of three.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I leaned my head against Justin and said, </span><i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>I can do </b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>anything</b>. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I just did that. I just delivered our daughter. Here. In our home. I can do ANYTHING."</span></i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I was riding such a high. I’d never felt so strong or so sure of my identity and my purpose in life.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Those of you who have been following my journey know this all changed within a matter of months as </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://www.postpartumprogress.com/the-symptoms-of-postpartum-depression-anxiety-in-plain-mama-english">PPD/A</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">sunk its ugly claws into my psyche, but for now I choose to reflect on that blissfully unshakeable sense of assurance immediately following the arrival of my daughter because THAT was the gift of home-birth to me.)</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-40143315267930768602017-09-17T01:10:00.002-07:002020-07-13T14:09:17.224-07:00The Birth of Lucy, Part 4: Transition and Pushing (the action post!)<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The contractions were mounting fiercely as I entered transition. Of course I didn't </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">know</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I was in transition at the time. All I knew was that I felt so much pressure and there was little relief in between. I started to whisper, "no, no, no" as each new contraction came on, and my <a href="http://www.portlandnaturalbirth.com/">midwives</a> were quick to remind me to breathe and keep my vocalizations nice and low. They located my birth affirmations and taped a few near the tub for me to focus on.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For some reason, I had stuck in my mind that Lucy wouldn't arrive until 8:30pm. I believe it was because <a href="https://www.kaitlynnchritton.com/">Kaitlynn</a> texted me to say she could come by then to take photos if I was still in labor, so I naturally assumed I would be. I glanced at the clock and saw that it wasn't even 2:30 and pictured another 6 hours of this intensity. I just wasn't that strong. I whispered to Justin, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"I don't know how much longer I can do this."</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5ibZPVenlxMYXyasj3llBy_adrcimZC1uuPFw_x2VSuUYleuTD9cwVcl7n4dgEtd-1dktnKOopLoE6pjzntFPPTHVRDgKUNqpV_-0XuUifwlptqgKSdcIsY_ypzzC0j2tZxpceH-pYrI/s1600/IMG_1632.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="1600" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5ibZPVenlxMYXyasj3llBy_adrcimZC1uuPFw_x2VSuUYleuTD9cwVcl7n4dgEtd-1dktnKOopLoE6pjzntFPPTHVRDgKUNqpV_-0XuUifwlptqgKSdcIsY_ypzzC0j2tZxpceH-pYrI/s640/IMG_1632.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I began to mentally prepare myself to say my codeword (signaling I wanted to transfer to the hospital) when suddenly </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>I felt the urge to push!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>So, first of all, I am living proof that the point in which you want to give up during labor is, bizarrely, just before you meet your miracle.</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And second of all, another shout out for home birth! When I announced I felt like I needed to push, I wasn't asked to move locations or lay on my back. No one insisted on doing a cervical check first (in fact, I had </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">zero</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> cervical checks my entire labor!). No one second-guessed me at all. Instead, Brandee, who had been kneeling in front of me and offering words of calming and support during my last few contractions simply said, </span><b><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Go for it.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">" </span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmmYMP9U9f2UlFXTrCpcld4FwMdzGWOyT02Nq5-Ol79hBiWBD1sg46WxTLkCFMsX1kw3KW220YaTD-5ogA_kIwP3eUrPfxPh3qRbLWcFwJtx_BDXByvJ4V-Z-zM08bzY276PJazObIw-rK/s1600/IMG_0730.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmmYMP9U9f2UlFXTrCpcld4FwMdzGWOyT02Nq5-Ol79hBiWBD1sg46WxTLkCFMsX1kw3KW220YaTD-5ogA_kIwP3eUrPfxPh3qRbLWcFwJtx_BDXByvJ4V-Z-zM08bzY276PJazObIw-rK/s640/IMG_0730.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And when I gripped her hands and let out an involuntary scream, she didn't hush me but rather cheered me on with an enthusiastic </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>"YES!"</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the periphery, I saw Mirra putting on gloves and grabbing her mirror and flashlight and I </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">knew:</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> this was it! No going back now, this baby was coming and she was coming at home, and </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was all I needed to unlock my primal brain.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgndHoAqVg6abHBkBUu4_jwnCjV05GH7bII6jhFTyj357_yyC5ivg9u-Zxs7chur7HlKIefdmFw65g9wXti9jxaRs38einUEpbkahmw_zEvKBqlxzPOipe0AoM9yK7iNjFoEiiy2f4gFbF/s1600/IMG_0735-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgndHoAqVg6abHBkBUu4_jwnCjV05GH7bII6jhFTyj357_yyC5ivg9u-Zxs7chur7HlKIefdmFw65g9wXti9jxaRs38einUEpbkahmw_zEvKBqlxzPOipe0AoM9yK7iNjFoEiiy2f4gFbF/s640/IMG_0735-1.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No longer needing to be subdued, I felt the freedom and power to completely let go because my birth team stayed with me. They didn't flinch or shy away. They didn't chastise me or in any way indicate my labor behaviors were anything other than exactly right for that moment. And in doing so, they encouraged and empowered me to access a level of strength I didn't know I possessed. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><b>I came absolutely to the edge of myself.</b></i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCL_Yk3lMk4FFtOt5daHyp1B1kDnEKWOoxUZSsjUaNqh59UMqxemwaVsWv6OCrqm5aS9HHlUIuxjgarbgJ7uOOgMmUOeQMO5L-5Aw98rdac1CxAWGLSF-nF_f48X1_-yqLe59rRf7bbahl/s1600/IMG_0735-3.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCL_Yk3lMk4FFtOt5daHyp1B1kDnEKWOoxUZSsjUaNqh59UMqxemwaVsWv6OCrqm5aS9HHlUIuxjgarbgJ7uOOgMmUOeQMO5L-5Aw98rdac1CxAWGLSF-nF_f48X1_-yqLe59rRf7bbahl/s640/IMG_0735-3.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You can see from these images that our midwives were so incredible about involving Justin in every aspect of Lucy’s birth. Even through the all-consuming intensity of pushing, </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember them checking in with him to make sure he could see from his position behind me.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">n between each surge, someone held a glass of pedialyte in front of my face and I obediently sipped from a straw </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(for all your expecting mamas, straws are basically the MVP of labor trinkets)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. While it logically made sense to me that </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">would need to stay hydrated during labor, I distinctly remember feeling (irrationally) annoyed when Justin was offered the same relief because it meant he wasn't immediately available to support me when the next wave inevitably came crashing down. (Make no mistake: my man was <i>incredibly</i> deserving of some water. I was an absolute labor task-master and he was with me every step of the way! He was completely dehydrated from the heat of the birthing tub and the exertion of so much counter-pressure. Labor just makes you kind of crazy...)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPFDOzFz-NO5FPeu9euiNYDkqIo97ms_ofY2t-DngxhlmzGkQSrliGp17KA9JuMmd8vvYKp89j3CpB2R3ziGXpxQzgS-jek0ajoALA0QeCKOaOJW4jgBDwwaAtFfd1bzjho9-AqJYHyiP/s1600/IMG_0743.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPFDOzFz-NO5FPeu9euiNYDkqIo97ms_ofY2t-DngxhlmzGkQSrliGp17KA9JuMmd8vvYKp89j3CpB2R3ziGXpxQzgS-jek0ajoALA0QeCKOaOJW4jgBDwwaAtFfd1bzjho9-AqJYHyiP/s640/IMG_0743.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 13.3333px; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can laugh about it now, and it's why I chose to include this blurry photo because even in the fierceness of pushing, I so vividly remember this moment. This picture is time-stamped less than 5 minutes before Lucy was born.
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><span style="font-size: 13.3333px; font-style: normal;">After enduring so many hours of allowing Lucy to take the lead as she moved herself into position, I was finally able to </span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;"><i>join</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px; font-style: normal;"> her in the work, and together we made quite the efficient team.</span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Within a few pushes, I was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>convinced</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I must be crowning, and was crushed to hear Mirra excitedly call out, "I see labial separation." (I'm sorry, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">just</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> labial separation? You mean there isn't a head yet?)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But it was only a few more pushes until I was encouraged to reach down and touch Lucy’s hair, and by the next contraction I was finally actually crowning. It burned so badly, I didn't think I could push anymore, and was given permission by my birth team to just rest. It sounds strange since I felt like I was being torn in two, but I palmed the top of Lucy's head for an entire contraction because I instinctively needed to savor that final moment before she arrived. In the background, I heard Mirra giving Justin instructions for how to catch Lucy when she emerged. As the next contraction came, I was told I could just do "itty bitty pushes" if I wanted, but I was more than ready to meet my daughter. I bore down for one final push and Lucy shot out, head to toe, like a torpedo.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She came so fast, no one actually caught her at first! Then, Justin reached from behind and Mirra and Brandee from in front and they scooped her into my arms. I collapsed back onto her daddy in a blurry mixture of exhaustion and accomplished bliss.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSSrQfZ_i1lrz2TPq56MCqzjr-WL0stigy_YSxqzyx0gn0VMEAz9EaBLGuaXiJujwb3aZ7bRw7gfdlYYPbrre_TOcye2hq6vNL3R04TqJP0DCAZ18NtQGnSXjIlJu_cEVI9rlBkq17Zb2/s1600/IMG_0759.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSSrQfZ_i1lrz2TPq56MCqzjr-WL0stigy_YSxqzyx0gn0VMEAz9EaBLGuaXiJujwb3aZ7bRw7gfdlYYPbrre_TOcye2hq6vNL3R04TqJP0DCAZ18NtQGnSXjIlJu_cEVI9rlBkq17Zb2/s640/IMG_0759.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lucy turned pink and began hollering immediately. Her skin was covered in vernix “frosting” and downy lanugo from her early arrival. I held her to my chest, looked down at her little squishy, swollen face, and in my overwhelm could only muster a "hi." Then I looked up at Justin and noticed he was weeping and - I know this is cliche - but I just...I fell in love with him all over again. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0k991i3RTY5eRV-Fhvmmtb7vpQgHU7nQfacftCmiDjqkHjbKTYDYGUQH-3im-mMgVuZgHqjuDW8j8m7pi-udHL61vSF_sMN-FvG6C5goI5whFIfSKke3uk3OTrVqFFEFx7EHQ2sxN1ou/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25284%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1254" data-original-width="1506" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0k991i3RTY5eRV-Fhvmmtb7vpQgHU7nQfacftCmiDjqkHjbKTYDYGUQH-3im-mMgVuZgHqjuDW8j8m7pi-udHL61vSF_sMN-FvG6C5goI5whFIfSKke3uk3OTrVqFFEFx7EHQ2sxN1ou/s640/FullSizeRender+%25284%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out that impressive cone-head!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNFAUdpcN-nYjP8ghyphenhyphen7P7h9PPrzg_TMcS-ivJjDIF50u3xOJYtqdByxIJi-hcMLgPtOw-WF78SrLGwW1npOvlHGvmIr6tqR2UQQyCAbNYH8YNQjiwPTA60gq7bm_ee7RgavM1JpsDAEgf/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25285%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1034" data-original-width="1600" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNFAUdpcN-nYjP8ghyphenhyphen7P7h9PPrzg_TMcS-ivJjDIF50u3xOJYtqdByxIJi-hcMLgPtOw-WF78SrLGwW1npOvlHGvmIr6tqR2UQQyCAbNYH8YNQjiwPTA60gq7bm_ee7RgavM1JpsDAEgf/s640/FullSizeRender+%25285%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our Lucy was born at 2:59pm on Sunday, September 18th, 2016. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She weighed 6lbs 10oz and was</span><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">20 i</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">nches long. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>My labor consisted of approximately 10 hours of early labor and 4 hours of active labor - including 28 glorious minutes of pushing. </b>(Pushing was my favorite part. Honestly.)</span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her birth didn’t look exactly how I planned it would. I had intended to have an immaculately clean house, candles burning and soothing worship music playing, professional photos taken, and birth affirmations read and prayed over me (oh and I was going to be totally zen the entire time and just peacefully "breathe my baby into the world"); but none of that happened because </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><b>Lucy wrote her own birth story</b></i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and it was perfectly raw and beautiful (and blessedly fast!).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know I wrote this story with a tinge of my typical sarcasm, but I think that's because I don't know how to really articulate how </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>birth was truly the most empowering and beautiful experience of my entire life.</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I’ve never felt more in tune with my own body. I trusted my daughter to tell me what to do, and my birth team trusted </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>me</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to bring her into the world in my own way. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When she arrived, I felt super-human. I had just delivered a baby, in my own home, without taking so much as a tylenol. Whimpy little me. I DID THAT.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Home birth isn’t a desire, or even an option, for some; but for me it was absolutely the right choice and I’m so unbelievably grateful to my husband and our birth team for supporting me in making this dream a reality.</b></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-7954218353243509512017-09-17T00:51:00.001-07:002017-09-17T15:23:29.053-07:00The Birth of Lucy, Part 3: Active Labor<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">11:00am</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Justin leapt out of bed and immediately sprung into action, helping me into the shower where I welcomed the comfort the hot water brought as I bounced on the yoga ball. I was relaying instructions for setting up the birthing tub when my next contraction began and I instinctively stood up. We both heard the undeniable "pop" as my water broke. I laughed in relief - </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>what a perfect space for this to happen! </i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">- and then urged Justin to call </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mirra</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (our <a href="http://www.portlandnaturalbirth.com/">midwife</a>). </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She instructed him over the phone to use her doppler and check on Lucy's heart rate, and then said she would plan to come over in an hour. I realized we needed to conserve every drop of hot water to fill the (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>ahem, </i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>still deflated</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) birthing tub, so I reluctantly got out of the shower and Justin helped me down the stairs. He set me up with a heating pad and the yoga ball and made me some toast (which I promptly threw up, of course), and then began frantically dashing back and forth from the guest room to the living room as he attempted to set up the birthing tub while also offering me counter-pressure for each contraction ALL BY HIMSELF. I knew he needed help. This pace was not sustainable, and I selfishly wanted him by my side without interruption</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">12:15pm - ish (approximations are the best I can do at this point, because I was in ACTIVE LABOR)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I texted an update to our family asking for prayer and miraculously shortly after, our front door opened and in walked Mirra and her apprentice, like sweet glorious birthing angels. They immediately set to work, pumping up the birthing tub and taking over counter-pressure duties. My contractions were intensifying and for some reason we moved into the kitchen. Blessedly Justin was able to return to my side. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">best friend <a href="https://www.kaitlynnchritton.com/">Kaitlynn</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was originally slated to capture our birth, but she was busy photographing a wedding that day (note <a href="https://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2017/09/part-2-early-labor-or-one-with-no.html">aforementioned</a> inconvenience of Lucy’s chosen arrival date). Thankfully our midwives grabbed our cell phones throughout the next few hours and documented our journey into parenthood. I love these images because they show how in sync Justin was with my contractions. He was completely </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>with </i>me.</span><br />
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With each new surge, I asked (begged!) to get into the tub. It felt like it was taking </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">forever</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to fill and I was so desperate to be in water! When it was finally ready, I was told I just had to urinate first before I could get in the tub. So, the only thing standing between me and the sweet sweet promise of hot water was my own dang bladder. Simple enough. I waddled into the bathroom...and promptly forgot how to pee. My brain was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>so consumed</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> with the intensity of labor, I literally could not figure it out. And even though the bathroom door was wide open, I was alone as everyone else was busy with birth prep. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt another contraction starting and instinctively stood up. Our secondary midwife, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.brandeegrider.com/">Brandee</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, arrived at just this moment and found me, standing there above the toilet, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">panicked</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and desperate for relief. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>BIRTH IS SO HUMBLING, Y'ALL.</i></b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Using her midwife magic, she somehow circumvented my </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">panic</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and reminded me how to void, and I was finally given the green light to enter the birthing tub.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2:00pm - ish</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Good Lord in Heaven! I immediately felt so comforted by the deep warmth enveloping my achy body. Still, I endured only a few contractions in the tub by myself before I decided it wasn't enough to have him reaching over the tub to support me; I needed by birth partner in it </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">with</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> me. Justin raced upstairs in between my next surges to change into his swim suit. I remember hearing him use the bathroom and yelling for him to HURRY because my next contraction was coming fast. We learned in our </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://www.lovelightchildbirth.com/">birthing class</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> about the diminished language abilities women experience during labor, and this was so completely true for me. It felt like all my brain was capable of was demanding things like “hurry” and "push! Push! PUSH!" (I was simply a glutton for counter-pressure). </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I still felt compelled to make my body as vertical as possible for each contraction but thanks to the padding of the inflated birthing tub, I was able to rise onto my knees instead of standing. I would then collapse back against Justin once the pressure subsided. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mirra frequently checked in on Lucy using her doppler, and - though she never requested it of me - I tried </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">so</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> hard to be compliant and remain in a reclined position that made it easy for her to access my belly, but once the pressure began intensifying I simply said, "nope" and pushed myself upright again. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Having the freedom to listen to my body and move into the positions it told me to be in was the single greatest blessing of my home birth. I was completely unhindered the entire time.</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-89115590533493494072017-09-17T00:44:00.000-07:002017-09-17T15:17:06.137-07:00The Birth of Lucy, Part 2: Early Labor (or, the one with no pictures)<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">11:00pm</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After Justin left for work, I took my nightly dose of Unisom and Vitamin B6 (a combination used to combat <a href="http://americanpregnancy.org/pregnancy-complications/hyperemesis-gravidarum/">Hyperemesis Gravidarum</a></span><span style="background-color: white;">)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I even “treated” myself to a whole tab of Unisom in hopes I might get a good night's sleep so I could feel rested for the intense labor I expected would come in the morning. I then enjoyed a warm bath and slipped into bed.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1:00am</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I woke just a few hours later to contractions so strong I could no longer sleep through them. They finally seemed patterned, so I began timing them, and texted Justin to let him know they were approximately 8 mins apart.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 6pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: super; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(I later learned he did not have any cell service in the area of the hospital he was working that night and never received any of my texts. Luckily my sister was still living in Kuwait at the time, and it was mid-morning there, so she kept me company during my frequent </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>"OMG it's happening"</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> texts)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hoping warm water might offer me some relief, I attempted to take another bath, but quickly found that to be more frustrating than helpful as my body insisted on standing for each contraction (no small feat with my giant belly in a slippery tub). </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4:00am</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Things were getting intense and I finally decided I no longer wanted to be alone. I called Justin at work and asked if he could please come home. It wasn’t possible for him to leave since they were already so short-staffed, but he offered me an obligatory, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Call me if anything changes."</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I rather maturely held back from snapping,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "Why the hell do you think I just called you?"</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (because really, it wasn't his fault), put on my bathrobe, re-did my hair (which is just so laughable to me now because, you guys, LABOR COMPLETELY UNDOES YOU), and made my way downstairs.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Luckily, he </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> able to come home for a long lunch break and found me huffing and puffing around the guest room, making the most of my two-and-a-half-minute breaks in between contractions as I attempted to organize our home birth supplies and prep the space for Lucy's arrival. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Together we put the plastic mattress protector on the bed and rearranged some of the furniture to make room for the birthing tub (which we still did not have in our possession). </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">5:00am</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As he left the house to return to work, he encouraged me to text Mirra (our </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://www.portlandnaturalbirth.com/">midwife</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) an update. I hadn’t yet said anything to her because I was terrified of crying wolf, but finally agreed to send her a screenshot of my contraction timer. It showed my contractions had been less than three minutes apart for over an hour. Ummm, surprise?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I noted that I was still cracking jokes and knew we had some time, so I tried to recall all the things we'd learned in our <a href="http://www.lovelightchildbirth.com/">childbirth education class</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I put on an episode of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt5357406/">Modern Family</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for distraction, and attempted to bounce on a yoga ball to give my legs a rest from my compulsive need to stand for every.single.contraction. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">6:30am</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just as I was starting to feel sorry for myself for being all alone during labor, my husband burst through the front door at full speed and gasped, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"We're having a baby!" </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Apparently he was able to finagle his way out of work early (I'm pretty sure he didn't realize how serious I was about being in labor until he saw me on his lunch break, rocking back and forth and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fW2Zk_Iw720">horse-lip breathing</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> like it was my job). I was equal parts thrilled that he was home, and worried that he was yawning. I promptly sent him to bed.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is the part of my labor story that is the most hazy. The Unisom (plus the fact I had only a few hours sleep) was still working hard to make me nice and drowsy, but my body was still working even harder to move Lucy into position, and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> still felt compelled to take a vertical stance for each contraction (which were </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>still</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> coming faster and faster together). </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That's a whole lotta "still" - which is just kinda labor in general. Things don't go away only to be replaced by new things. Instead, everything just builds on top of itself until - one intensely beautiful way or another - your offspring ejects.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I abandoned the yoga ball and began to pace. I remember "waking up" at one point to a strong contraction, only to discover I was actually </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">standing</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> with one arm leaning against our kitchen island and had no recollection of how long I had been there.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">8:00am</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After another unsuccessful attempt at a bath, I felt pretty exhausted, but laying down was the absolute </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>last</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> position my body wanted to be in. Trying to be creative, I knelt in front of the couch and collapsed my body against it for respite. Lucy </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">finally</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> got the hint and my contractions slowed back down to 8-10mins apart. I did my best to rest, knowing more hard work was coming. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">10:00am</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the time Mirra arrived to deliver the birth tub, my contractions had picked back up, and I resumed my pacing around the house in my bathrobe, alternately wrapping it around me for warmth and throwing it open because I felt like my skin was on fire (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>hello heat-fluctuating hormones</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">). She watched me endure a few contractions and confirmed it was the “real deal,” but then reminded me that my ability to still talk and laugh through them likely meant I had some work to do. She dropped some birth supplies in the guest room and said she would be back in a few hours, “unless something changes.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She must've seen my hesitation as she moved towards the door because she gently suggested I wake Justin, noting, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"it seems like you don't really want to be alone right now."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I quickly thought through any other options, not wanting to disturb my husband after just 4 hours of sleep, but Lucy chose an extraordinarily inconvenient day to make her Grand Entrance as everyone I had </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">intended</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to be present for her birth was otherwise occupied. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">10:30 am </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I struggled up the stairs to wake Justin.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-32036313084761009982017-09-17T00:36:00.000-07:002017-09-17T15:15:00.261-07:00The Birth of Lucy, Part 1: (very) Early Labor<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">I told everyone she was coming early, but no one believed me. Considering we still had several weeks until her due date - coupled with the common belief that first babies typically come late - I'm sure they were all just trying to mitigate my discomfort by encouraging a different mindset.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But I knew. You could say I had a bit of </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2017/09/signs-of-early-labor.html">insider knowledge</a></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on the situation.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I woke Saturday morning to a few strong contractions, but tried to ignore them since I didn't want to miss out on my sister's Bridal Shower that afternoon. I checked in with my </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://www.portlandnaturalbirth.com/">midwife</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and she encouraged me to trust that my body would tell me when/if it was time to turn around, so I haphazardly spread a chux pad and beach towel across the driver’s seat of my car and kissed my sleeping husband goodbye, whispering, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“I love you! I hope I don’t have our baby while I’m gone!”</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I laughed as I recalled my aunt’s very specific instructions </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><u>not</u></b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to go into labor on this day. What are the odds?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I carpooled to the shower, but insisted on driving the 3.5 hours north. Along the way I silently noted each contraction, but didn’t really draw much attention to them since they weren't very patterned. I rather successfully managed to mask my discomfort right up until the very end of our trip, when we reached a large hill just a few minutes from the venue. Something about the action of pressing my foot to the gas pedal made my next contraction almost unbearable. My mom noticed and offered to drive the rest of the way, but - not wanting to be dramatic -</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I waved her off. That is, until we rounded the corner and I saw yet another hill. I felt my belly tightening and rapidly flipped on my blinker and turned down a side street, unbuckling my seatbelt and hopping out of the car. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This would be a precursor to my preferred position for all contractions during labor: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">standing</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I leaned over the side of the vehicle, shifting my weight back and forth between my feet and breathing deeply until the pain subsided. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mom drove us the final 45 seconds to Bridal Shower (we were </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">embarrassingly</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> close!), and while our original plan was to just drop the gifts and leave, I noticed my contractions slowing in both interval and intensity as I waddled into the room. We decided to stay awhile longer and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I truly believe the few hours we spent there - laughing and praying and celebrating - helped fuel my </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">oxytocin</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> tank for labor.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8xqHCfYB7O2dyd6ZoCqDeA6d4daOulHN3n8Y8GRumUOrFc9EIEeC5JecMruoUoI9axth2KP3al1PQ-qpT_Pn22XCsBKb3bZhq5q7JpjlMqwdljRiCnN-HSWr0577yxfWuzKspl9-a4-6/s1600/IMG_4135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8xqHCfYB7O2dyd6ZoCqDeA6d4daOulHN3n8Y8GRumUOrFc9EIEeC5JecMruoUoI9axth2KP3al1PQ-qpT_Pn22XCsBKb3bZhq5q7JpjlMqwdljRiCnN-HSWr0577yxfWuzKspl9-a4-6/s640/IMG_4135.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plus, how cute is my sister? I'm so happy I didn't have to miss this!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />My contractions resumed in the car on the way home, but my stubborn need to control the situation had me back in the driver's seat. My mom tried to distract me from the traffic and my discomfort by making casual conversation.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "So, what are you going to do tomorrow?" </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">she asked. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I gave her the side eye and said, with complete confidence, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "I'm going to have a baby!"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the time we arrived back at my house, I could barely sit through the surges anymore. Mirra (my midwife) texted for an update and she asked me to describe my contractions:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SgmiHwb0Ysrs6DTWuv3Q0RNFo6RL5S3dYObWDBiaGF2t3jFR47u8Lnu575wWJtf0G5OG34SgDUIaPGnd0TSFqlxutzUs9UvFGLQuQ7eCuw_niJ5Aq-HO00EuQeUUpOY3nVNQ1GF_2f9Q/s1600/IMG_5483.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SgmiHwb0Ysrs6DTWuv3Q0RNFo6RL5S3dYObWDBiaGF2t3jFR47u8Lnu575wWJtf0G5OG34SgDUIaPGnd0TSFqlxutzUs9UvFGLQuQ7eCuw_niJ5Aq-HO00EuQeUUpOY3nVNQ1GF_2f9Q/s640/IMG_5483.PNG" width="356" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our routine was to take my weekly bump photos on Sundays, but I had the sense I likely wouldn't want to pose for any photographs the next day and requested Justin take my picture a night early. I’m so glad I did because he just so happened to capture me mid-contraction and I love that you can see the look of relief and joyful expectancy on my face once it's over!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5wNhxPA9UbS8fm5tuD8i3u2YWJ3HZuzgRp79EVK7Nyg00YWCEPS_6yrlehIbokTu0zsuf_nMyXcp7VEK0IMebpPMgbZoO5GkgXAY01a3WRA09sc5pbqW3z6P4vsxVZJCNDqtMYJHTerM/s1600/IMG_4137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5wNhxPA9UbS8fm5tuD8i3u2YWJ3HZuzgRp79EVK7Nyg00YWCEPS_6yrlehIbokTu0zsuf_nMyXcp7VEK0IMebpPMgbZoO5GkgXAY01a3WRA09sc5pbqW3z6P4vsxVZJCNDqtMYJHTerM/s640/IMG_4137.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I (somewhat frantically) urged him to install the car seat and assemble the co-sleeper, and then at Mirra’s suggestion, we retreated to the basement where I moved through some prenatal yoga and Justin played the guitar and sang worship. I remember pausing mid-pose, resting my hand on my tightened belly, and thinking to myself, </span><b><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"This moment is going to be a part of Lucy's birth story."</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For what felt like the first time in my entire pregnancy, I was completely at peace.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And yet, despite knowing Lucy's birth story had begun, I naively sent Justin to work that night. I guess I just assumed we still had tons of time...</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-9576300267641143312017-09-17T00:30:00.006-07:002020-07-11T10:15:45.375-07:00The Birth of Lucy (Prequel) : Signs of Early Labor<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A recent prenatal appointment confirmed Lucy had indeed dropped (something I was suspicious of since quite suddenly I had an increase in appetite, the ability to breathe more easily, a more pronounced “waddle,” and the urgent need to urinate...like...every 5 seconds).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I also had many of the other signs of early labor, from increased pelvic pressure, to mild cramping, to frequent loose stool. Additionally, and on more than one occasion, random strangers took it upon themselves to inform me I was going to have my baby that weekend due to the “blood moon”?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But my </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">favorite</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> early labor symptom, and perhaps most annoying to my husband, was </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.babycenter.com/0_nesting-instinct-during-pregnancy_10414285.bc">nesting</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. On Wednesday (four days before she arrived) I had an absolutely </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">insatiable</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> urge to assemble the bookshelf for her nursery. That morning, I heaved an IKEA box into the trunk of my car, drove back to the store, wrestled it into a cart, and returned it - because after hours of obsessing over my choices “it just wasn’t right.” Then I came back home and began assembly on the (extraordinarily similar) Target shelf I had purchased the night prior.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I successfully (albeit awkwardly) squatted and screwed and glued and puzzled until it was nearly complete, when suddenly the particle board cracked. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You would think that might be enough to cause me to stop. But I COULD NOT BE STOPPED.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, hugely pregnant and sweating, I man-handled the 80% assembled shelf down the stairs and into the back of Justin’s CRV (it was now too large for my own vehicle).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As my belly jostled over the speed bumps in the Target parking lot, I remember thinking,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> "Natalie, you are not in your right mind. You should turn around and wait just a few more hours for Justin to wake up. He can take care of this for you."</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But, like I said, I couldn't be stopped. After so many months of dependence on others to do things for me, I was determined to finish this project for myself. Plus, what if Justin decided it could wait his next off-stretch? WE DIDN’T HAVE THAT KIND OF TIME!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Also, you might think the cracked particle board would have convinced me this thing was, indeed, a piece of junk. But reason was a lost cause at this point. I simply exchanged one project fail for another unassembled box and returned home.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Justin greeted me as I pulled into the garage, I was sheepish...but still determined. The bookshelf must be completed!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thankfully, he had listened during our </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://www.lovelightchildbirth.com/services.html">childbirth education</a> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">class and knew his role as my birth partner was to find creative ways to assuage my nesting urges while still encouraging my body to rest, so he vowed to assemble the shelf himself and sent me to happy hour with my mutually hugely pregnant friend Jackie.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is just one of the thousands of examples of how Justin so lovingly and sacrificially supported me during our pregnancy and labor experience. Assembling boxed furniture is maddening enough, but I had the audacity to bring in the cheapest of cheap crap into our home and he didn’t so much as argue once. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_TF6THUKzZiAIDE3H_yB5Rqha2eTOX2nyMSU8sWAPV0k1CenNAiVtTwFHihWuswx-6s06NyGBPqp2sn86Cd6xKI8rsfgMO1TXyeMVSw2taiBnIcrWwY0l6fzU7Zr9iM-VCPV-ActPaDpz/s1600/IMG_7358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_TF6THUKzZiAIDE3H_yB5Rqha2eTOX2nyMSU8sWAPV0k1CenNAiVtTwFHihWuswx-6s06NyGBPqp2sn86Cd6xKI8rsfgMO1TXyeMVSw2taiBnIcrWwY0l6fzU7Zr9iM-VCPV-ActPaDpz/s640/IMG_7358.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>Sigh, h</i></b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>e's so dreamy.</i></b></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-13057544296678746782017-09-17T00:18:00.000-07:002017-09-17T00:25:38.796-07:00Let's Catch UpAfter a nearly two year hiatus, there's really no easy way to do this, so I'll just jump right in.<br />
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I met Justin in November 2014. Four months later we were engaged...</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsyt3ousHJ0mRVQDnhwvjPmmPvp1gCi6AogtMx9YYXZXmE8Jv_rZgtwKAZrD-fRo1frqwF9Vid6-gdVK3_L5iGYCLIzF4Hdbq_vh1nqmh59jH2JJTULxNpxq5Zlkg2EI1wddLeM_pDfhZ/s1600/IMG_6540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsyt3ousHJ0mRVQDnhwvjPmmPvp1gCi6AogtMx9YYXZXmE8Jv_rZgtwKAZrD-fRo1frqwF9Vid6-gdVK3_L5iGYCLIzF4Hdbq_vh1nqmh59jH2JJTULxNpxq5Zlkg2EI1wddLeM_pDfhZ/s640/IMG_6540.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture Credit: <a href="http://www.brandonwitzel.com/">Brandon Witzel</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />Four months after that we were married...</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8er-qYRHqcr6XH6iWdolx8RkUN8gbLnRjZvFEtgyzF-Qr6LzA6dEoXtW9VsreCUCR1aLCAfL7FVjl34E4l2PiGPcnGiowinubneJG4A6xrf6OCr4MSObZpyF0DqpnYM9BOCBz6dudJady/s1600/IMG_9321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8er-qYRHqcr6XH6iWdolx8RkUN8gbLnRjZvFEtgyzF-Qr6LzA6dEoXtW9VsreCUCR1aLCAfL7FVjl34E4l2PiGPcnGiowinubneJG4A6xrf6OCr4MSObZpyF0DqpnYM9BOCBz6dudJady/s640/IMG_9321.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture credit: <a href="https://www.kaitlynnchritton.com/">Kaitlynn Chritton</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />Six months later we were pregnant.. </div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_uO4lXslyi65VKYfsTfKyX1_nNV_B3pPMtqi1r42w5K0Et665M0_qcx-rn5lAh-itCh25hNKfMopJhS5lFDs3vaMGS9oUNMXi47Syvzd8_HawCp04HBVJYveeMtmYtEuOf7fMo7piBUAg/s1600/IMG_1772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1087" data-original-width="1600" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_uO4lXslyi65VKYfsTfKyX1_nNV_B3pPMtqi1r42w5K0Et665M0_qcx-rn5lAh-itCh25hNKfMopJhS5lFDs3vaMGS9oUNMXi47Syvzd8_HawCp04HBVJYveeMtmYtEuOf7fMo7piBUAg/s640/IMG_1772.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture Credit: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/handmade/WoodntItBeNicePdx">Katie Heilsberg</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />In another 37 weeks we were parents...</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ZYbFO1AWXjOTvJzJFxfimH8zLPIQqjxvRp7I7rNGuLhP03IgHnVxuhEFlrCrziaiMkoQeBnpzer0YTHB4EesJEBfmuPeDnz4LpnaNzTFuTtlmvW6cy4VF3HgdmJBKGZx3tNTQ3STt_HX/s1600/IMG_9117copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ZYbFO1AWXjOTvJzJFxfimH8zLPIQqjxvRp7I7rNGuLhP03IgHnVxuhEFlrCrziaiMkoQeBnpzer0YTHB4EesJEBfmuPeDnz4LpnaNzTFuTtlmvW6cy4VF3HgdmJBKGZx3tNTQ3STt_HX/s640/IMG_9117copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture Credit: <a href="https://www.kaitlynnchritton.com/">Kaitlynn Chritton</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now, one year after our daughter arrived, I'm finally blogging again.</div>
<br />
Welcome back, friends.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-41044581526970121842014-12-27T00:55:00.001-08:002014-12-27T00:55:31.605-08:00Return to your rest.<div style="text-align: center;">
A lot of people give me flack for taking so many pictures all the time...but I don't mind <i>(and I won't stop).</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iHpINeDwo1B-iozFPYTz4DfILqZXHdWGx1Q4_FuQUdvGPWd7meZeLWeTmAnD970xQg_jbaPT0klHd1W5f9llay43P2mRruQEvvaTgapiCNewVooyj6ONHmNeFpHlR0LYeHooMtwrYzYL/s1600/IMG_6188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iHpINeDwo1B-iozFPYTz4DfILqZXHdWGx1Q4_FuQUdvGPWd7meZeLWeTmAnD970xQg_jbaPT0klHd1W5f9llay43P2mRruQEvvaTgapiCNewVooyj6ONHmNeFpHlR0LYeHooMtwrYzYL/s1600/IMG_6188.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You never know when it's going to be your last one.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Thanksgiving 2014)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"Return to your rest, O my soul, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you." (Psalm 116:7)</i></b></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cool Granda B, I so powerfully grieve your death, and yet I so peacefully celebrate your <i>bountiful</i> life and the beautiful rest you are entering into with Jesus.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-68170959824627938012014-11-16T22:37:00.000-08:002017-09-17T01:33:24.333-07:00You Can't Judge a Match by Your Skype Chemistry (The Scarier Side to Online Dating)<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>**warning: this post contains several references to alcohol**</i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember <b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/01/creating-my-online-dating-profile.html">this post</a></span></b> where I
mentioned all the grief my friends gave me for setting such a “narrow” radius
on my match distance?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well after a month and a half of…ahem…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">less than ideal</i> matches, I decided to widen my scope a bit and give
some of our neighbors to the north a chance.*<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sirracha** and I breezed through the guided communication
and exchanged phone numbers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An
hour-long phone call, followed by several long Skype conversations later, I admit:
I was pretty sold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was charming,
eloquent, and seemed solid in his faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He made me laugh (though I often wasn’t sure if it was intentional). <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">His quirkiness intrigued me.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We talked about our online dating experiences, which is a
pretty standard ice-breaker when you’re matched with someone in this manner. As
he shared, I felt like he was telling my story (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only, you know, in reverse</i>): he was tired of meeting all these
really “nice” girls who were perfectly lovely, but with whom there just wasn’t any
<span style="background-color: white;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/02/on-chemistry.html">chemistry</a></span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">.</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Freaking chemistry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s ruining my life.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved the freedom he offered me when he shared his
perspective on chemistry. He quoted the repeated phrase in Song of Solomon, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Do not arouse or awaken love until it
arrives,” </b>which he interpreted as a reminder that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God gave us chemistry for a purpose, and we should not ignore its
absence</i>.***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he offered to make the trip down to Portland to meet me
in person, I eagerly accepted. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the
first time in a long time I felt a connection, and I was excited to see where
it would go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My gosh, ya’ll, he was even more handsome in person than he
had been through my computer screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
we sat across from one another sipping our beers, I remember thinking:
“Finally, God, You sent me a good one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We left the first location, walked a few blocks up the
street, and ducked into the next place where we enjoyed a second Portland brew
out on the patio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The conversation was
light and natural, and I felt at ease in his company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sirracha consumed yet another beer before I
decided it was time to move again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We closed out our tab and kept walking several more blocks,
until he noticed another bar and suggested we go in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To his credit, he did ask if I was okay with
it, and I agreed - but made it very clear this would be my last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We again sat outside and continued our conversation, this
time speaking a bit more candidly as we tested our willingness to be vulnerable
with one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This was when I began to observe his demeanor changing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s hard to describe, really, but his eyes sort of lost
their sparkle and a sense of darkness began to wash over him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could sense he was uncomfortable, and I
felt it too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He mentioned he was going to go inside to see about his tab,
and then came out holding <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">another </i>beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My discomfort mounted and I requested we
please go somewhere with food after this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He agreed, and then began acting strangely.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He started making various comments on my appearance, which
became increasingly objectifying, until I asked him (kindly) if he wouldn’t
mind switching gears since I believe I have a whole lot more to offer than my
looks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I suggested he close his tab (for real this time), and
stepped inside to use the restroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
splashed cold water on my face and attempted to shake off my feelings of
uneasiness, reminding myself of the (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">poor,
as I see it now)</i> advice a friend had given me about my need to “relax more”
and “not take everything so seriously.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I returned to our table, I noticed he had his <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">sixth</b> beer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I like you,
Natalie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you like me?” </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked over and over again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was when I legitimately became frightened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not for my safety, per se.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Again, it’s difficult to describe, but even in his clearly inebriated
and darkened state, I still wasn’t worried about Sirracha physically harming
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was irritating, sure, but not
aggressive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Plus, we were in a highly public
place and I intended to keep it that way.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No, where I felt
unsafe was in my heart.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I like you,
Natalie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you like me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sighed, sent up a quick prayer, and then responded with
the kind of gentle confidence that only comes from knowing to Whom you belong.
I looked him straight in the eyes and said,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
“I did. I really did. But then you drank far too much, forgot that you were
supposed to buy me dinner, and I no longer feel safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sorry but this date is over.”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I cried myself to sleep that night, alternatively thanking
God for my safety, chastising myself for my stupidity, and grieving the
crash-and-burn of my first glimmer of hope in this online dating vortex.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know this isn’t as humorous or amusing as most of my
online dating stories, but it’s an important one nonetheless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those of you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">brave souls</i> out there fighting the good fight of online dating,
please learn from my frightening mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t confuse the
convenience of technology with true connection.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b>Skype-chemistry </b><b>≠ real life chemistry</b>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don’t rush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take your
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">be safe with your heart</b>, sweet friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">*Well, <i>most </i>of them. One guy eliminated him<i>self</i> from the running when he asked to skip directly to eHarmony mail and simply said, “Hey, your pictures are cute. I’m not interested in long distance. Any chance you’d be willing to move to Seattle?” <i>Why yes. Yes dear stranger. I absolutely <b>am</b> willing to move 173 miles north for a man I’ve never met. You won me over with your eloquence and chivalrous pursuit. </i>(again, I repeat, <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/06/here-let-me-help-you-some-more-eharmony.html">I can’t makethis stuff up</a></span>)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">**nickname prompted by his favorite condiment <i>(and provided to protect what remains of his dignity)<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">***or as I like to think of it: <i>I’m not a jerk just because I don’t want to kiss you.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--------<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u>Update on Sirracha</u>: A few weeks later, curiosity got the
best of me and I emailed to see if he was still alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His response was deeply humble and brutally
honest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He confessed his life-long
struggle with alcohol and other drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His denial system was so strong; he truly believed that because we were “only
drinking beer,” he would be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(He wasn’t.)</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lamely explained that he feared admitting
his problem to me earlier would somehow be a “betrayal of manhood” (which I
promptly identified as a lie straight from the Devil himself).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whether he meant it or not, only God knows, but he did say
this experience prompted him to realize his deep need for help, and I pray he
has since found it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for me, the irony of this situation is not lost on me: I
spent 45+ hours a week working as a professional in addictions recovery, and
yet I couldn’t even seem to identify an alcoholic when he had nearly completely
decompensated before my very eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m reminded yet again
that <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/01/my-aunt-addict.html">addiction has nodress code</a></span>.</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-44393597365888030352014-09-13T22:15:00.001-07:002014-09-13T22:16:21.814-07:00HAPPY BIRTHDAY COOL GRANDMA B!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9VPABCaPOykq2fOPkqbtVhS9AtcIpYlB0GaTZHLBzNyNKLv_pyJwNMuebd59bEjGSDKedIcCjuxr7TLiSmMgpwuRtoTUpR6x-TE9-uoi2kFvBlCyzIyRZJcTer7VxIrCAXUhdBeUDl1y/s1600/photo.PNG-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9VPABCaPOykq2fOPkqbtVhS9AtcIpYlB0GaTZHLBzNyNKLv_pyJwNMuebd59bEjGSDKedIcCjuxr7TLiSmMgpwuRtoTUpR6x-TE9-uoi2kFvBlCyzIyRZJcTer7VxIrCAXUhdBeUDl1y/s1600/photo.PNG-4.jpeg" height="395" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Happy Birthday to the most joyful human on the face of this planet.</b></div>
<br />
Grandma, your positivity is nothing short of inspirational. I'm sure you have complaints, but I <i>never</i> hear you voice them. You take <b>delight</b> in some of life's simplest, most natural pleasures. The world holds so much more <b>whimsy </b>and <b>wonder</b> when I see it through your eyes. For you, the trees outside your picture window aren't just landscaping, but rather your own personal "ballet troupe," swaying in a graceful performance that lasts throughout the seasons. Even the sights I've never personally seen hold a special degree of sacredness when I hear you describe them - east coast fall leaves so vibrant you have to close your eyes to take them all in, a man so desperately in love with you (Grandpa) he raced all throughout the streets after the Homecoming Game to find you, my father's childhood antics.<br />
<br />
<b>Your laughter is infectious. </b>Genuine, pure, and unhindered. <br />
<br />
Your love for your family is precious. <b>You are a proud mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. </b> You know and care about the details of our lives. You take the time to track down our most current addresses (no small feat when we move as often as I do), read our blogs, and listen to our hearts. Your very presence is one of <b>welcoming adoration</b> for all who enter your home, no matter how noisy, squirmy, (perpetually) late, or unannounced. <i>How do you even do that?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I am sincerely in awe of you, Cool Grandma B., and pray that at least some of your awesomeness is genetic so I have a shot at being even half as cool as you are.<br />
<br />
I love you!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-69408687711683172022014-08-15T11:34:00.000-07:002014-08-15T11:34:23.781-07:00This was the last picture we took together...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ytnuIj0Z_K64R25hnD1ZjJwUQHmLZnxUC7lvdGKAaJUYaAqYLXvN34HZUdi2FcPVR3ahc8IbezP4gE4QX95jfsyvJaidbApcKM_P0uzrWUvx1Sun_63pXmFVpCh4dsGxwcOLq6IZmBiS/s1600/IMG_2314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ytnuIj0Z_K64R25hnD1ZjJwUQHmLZnxUC7lvdGKAaJUYaAqYLXvN34HZUdi2FcPVR3ahc8IbezP4gE4QX95jfsyvJaidbApcKM_P0uzrWUvx1Sun_63pXmFVpCh4dsGxwcOLq6IZmBiS/s640/IMG_2314.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...but this (^) wasn't the Grandpa I know.</div>
<br />
The Grandpa I knew was alert, quick-witted, and full of smiles. He was mischievous, relentless, and unwilling to accept limitations (even those set by medical professionals or societal expectations of what a man of his age "should" and "should not" be doing). <b>He was full of life, talent, patience, and love.</b><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I remember the little things.</i><br />
<br />
The way he smelled and combed his hair. <br />
<br />
His wonky fingernail - the result of some accidental injury, and further evidence that this grandfather of mine refused to be deterred from the hard work he loved and excelled in.<br />
<br />
The spectrum of eye glasses frames he donned throughout the years.<br />
<br />
His child-like grin, and how his top lip curled under to reveal his teeth. Even with the addition of wrinkles and age spots, each time that man smiled, the inner-boy in him came through.<br />
<br />
<i>I remember the big things, too</i>.<br />
<br />
His gentleness.<br />
<br />
His fierce dedication to his family.<br />
<br />
The way he loved his daughters so unconditionally.<br />
<br />
His tenderness towards his wife.<br />
<br />
<i>And I celebrate the fact that my Grandpa is no longer confined to the body in this photo, but now has the freedom to eternally live the life he was destined to from the beginning - the one we caught sweet glimpses of here on earth, and the one <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Corinthians%205&version=NLT">we look forward to joining him in when we get to Heaven.</a></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-91609249856455910802014-07-17T23:18:00.000-07:002017-09-17T01:33:24.338-07:00The One in Which I Fail At Online Dating (Part 2)For those of you who have been anxiously awaiting an update: <a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-one-in-which-i-fail-at-online-dating.html">Perfume Guy</a> and I connected in time for our date. It was an excellent first-time-meeting-someone-from-online-dating-in-person experience. <b>He did everything right.</b><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Unfortunately, the one thing he <i>couldn't</i> do was create <a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/02/on-chemistry.html">chemistry</a> where it didn't exist. Which was baffling to me because it was <i>off the charts </i>in writing.*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Still, I made one of those weird, arbitrary commitments to myself that I would go on a minimum of three dates with any one guy before making a definitive decision about him.** This is exactly one more date than my father would prefer, as he not-so-subtly hinted by gifting me <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Date-Soul-Mate-Someone-Pursuing/dp/078528303X"><b>this book</b></a> for Christmas a few years ago in a (futile) attempt to break my cycle of serial monogamy.*** But, three seemed like a good number to me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, I said it was arbitrary, but here's my rationale (because I feel like I owe it to you?). Generally,<i> the first date is a crapshoot:</i> it could be steeped in newness and excitement, which blinds you to logic or insight; <i>or</i> it could be coated in nerves and inhibitions, which create the most deliciously awkward blog material, but don't offer much hope for romance. <i>The second date is filled with expectations - </i>generally based on whatever happened during the first date. So <i>the third date offers you best-two-out-of-three</i> <i>odds of getting it right</i>. (whatever <i>that </i>means?)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Annnnnyyywaaays, we went on a second date. And then a third. Each date was beautifully planned (and paid for) by the perfect gentleman he is. However, when he walked me to my door at the end of our third date, I knew he was more into me than I was him and…well, <i><b>I panicked.</b></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I panicked because I really <i>wanted </i>to like him. I panicked because it felt so sudden. And I panicked because I didn't know how to tell him that I was also talking with "Pleather,"*** and was starting to feel excited about the possibilities there, even though - since we met on a dating site - it should somewhat be implied that we are talking to other people?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Almost as if on cue: 1) "Pleather" Facebook friend-requested me, 2) my panic imploded, and 3)…<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I overcorrected</b>. </span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As in, not only did I deny his request, but I also wrote him a <i>freaking novel</i> outlining the heartbreak which led me to try online dating in the first place, followed by a list of all the other arbitrary commitments***** I made to myself when I started this experiment a month and a half ago (and all the subsequent fears and insecurities I've discovered in the process), and finishing it off with a pathetic <i>"But if you're cool with it, we could keep trying?"</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Smooth.</span></b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
This whole thing reminded me of when I dated a guy (several months before all of this online dating craziness) and he ended our first two dates by telling me why he didn't think we should go on another. He was pretty crushed in his last relationship and admitted he wasn't quite over it yet. While I appreciated the honesty, I remember thinking, <i>"Why is he telling me this?" </i>In fact, I was so <strike>baffled</strike> inspired by this experience, I started (but clearly never posted) a blog titled, <i><b>"You're hurt? I'm hurt too: How much is too much to disclose about your past dating scars on a first date?"</b></i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
Maybe I should have followed through with writing that post, because maybe then I would have taken my own advice...</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>In summation: I suck at this.</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*I suppose this is one of the potential downfalls of online dating?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Barring no obvious, life-threatening or moral-alterating red flags, of course</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Obviously I have yet to read it…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">****Nicknamed after his wardrobe selection for our first date<i>.</i> (His alternative nickname is "Chris Tomlin")</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*****Such as: I will stick with this for the full three months of my subscription (despite the multiple times I've begged God to let me quit)</span></div>
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<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-89366992564397257992014-07-02T20:49:00.000-07:002017-09-17T01:33:50.744-07:00On Why I'm Not, Nor Will I Ever Be, "The Giver"I'm sort of the worst at gift giving.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure I didn't even score a single point in this category of the <a href="http://www.5lovelanguages.com/profile/">5 Love Languages</a>. It's just nowhere on my radar.<br />
<br />
It literally causes me anxiety. I overanalyze every aspect about it. I pace the aisles of Target, picking up and setting down the same items over and over again, <i>willing</i> one of them to jump out and place themselves in my cart. I scour sites like Groupon or Living Social, hoping one of the deals will somehow magically be titled "great birthday gift for your male best friend who already buys himself everything he wants"or "perfect contribution to the family Christmas gift exchange" or "everyone else is buying houses but you because you can't afford one - here's something you <i>can </i>afford to congratulate them on leaving you behind in your singlehood and underpaying job."<br />
<br />
<b>I kind of wish every social event where gift giving is the norm came with registries. (Or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/registry/wishlist/ref=wish_list">Amazon.com wish lists</a>*)</b><br />
<br />
The thing is, I'm ridiculously indecisive. <i>Like, obnoxiously, debilitatingly, exasperatingly so.</i><br />
<br />
If I can't even determine if its something <i>I</i> will like, how in the heck am I supposed to know if <i>you</i> will enjoy it, too?<br />
<br />
So let me take this moment to formally apologize, either from an event in the past or in advance, for the candle from the clearance rack, the book from Amazon, or the crinkled copy of some voucher with the price hastily sharpied out that I tossed in a bag with some rumpled tissue paper** and undoubtedly gifted you for your birthday/Christmas/job promotion/etc. Know that even though it <i>appears</i> as though I threw this present together at the last minute, I likely deliberated over it for a painstakingly and absurdly long amount of time because all I wanted was to give you the most perfect, appropriately priced, unique-but-reflective-of-your-personality present ever.<br />
<br />
And instead, you get some mediocre "<i>thing</i>" and a long, heartfelt card scribbled in my messy handwriting, which you can't necessarily wear or use or display, but hopefully it does a better job of conveying the essence of what my poorly assembled gift fails to communicate.<br />
<br />
<i>For what it's worth, I tried...</i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Do you see what I did there? ;)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**I'm equally as terrible at gift wrapping. I'm a shame to my mother, I swear.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-14002350189167012072014-06-30T23:02:00.000-07:002017-09-17T01:33:24.294-07:00Here, let me help you (some more eHarmony "don'ts")*You poor, sweet single man. <br />
<br />
First of all, I applaud you for putting yourself out there. Lord knows <a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/01/creating-my-online-dating-profile.html">creating that profile</a> is no joke. It takes far more time and effort than many realize to masterfully craft a webpage which accurately highlights the charms of your looks and personality while simultaneously masking your insecurities and whatever potential downfalls may have led up to the fact that you're still single and looking for love on the internet.**<br />
<br />
I'm sure you worked super hard to make your profile internet-ready, and who knows? There might be some women out there who absolutely <i>love </i>that photoshopped image of you holding a tropical umbrella drink with multicolored butterflies framing the four corners (referenced image not included in order to protect the embarrassed).<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i284.photobucket.com/albums/ll3/anishaz_photo/00180_zpsaeb9c44d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i284.photobucket.com/albums/ll3/anishaz_photo/00180_zpsaeb9c44d.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=Xa8GLpmHA0PARM&tbnid=RVEqwJ7oZmSWHM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fstilsearching.blogspot.com%2F2013%2F01%2Fthe-couch-potato-series-2.html&ei=62OqU_-aCYfqoASZqYH4Cw&bvm=bv.69620078,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNHRGqphyR_gBW3Z44MMcGs_KhCTyQ&ust=1403761997082586">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.tumblr.com/495d44cf1a0497aae8981133e190fbb6/ofw3yz1/YcRmzet2r/tumblr_static_1acfb151dbbf40a8879477186336a264_2x.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://static.tumblr.com/495d44cf1a0497aae8981133e190fbb6/ofw3yz1/YcRmzet2r/tumblr_static_1acfb151dbbf40a8879477186336a264_2x.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=DK7wFMRQui2DxM&tbnid=MgmYF5m-WbZrFM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fhowcanalovehurtthisbad.tumblr.com%2F&ei=NWSqU-7JGoPgoATMpIDwBg&bvm=bv.69620078,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNHRGqphyR_gBW3Z44MMcGs_KhCTyQ&ust=1403761997082586">via</a></td></tr>
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But can I offer you some advice?***<br />
<br />
1. When eHarmony asks you to list "Four Things You Can't Live Without," maybe <b>don't</b> list "sex" right before you list "God." <i>(Though I'm glad you recognize your inability to survive without your Creator. Or perhaps you think because you listed Him within your top 4, I'm more likely to offer you item number 3? Not. Gonna. Happen.)</i><br />
<br />
2. Where it prompts you to list your profession, <b>don't</b> just put "good job." <i>Without specifics, I'm automatically dubious.****</i><br />
<br />
3. The part that asks about the last book you read? Yea, it's actually wanting you to list a <i>title,</i> not just vaguely describe the subject matter, so perhaps <b>don't</b> put something as generic as "some book about God."<br />
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4. I'm so glad you included pictures of you and your friends, however might I suggest you <b>don't</b> blur out their faces like an episode of Cops? <i>So many different kinds of creepy.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.imgur.com/Uzquvvg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.imgur.com/Uzquvvg.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=YxEbZONaLdi39M&tbnid=cuKSz8dCUp908M:&ved=0CAgQjRw4NA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.reddit.com%2Fr%2Fmalefashionadvice%2Fcomments%2F1bqn0x%2Fgeneral_discussion_apr_5th%2F&ei=HGqqU6_ZB4b5oAT9oIDYCA&psig=AFQjCNELoOxINArFdcUfP9gaGAfOkrTZhw&ust=1403763612249199">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
5. If your mom made your profile for you because she's <i>so</i> convinced you're the latest, greatest undiscovered dreamboat just waiting to make some girl <i>so</i> happy*****, <b>don't</b> let her reveal that fact in your profile. <i>Cut the apron strings, my friend. It's way past time.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
6. Despite the impression this blog may give you, I'm actually pretty open minded. There's a good chance if I meet you and we have at least <i>some</i> degree of <a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/02/on-chemistry.html">chemistry</a>, I <i>might</i> be able to overlook your weird obsession with live action role play or trading card games. But I'll be honest: it will improve your odds <i>significantly </i>if you <b>don't </b>list "Pokemon" as one of your greatest passions...<br />
<br />
7. On a more serious note: after I've taken the time to explicitly discuss my boundaries and desire to move slow, for the love of God <b>don't</b> attempt to kiss me. I might just have a panic attack about how violated I feel and throw up after.******<br />
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8. Absolutely<b> do not</b> make your main profile picture (and only photo) a meme of a half-loaded afro.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.imgur.com/G5j7wS2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.imgur.com/G5j7wS2.jpg" height="311" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=BWGBLjD8BaOwEM&tbnid=KBXi_LT8OlBFRM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fgeekgags.com%2F2013%2F11%2Floading-afro-50-percent%2F&ei=NcGvU7L-I5XdoASI64CQAQ&bvm=bv.69837884,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNFHpZ8Ak0nJXslZiaaawgsjjCSF0Q&ust=1404113586189762">via</a></td></tr>
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9. And finally, <b>don't</b> post pictures of yourself riding mythical creatures if you're unwilling to give any sort of explanation. <i>You know who you are.</i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*This post is based entirely off of my own true experiences (you guys, I can't make this stuff up)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Yeah, I went there. But only as a fellow compatriot in this bizarre <strike>battle</strike> dating scene.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***This is, of course, a rhetorical question. As the title of this blog indicates, I fully intend to publicly shame you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****Although let's be honest here, 99.9% of all men on eHarmony are engineers anyways, so I don't blame you for wanting to stand out somehow. And at least you listing "good job" is better than the guy who actually specified his career as "sausage maker." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*****Spoken in my best "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEly6CMB5ps">Bobby's World</a>" mid-western accent</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">******True story.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-9624890978163855662014-06-26T17:55:00.000-07:002017-09-17T01:19:42.375-07:00Pig Pods and Prodigals<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Can we talk for a minute about the infamous parable of the <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+15:11-32">Prodigal Son</a>?<br />
<br />
Often used as a story to teach about infinite grace and the beautiful celebration of repented sin and lives returned to God (and notable that Jesus preached this message to an audience of sinners, all the while aware of the Pharisees who were around the perimeter judging the crowd with whom He chose to spend His time with), God revealed something <i>totally new</i> to me this last time I read it.<u></u><u></u></div>
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The younger son, after literally giving <i>everything</i> he had to the world - expecting it would fill him in return - found himself empty. He was left with nothing. He was alone. And he was starving. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt;">
And rather than return directly to his father to ask for help, he turned to the <i>world</i> once more*, requesting employment from a farmer who sent him out to feed the pigs. </div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Here we read that the younger son hit such a low point, he actually </span><b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>longed to fill his stomach with the pods the pigs were eating</i>.</span></b><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><u></u><u></u></span></div>
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(^)</div>
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THIS. This is what stood out to me.<u></u><u></u><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ferrelljenkins.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/carob-husks_hazor_fj090511_0638t.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://ferrelljenkins.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/carob-husks_hazor_fj090511_0638t.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=gC2KM5idDOqfaM&tbnid=FhFKXcxfmPwJ7M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fferrelljenkins.wordpress.com%2F2012%2F04%2F15%2Fthe-pods-that-the-pigs-were-eating%2F&ei=KcCsU6yxNo38oATAwYCACQ&bvm=bv.69837884,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNFcnlWwnTU7TO530oVOb1pke6a5_A&ust=1403916708732133">via</a></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">How many times have I "longed" for pig pods, when God has <i>entire feast </i>waiting for me as soon as I return to Him?</span></b></div>
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*when will <strike>he</strike> we learn?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-60789598341995406372014-06-23T21:00:00.000-07:002017-09-17T01:33:24.325-07:00eHarmony update: I'm probably not going to click on your profile if...<b>1. Your main photo is a selfie. </b> Seatbelt, shirtless, or otherwise, the fact that you don't have at least <i>one</i> nice photo taken of you by someone else is concerning.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/-zWMpOIa0MM/maxresdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/-zWMpOIa0MM/maxresdefault.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=4-nNN93xNeXHyM&tbnid=XLxKaqUr42pRlM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D-zWMpOIa0MM&ei=M7GnU-_3OI3goASwpYDACw&bvm=bv.69411363,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNEJGSwiSKBDYUFPsusF5wAT6T9zvw&ust=1403585202030137">via</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>2. Your main photo isn't even a picture of you.</b> Don't get me wrong, that landscape or car or kayak or whatever is amazing…but what are you trying to hide?<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://moyuc.com/images/2013/11/beautiful-landscapes-1920x1080-beautiful-landscape-p-px-159521-59101-kb-moyuc.com.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://moyuc.com/images/2013/11/beautiful-landscapes-1920x1080-beautiful-landscape-p-px-159521-59101-kb-moyuc.com.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=0fsG3A5ym7lD7M&tbnid=l1lulb-Jrm7pKM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fmoyuc.com%2Fbeautiful-landscapes-1920x1080-beautiful-landscape-p-px-159521-59101-kb%2Fimages%2Fhigh-resolution-60581%2F&ei=b7GnU_nwAonaoASAkoIg&bvm=bv.69411363,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNGyDqzA9tQAtYogKm-_mW8-qqi8sQ&ust=1403585251696494">via</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>3. Your main photo is a picture of you with another woman.</b> <i>It's your sister you say? </i>Great. <i>Save that photo for later on in your profile. (</i>And do yourself a favor and add a caption explaining who she is so I'm not left questioning whether or not you are a lying, cheating jerk who just happens to be stupid enough to post evidence of his infidelity on his online dating profile. <i>This isn't rocket science here folks.)</i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/62/cb/bb/62cbbbcb735262a39079f3b431779226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/62/cb/bb/62cbbbcb735262a39079f3b431779226.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=evYMV25t63XyuM&tbnid=neI_YEgNmORzaM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fadavis37%2Fextremely-good-looking%2F&ei=7bGnU5LzN8v9oATUo4DgAw&bvm=bv.69411363,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNHu0mHjGhA0RGK3Xr11p6AscnDl7w&ust=1403585378667770">via</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>
4. Your main photo is one of you crouching in the bushes.</b> I'm not even kidding, I have received <a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2014/05/it-finally-happened.html">more than one match</a> with this exact same pose. <i>What is even happening?</i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.redphotoco.com/forum/hogue18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.redphotoco.com/forum/hogue18.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=hv49TDxquiQ8_M&tbnid=vfbTZyu37SWpAM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.redphotoco.com%2Fblog%2F%3Fp%3D263&ei=bbKnU43EMJTaoAT3lIIw&bvm=bv.69411363,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNHs_444Cp1kX7cGcLZMcYgMjwb9sQ&ust=1403585514292472">via</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>5. Your main photo is one of you and your dog. </b>Actually, this one normally wouldn't deter me at all, but it is apparently a deal breaker for my dad. And considering that lone statement is essentially the only opinion he has ever publicly shared in reference to my romantic choices, and in light of the fact that he is currently the man I love the very most, I'm going to listen to his advice on this one.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.kesq.com/image/view/-/10299362/medRes/2/-/maxh/360/maxw/640/-/e4eiffz/-/shirtless-man-with-his-dog-jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.kesq.com/image/view/-/10299362/medRes/2/-/maxh/360/maxw/640/-/e4eiffz/-/shirtless-man-with-his-dog-jpg.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=D6AzwhX65mDO-M&tbnid=QVOTtsUPKAs-4M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.kesq.com%2Fentertainment%2Fpets%2FWhat-a-man-s-dog-says-about-him%2F10299138&ei=txKpU5WOHszYoASqjICgAw&bvm=bv.69620078,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNF0mkxPDR1TO4iQVh8jBbH8rtJvKA&ust=1403675680656493">via</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Also, to the guy with the shirtless bathroom selfie? I highly doubt one of the four words your friends would choose to describe you is "modest."<br />
<br />
Lord have mercy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-41498770722373172232014-06-22T21:19:00.000-07:002014-06-22T21:21:05.622-07:00Open His Eyes<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Awhile back, I came across the most incredible story in the Old Testament.* It occurs in <b><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+Kings+6%3A8-23&version=NIV">2 Kings Chapter 6</a>,</b> and tells of Elisha’s unshakeable faith in God’s provision.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Beginning in
verse 8, we read that the king of Aram is at war with Israel, and growing
increasingly frustrated as his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">repeated</i>
attempts to ambush his enemy are thwarted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Suspecting treason, he accuses his officers of leaking information to
the king of Israel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the king of
Aram learns he is not the victim of betrayal, but rather Divine intervention in
the form of the Prophet Elisha’s warnings to the king of Israel, he does not
bow out in holy reverence to Yahweh.** Instead, he throws an Old Testament
temper tantrum and hatches a plan to capture this whistle-blowing culprit by
sending an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">entire army</i> in the dead of
night to surround the city where Elisha is reported to be living.***<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next
morning, one of Elisha’s servants wakes up nice and early and heads outside to
brush his teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he rubs the
sleep from his eyes, stretches his arms over his head, and looks around to
greet this new God-given day, he is (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">unpleasantly</i>)
surprised to discover his normal view of fig trees and desert sand has been
crowded out by horses, chariots, and angry enemy forces.****<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In my mind,
I picture a cartoon-like delayed reaction of terror, followed by a manic
movement into action, as this servant hightails it back inside to tell the
prophet what he saw.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Elisha’s response is my favorite</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rather than allowing himself to be swept up
in the tsunami of terror that just washed his servant inside, Elisha remains
Zen-like:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Don’t be afraid,” the
prophet answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” </span></i></b>(v.
16)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then
Elisha prays the greatest prayer ever: </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">“O LORD, open his eyes so he may see.”</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Then the LORD opened the servant’s eyes,
and he looked and saw the<b> <span style="font-size: large;">hills full of horses and chariots of fire</span></b> all around
Elisha.” </i>(v. 17)<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Whereas
previously the servant’s eyes had focused only on the massive <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">earthly</i> forces poised to attack and
potentially destroy them, once Yahweh opened his eyes he was able to finally
see the far greater magnitude of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">heavenly</i>
forces encircling and protecting God’s chosen people.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The story
goes on to describe a miraculous (and surprisingly non-violent) turn of events,
which is certainly worth reading; however <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
</i>want to focus on Elisha’s brilliantly simple prayer in response to his
servant’s limited perspective.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I love that Elisha doesn't launch into some lengthy sermon, lecturing his servant on Yahweh's faithfulness and belittling him for his doubt. I love that Elisha's <i>own</i> faith in Yahweh's deliverance is so strong, he doesn't even need to verify for himself that the chariots of fire exist - <i>he knows implicitly they are there, and they are stronger than anything the enemy has prepared for them. </i>I love that Elisha knows the value in someone experiencing Yahweh for themselves (vs. through the inspiration of another), and so he prays the most simple, beautiful, articulate prayer ever: <b><span style="font-size: large;">open his eyes.</span></b></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Which enemy forces have you surrounded and paralyzed with fear today?</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Finances? Heartbreak? Betrayal? Illness? Death? Addiction? Abandonment? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/p/contact_9462.html">Join me</a> in praying that God would open our eyes to the insurmountable strength available to us through His all-consuming love.</b> He overcame the world, and He did it for you (and for me). The same chariots of fire that aided Elisha in overtaking his enemy are available to us today when we have eyes to witness the miracle of <i>redemptive intervention</i> occurring in and throughout our lives.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20John%204:4&version=NIV"><b>He who is within us is far greater than anything in the world.</b></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*I think
this is one of my favorite things about the Bible: the way it brings ancient
texts to life in my heart <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**This makes
sense, of course, as the king of Aram did not worship Yahweh nor recognize Him
as God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Over-compensating,
much?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****let’s
be real, here, folks. I have no clue what a “normal” Old Testament morning view
would consist of, nor do I know what exactly the servant was doing outside when he noticed they'd been surrounded.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-46611593262795766212014-06-15T23:21:00.001-07:002017-09-16T20:21:52.293-07:00A Father to the FatherlessI've been so blessed with an <a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/2007/10/joy-in-ordinary.html">incredible earthly father</a> who loves me in such an intentional, Christ-like manner. I've also been blessed by a step-father who embraced me as his own from the start. And then there is my wonderful pseudo-dad <i>(I'm talking to you, Tim)</i>, who welcomed me into his family during a season when mine was…err…morphing.*<br />
<br />
All of these men deserve to be celebrated today and I intended to post a blog doing just that.<br />
<br />
But then my heart turned a corner and I was prompted to open an old file in my computer and look up this photo:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidIKHv2vcAno53UA7LwqooAUlddBsOJBeedMwH6xdCG_FUig9M5VOh56c5UIaLRnOgk5Fg2IK1Fsaa8iTYkY_gewvzERvDmqe8asr0aS5NHteVnCyLCaWSU0T1TINencx_NsDqOSz9GF99/s1600/IMG_1555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidIKHv2vcAno53UA7LwqooAUlddBsOJBeedMwH6xdCG_FUig9M5VOh56c5UIaLRnOgk5Fg2IK1Fsaa8iTYkY_gewvzERvDmqe8asr0aS5NHteVnCyLCaWSU0T1TINencx_NsDqOSz9GF99/s1600/IMG_1555.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
Fernando was the oldest child at Hogar de Esperanza during the brief time I served as a volunteer. He was not without his challenges, having experienced far more trauma and abandonment in his lifetime than anyone ever should. I won't pretend this young man was a model child (any fellow volunteers who read this are likely laughing right now), but I <i>do </i>want to take a moment and honor him - and all the thousands of others like him - who fill their own heart-voids and those of others by growing up too fast and taking on a role that never should have been left empty.<br />
<br />
To my knowledge, Fernando does not have a father. I have no clue how long he had been at the orphanage when I arrived, and even more concerning, I have no clue where he is now - two years after I left.<br />
<br />
But here's what I do know: the moment captured above (despite his obviously irritated face at having his picture taken) is one of <i>sheer tenderness.</i> Here we have one fatherless young man patiently fixing the tie for another fatherless young man, the latter of whom has severe special needs and could not complete this task on his own.<br />
<br />
<b>It's such a simple act of service, but to me it reflects a kind of love and nurturing neither child may have given or received without the other.</b><br />
<br />
I just can't imagine the heartache of being fatherless. As the beginning of this blog indicates: where others are lacking, for some reason I have been blessed in abundance. It's not fair, I'm not deserving, and I don't understand it.<br />
<br />
But still, <b>I thank God that He is the "Father to the Fatherless."</b> That <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/verse/en/Romans%208:15">He adopts us</a> - all of us - into His family when we choose Him. And I thank Him for all the kind, generous, loving men who selflessly do their part to fill in those gaps of our broken world; raising and nurturing and <i>investing in</i> children who are not their own.<br />
<br />
To <b><i>all</i></b> the "fathers" out there, whether that be through blood, marriage, friendship, or even paycheck: <b>THANK YOU for loving the children you love.</b><br />
<br />
<u>And to all those who feel fatherless today:</u> know that you are <i>deeply</i> <i>loved</i> and <b>chosen</b> by a God who longs to flood the empty spaces of your chart with His eternal, unconditional, redeeming love.<br />
<br />
Confused? <a href="http://joyintheordinary.blogspot.com/p/contact_9462.html">Let's chat about it.</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*not to mention my grandfathers, brothers in law, and the many other fantastic father-figures who have poured into my life.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5454293508917880209.post-18121785096753660982014-06-09T23:51:00.000-07:002014-06-10T11:46:02.444-07:00Sweet SorrowWhat do you call the point just beyond exhaustion? The kind of weariness that seeps into your bones, darkens and sags the skin under your eyes, and stifles your creativity (not to mention your ability to reason or logic), all the while swirling your thoughts and intercepting your sleep?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Whatever it's called, I'm there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've been there for awhile now, but each progressive night my head attempts to hit my pillow only to be met by my brain's mockery at rest, it gets a little bit heavier.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm weary.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><i>Is it just me or has this broken world felt just a little bit more broken lately?</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The past seven days have been marked by shootings, sex abuse, strokes, stage four cancer, and so many silent tears of sadness. By men, women, and children<i> (oh Lord, the children!)</i> crying out to a God they want so desperately to believe is there, but can't seem to see, hear, or touch.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>God I want to feel You. </b> </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And yet, even on these nights where my heart aches for reassurance that You haven't forgotten Your promises or Your people, I know You are still good. I know <i>Your </i>heart aches on a level I will never comprehend; a level I will never <i>have</i> to understand because of Your tremendous sacrifice.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And even more than the depths of Your empathy, <b>I believe in the power of Your redemption.</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+56%3A8&version=MSG">I know not a single tear escapes Your notice</a>.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I lay here in surrender, trusting that You are so much bigger than all of this, and that nothing - not one single thing - is beyond the miracle of Your grace.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Jesus, come quickly. We are so desperate for You.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1