Sweetness in Life, Not Death

When I was either 18 or 19 I decided I was old enough to drive down to Tennessee and be with my big brothers for Thanksgiving. It was the first BIG trip that I had ever taken by myself. I gathered my things and spent a whole week with some of the best people I know and love.

While I was there I had the chance to go to my older brothers college group at his church. I will never forget this experience. And here lately there has been something that keeps running through my head.

It was something that (are you ready for this?) my sister in law's sister in law said (My brothers wife has a younger brother, that younger brother is married, his wife said something that I won't forget). (Side note, said sister in law is awesome, said sister in law sisters in law is awesome, we've had some good times).

She was talking about Samson and something he did before he, you know, tore down pillars and met a crazy chicken who cut of his hair. One day he was walking down the road and he ate some honey he found in the skull of a dead animal. (Judges 14:9) Israelite s were forbidden from eating anything out a dead animal. As she told us about this story, she had tears in her eyes as she described how this world has tried to give us sweetness from dead things. How we will never truly know how sweet anything is from that death, and she wanted to run after sweetness that is found in life, in Christ.

For some reason, I've been thinking about this a lot lately. But in a different way. Because I've got this beautiful baby girl now, and she's so...alive. Very alive. Even at three in the morning. Sometimes very late at night. And while this time is tiring and hard and new, it's beautiful and wonderful, and yes sweet.

I am finding the sweetness of life when my husband comes home dog tired and he still plays with our baby girl. When she smiles at him and giggles at him.

I am finding sweetness in an extra hour and half of sleep when Ellie's Grandma Jaques steals in her in the morning without me even knowing.

I am finding sweetness in her smiles while she nurses at my breast, that intimate moment where she knows that she is loved and that I love her. It so sweet.

I am finding out how sweet it is to share stories with my boss at work, who loves her daughter as much as I love mine. We swap stories and talk about our lives, and I thankful for her mentor-ship.

THIS is where we are meant to find sweetness. In Life. Abundant life.

It's the Christmas season and it's so very easy to forget where life is and what it's really about. My daughter is life and I am finding sweetness not in the dead things any more. I don't find sweetness in empty relationships or money or working out or stuff. I am finding sweetness in life, in my daughters smile, and my husbands wisdom. In people who have overcome so much and who are still praising God, who still smile through heart break.

It's so easy for me to forget that there is sweetness. And it's easy to forget that it's found in Life, true Life (meaning Christ and his gifts to us) and not death. Never death.

Gifts

Every now and again, I get these thoughts. They stick with me, glued there in the back of my mind. I’m not sure what started this thought. I’m not sure where it came from. Nothing in particular happened. It just started. Now it won’t stop until I just share it.

It’s not for who you might think it’s for. In fact, the intended audience even surprises me. When this one tiny thought bubbled into my head it exploded at a group of my peers. At my community. At the Christians in this world, in this County, in this state, maybe even in my home town.

Here’s the deal: we had a baby. A beautiful, precious baby girl. We are and were young. We are and were not sure what we were doing. We were sure of one thing though, and that is what the bible has to say about children, about babies. About them being a blessing. About how Faith can be as small as a mustard seed and it can be all that you need.

Not everyone applies this to every aspect of their lives though.

Christians, when did babies and children become what the world thinks instead of what God thinks? When did we decide to pass judgment on our own people, the ones who feel called to raise and love their children? When did we decide that we needed to comment on how many kids a woman has, or how far apart her children are? Why can’t we simply love one another and stay out of their uteruses?

I don’t understand. I don’t understand being told that Eleanor was a choice. She was our choice? Really? Is that why I cried when I found out I was pregnant with her, terrified I would watch myself bled out and miscarry again? I really wanted that, right. I had to give up a lot of fear and doubt and remember that the God who parted the Red Sea was also the God who had given my husband and I this gift.

We need to change how we think Christians.

When we devalue the loss of a baby at 7 weeks, we are devaluing life. If you read the Bible, you know that life is important to God. So we get up in arms about abortion but don’t comfort the weeping mother who is struggling with each day because she miscarried? I don’t understand. We preach and tell the world that babies are not choices, and then we tell young Christian couples that it was their choice to have babies so they can deal with all that entails on their own? What?

We needed help after our daughter was born. We still do. I still go talk to my mother and other Christian women in my church, asking for their help, advice, and comfort. I still need help doing laundry some days, because I’m just so tired. I still text my sister in law about things like cradle cap, and ask my best friend who had her daughter the same day if she is experiencing the same thing.

I’m not asking people to pay our hospital bills. I’m not asking people to be up with me at four am. I am tired, but I don’t go around complaining about it, I knew I would be. Believe me, you adjust. You become less selfish. You have to. It’s not about you anymore.

I am asking that people love us. That they don’t say demeaning things. That they don’t judge the piles of laundry, or make fun of me because I didn’t do half the things I thought I’d do. I am asking that Christians stop acting like babies are only good under certain circumstances, within the walls that they place. Christ lived outside of the boxes we put Him in. If He’s bigger than all the things we say He’s bigger than, then why aren’t children included in that?

We are such a society that picks and chooses.

So. To every couple that had a honey moon baby, to every mother who just didn’t have time to shower. To all the Mommy’s who are crying right now because it’s their third, fourth, or Heaven forbid, fifth child and they don’t feel loved, to every mom who knows what it’s like to be sick and nursing an infant, to all the Dad’s who work to pay bills and feel that they aren’t home enough. To the Momma in the grocery store with the screaming two year old and the round belly of life, to all those who feel like you are devalued because how much you love you babies, or are afraid to announce your fifth precious baby, please know, from the bottom of my heart, I. Love. You.

You are enough. You are beautiful. You are hard working. You valued in the eyes of our Savior. I feel like this has been said before, there are plenty of blog posts out there that say these same things. But it needs to be said, again and again and again. Because our hearts are so full of love, because we think that no one knows how we feel. Because someone in your Church made a comment about how “it’s your fifth so you don’t need a baby shower”. Every child is a gift. Not a choice. If they were choices, there wouldn’t be any children. Because our world is a selfish one. And Christians are just swimming right along with the world…and I can’t stand it any more…

What I've Been Learning

It had been quite some time since I have taken the time to sit down and write. I've (as per usual) written several posts in the interim, with the INTENTION of typing it all out for you all. But the truth of it, I have been far to preoccupied to actually sit and write it all down.

My baby girl is already growing too fast. We have visited family, taken road trips, gone to the doctor (maybe because I'm slightly paranoid), taken about thirty billion pictures, and I have learned so much about grace and love and myself that to begin to tell you about it would take eons.

Eleanor is sleeping in her swing. She is napping, late at night, and I am letting her. Maybe I let her grandmother feed her a bottle, maybe I prayed she would sleep so that I could nap as well. Maybe there is a large pile of clothes on our bed waiting to be folded. And they might continue to wait while I write about how the motherhood thing has taken me and stretched me and made me so much better.

This week God truly worked in my heart to remind me to stop thinking so much of self and to start thinking more about the cross. About selflessness. I've read articles written by other mothers that brought me to tears, and I've sat in my car and cried out to the Lord, and I've sung "Lord I need you, Oh I need you, every hour I need you" quietly to my girl at three AM when she woke up to eat. I want Ellie to know the Lord, His Grace, but if I can't show it to her, then who will she learn it from?

I've caught myself thinking things like "I just want to read, alone, for an hour without worrying about her" or "I used to be able to go to the gym whenever I wanted" or "I used to spend hours painting". All things that I used to do, by myself. Things are not easy. I can't just go out without making sure she is taken care of or making sure that I have my pump (things can be uncomfortable pretty quickly without it...), things as easy as running into a store are difficult now. I found myself resenting it. Resenting the slow down pace I need to take now. Resenting that the room is never clean enough or the laundry never seems to actually be done.

So I had a moment. God reminded me, gently like He does, that His grace is enough. That letting laundry be put to the side to snuggle my precious girl is ok. That she is worth not having the time to read, or paint, or draw like I used. Not that I don't still get to do those things, I am and I have been doing the things I love. Maybe I can't devote hours to them, but I am still me. I am just me with this beautiful baby girl.

She is enough. I've said before that I never knew how selfish I was until I got married. Now I have to triple that since I've been blessed to be a mother. I have been called to this. My hear feels so full when I see her little face. Knowing that for her, I am her world right now. She is completely dependent on me, she loves me. And you know, things are so easy right now, I think most first time parents would tell you that this time was challenging for them as well. But Ellie has no idea.

She has no idea that laundry doesn't get done on time. She has no idea that I'm exhausted when I come home from work. She has no idea that sometimes I get crazy and annoyed with people. She has no idea that sometimes Blair and I fight. She has no idea what bills are, or what money is. She has no idea that we live with her grandparents. Do you know she knows? Love. Our voices. Our faces. She knows that in the middle of the night I pick her up to feed her. She knows that I change her diapers and wash her little body. She knows that I keep her close and snuggle her when her Aunt Abbie accidentally hits her head. She got so upset that she was hurt...and calmed as soon as she was in my arms. She knows me. She knows love.

And if that is enough for her, that's enough for me.

This motherhood thing is no joke. For anyone. Whether you stay at home, work full time or part time, it doesn't matter. It is a calling, one worthy of all my time and selflessness.

Eleanor ranks so much higher in my life than all those other things that used to be or could have been important.

Anyways, that's what I've been thinking about. Here, have some pictures. These are a few of my favorites. :)

Almost There

This summer, I've been stretched in ways I never thought possible. Being a mother is single handedly the hardest and best thing I have ever done. It has made me realize how incredible God is, and how much I need help. It also made me realize how much I need time to myself. Sometimes taking a shower is the best thing that ever happened in the whole world.

I've thought a lot about some things I really want to share with people. I think, more than anything, it comes to this: it amazing to be around people who know my heart.

For as long as I can remember this is what I've wanted. Last night, Ellie decided sleep was not what she wanted or needed, so I was rocking and singing to Itty Bitty, talking to Blair. I said "Sometimes, I don't think you understand the gift you've given me." Even at four in the morning, with only cat naps to go on, I remembered that this is what I've wanted my whole life. I've wanted to be a Mommy, I've wanted to be a Wife, I wanted the four AM feedings, the diaper changes, and that sweet smile Ellie has while she nurses so close to my heart.

A lot of the people in my life know this. I got a hug from a great friend at camp and she whispered to me "I'm glad you have your dream." (I'm glad she is getting hers as well.) I would not say I'm where I want to be in life, by no means have I "arrived". But I'm so much closer. So so so much closer.

Thank you. Thank you to the friends who stood by me when I became enamored with my first my husband, then my daughter. Thank you to the friends who know that my life is different now. Thank you to the friends who knew that I would not be as available as I used to be. Thank you to you all, because I'm still me, and I needed support.

I love Blair. I love my Ellie girl. I love this stupid little room where we live for right now. I don't always mind four am any more, and I realize that I will probably not sleep through the night for a long long long time. I am learning what is worth saying to my husband and what I need to keep to myself. I am learning how to balance time with a baby who depends solely on me for food and comfort, with a husband who is still very very very much in love with me. I am learning to still love my body, despite wider hips and a flabbier belly and less time to devote to working out. I am learning how to find God is quiet moments, how to pray instead of just thinking, how to glorify him in everything, still. I am learning.

I'm almost there. I feel almost there. This is a life I wanted so badly that I can't even imagine how it could even be better. It's hard and sloppy, I have been pooped, peed, and vomited on, and it's great. It's honestly great. Because seeing her smile makes four am less lonely and all the sudden, it's the best time in the world.

Thank you. To those who know what Ellie means to my life, who know how filled I am with joy, thank you.

Still Here!

Just wanted to post real quick, I haven't forgotten my blog. I think about it often, and think, I should write something, and then I get sucked into baby snuggling...or feeding...or playing, so writing here has taken a small back seat. I go back to work soon though, and lunch breaks are a great time to write. :)

Ellie is wonderful. I love posting pictures of her, I love her smile, and I love her goofy giggle/cough thing that she does. I love seeing her with Blair and I love the joy she brings to so many others. She's two months old today, and finally wearing something other than newborn clothes. I love her. I love her a whole bunch. It's been a wild ride these past two months, harder and more rewarding than I could ever imagine. I look forward to telling the stories of this beautiful artwork that Blair and I created together. We sure did a good job with this baby making business. :)

Labor of Love: One Week Out

I’m thinking that it will take me a very long time to type out the story of Ellie’s birth. It’s really her story.  It’s a beautiful story. I love it, I love everything about it. You know why? Because at the end of it, there is a beautiful baby girl, one who is lying next to me in a pink blanket with little whales on it.

Ellie’s birth story starts on a Tuesday, June 17, the day I was supposed to go to my last day at work before leave. Instead, that morning I called and said that there was a chance I might be in labor and that it would probably be best if I didn’t go in that day. I made the right choice. I won’t go over all the details, because I’ve already talked about all that. As embarrassing as it was to have to send my midwife and birth team home not once but twice, I think this is where I mentally, took a turn for the worse.

Thursday and Friday I did everything and anything to take my mind off of the fact that this week I’d had those contractions and that it had all happened. I was trying to remind myself that labor takes a long time that it could still be weeks before I actually had my baby, that it was all good. I went for walks, I played in the pool, ate talked laughed, hung out with friends. I tried very hard to tell myself that she was not coming this week, that it would take a long time that I needed to be patient. I prayed. I hung out. I felt huge. I felt like I was on the edge of something that I couldn’t explain.

So. Saturday. I woke up a little while after Blair left for work and sat on the edge of the bed. I got up, used the bathroom, came back, and there was this wet mark on the bed. And I thought to myself “I’m pretty sure I didn’t wet the bed…” I knew that this could be my water, but was unsure. And I didn’t want to sound the alarm again without it being the real deal (this would be a common theme throughout the day, and I believe some part of the reason we ended up transferring, but we’ll get to that). I took a walk with my mother in law, found out my best friend in Va Beach who was ALSO VERY pregnant was being induced, and walked back home. Once we got back home, I started to pray for my friend, and tried desperately to ignore the contractions.

I couldn’t ignore them anymore. My wonderful mother in law helped me upstairs, made sure I was ok, I called Blair, and my mom and asked them to come. I did NOT want to call my midwife yet though. I did not want to call the fairy godmother. I felt like people had already been here so much that I didn’t want them to come unless, you know, my body was truly in labor.

When Blair came home, and my mom got here, they made the choice to call my midwife. She was on her way. We called the fairy godmother. We walked, and stood, and rocked, and the contractions got closer and stronger and more intense. By late that evening, I really truly felt like my body was ready to push. We began trying different positions that encouraged baby to head down. We worked at this for what seemed like a long time to me. I was getting so tired. And I was so ready to meet our girl.

But. Around nine (I think? I could be wrong, time stopped working for me after a while) we took a break and did a vaginal check to see where I was. What this check told us was very revealing.

I was still only 5 centimeters. I was not dilated enough for pushing to do much. And this is where my story goes from “home to hospital.”

We were given options. Go now just to make sure baby and I were alright or go to sleep and see what happens in the morning. Everyone left the room and I looked at Blair. I still wasn’t sure what we should do. We prayed together and decided to go to bed. Ameh left, the midwives left, and my mom went to sleep out on the couch (she said couldn’t leave). Before leaving, my midwife prayed with me and gave me some Benadryl to help me sleep.

I couldn’t sleep though. Normally that stuff knocks me out (ask Teri from camp…I had some once while we were out craft shopping…it was very special) but this time, it didn’t. I was up all the time because of contractions and they hurt. I would get up with them, pee, come back, try to sleep, I would try to be quiet through them, but would always whimper and wake Blair up. He tried to help, applied counter pressure in my back, but absolutely nothing helped.

At this point, mentally, I was a little out of it. I had called people there, sent them away, labored, bore down, changed positions, all of it. But as far as I knew, I was still only at five, and no one could explain why that was. So…sad to say, I kinda freaked out. That last time, I woke Blair up and said “We need to go, we need to go now.” He called the midwife to let her know, I started to pack things, realizing I had NO idea what you needed to bring to a hospital. I went out to ask my mom, and out there with her, I cried. I didn’t understand why my contractions weren’t doing anything, I didn’t understand what was taking so long, and I was convinced something was wrong with my baby.

I threw stuff in a bag and off we went. We followed behind my mom who, according to my husband, did not go the right way and drove to slow. While in the car, I had these intense contractions…I would roll down the window and try to remember to breathe. Blair was my rock. He told me that no matter what, all that mattered was Ellie and I were ok.

Once we were at the ER, I was wheeled back to labor and delivery. They had already been informed of my situation and they gave me a gown and asked to do a cervical check. When they checked me, I was at 7 cm. Every now and again I give Blair these “What in the world faces?” and I know at that point I gave him one. I did NOT think that anything had happened, in my panicked brain, nothing would have happened. So, they admitted me.

I have to say, the people at the hospital were amazing. They listened so well to everything that I wanted. I basically had the same kind of birth I would have had at home, the only difference was that they broke my water around four am, I believe.

Labor picked up hardcore for me after that. And even allowing them to break my water was a huge leap of Faith for me. I had always intended to let things happen naturally. When they asked if they could, I looked to my husband and my mom for their strength to make a choice, and they loaned it to me. I held their hands while it happened, asking Blair with my eyes if we were doing the right thing. I know it does not seem like much, to allow someone to break your water, but for me, as I said, leap of faith. He really comforted me, told me that we had done the right thing.

We had. After that, it was like my body kick started. Even though I was so so so tired, I knew that she was coming soon, this time for real. I could feel the contractions build, could feel myself getting ready. I knew that the work was just beginning. Right before a contraction I would get really cold and pull the covers up, but then I would get hot with the contractions and throw them off! I held Blair’s hands and my mom’s, if either of them left me, I called them back. In between, I let my body go limp and I would sleep for however long I could.

I’m not sure when things changed or how they changed, but they did. And I was ready. I would wake up and bellow through contractions. I’m not sure how much time the doctor had to actually get “Set up” I know I didn’t want to wait for her though. I did what my body was telling me to do, I pushed. It was intense.

I felt her. I felt her move through my body, I felt her crown, I felt her head pass through, and I felt her slide between my legs and the next thing I know there is this tiny human right on my chest in all her grossness. It was beautiful and wonderful and everything I ever wanted.

I don’t remember a lot of things, which is why I’m glad Ameh was there taking pictures. I remember feeling like there was no way I could make this happen. I remember being at home lying in bed begging God to help me. I remember looking at Blair and seeing strength there. And I remember this incredible sense of euphoria when she was there on my chest. This beautiful beautiful baby…our gift for just a little while.

God is good. I know I said that. I know I thanked him. I know I forgot that I still had to push to get my placenta out. Blair reminded me of that a few times. I vaguely saw my mom and Ameh hugging and crying. I kept looking at my baby and then at Blair.

Three years ago…I never would have thought I would be here. I never thought that I would be married, never thought that I would have a daughter (I HAVE A FOR REAL BABY, WHAT!?), I didn’t think that I deserved it. Let me rephrase this, I don’t deserve it. I am blessed. Terribly and wondrously blessed. I am so incredibly thankful for this gift.

Eleanor was 7 pounds 2.5 ounces, 19 ½ inches, she was born at 6:28 AM on June 22, 2014. She is beautiful. She is amazing. She is already incredibly goofy and makes some of the best faces I’ve ever seen.

In the past week I have fallen so deeply in love with her, that I’ve fallen in love with God all over again and with Blair. He comes home from work and we are the first people he has to see. He’s had to work so much…but each night he comes home, no matter how tired he is, he holds his baby. He talks to her, he asks for pictures while he’s away. He is wonderful. He was so strong for me…and even though people have told me I was strong, I didn’t feel that wat though.

It took me a hot minute to be ok with the fact that we transferred. At the time I wasn’t upset about it. Most days I’m not upset about it, the hospital did a great job of making me feel like I was in charge of my daughters birth story. However…I’m sad that Doran didn’t get to greet Ellie first thing, it was stressful thinking about how we are going to pay that bill, and it wasn’t what I wanted. But what I want and what I actually get are different things, and I got my precious baby girl. Transferring, this time, was the right thing for me. Mentally, I think it helped me let a lot. I would still want a home birth; it’s a dream that I am going to fulfill one day. I know this. In reality I don’t feel that I failed or did something wrong. I did what I thought I needed to do for me and my baby.

She’s here in my lap right now. Snoozing away. Being perfect. Being wonderful. Just being.

I’m amazed at what God has done in our lives. I’m amazed at this little girl. And in the past week, I have come to know what a mother’s fierce love is. And she’s beautiful. She’s just absolutely beautiful. 

Ready...Set...AND NOPE

I’ve been contemplating the best way to start this blog post. I considered telling everyone that Blair gave birth today at three pm to a beautiful litter of puppies. Or telling everyone Ellie was here, we just decided to ship her to a different family and I was going to keep a water melon up my shirt. It’s late, I’m getting sleepy, but I’m trying to process my life as of the past two days.

Basically, here’s the skinny, I thought I was in labor. My body thought it was in labor. My body had some awesome contractions, I lost lots of mucus, and I got a great feel for what labor might feel like. But the real question is, what was really happening?

Just like my body is not so great at being pregnant, I’m not so sure it’s good at being in labor. It has no idea what’s going on, and so yesterday and today it was like, “Let’s be cray-cray.”

I feel foolish. I feel crazy, for not knowing what’s happening with my own body. I feel silly for calling my midwife here, not once, but twice, and for having my mom here and the Fairy godmother. I know that they all love me, I know that no one blames me, they are all incredibly supportive, but still. It made me feel very silly.

After trying lots of different things today and walking up a hill while having some awesome contractions and some other things, we decided to all go home. Maybe this is just my body preparing. Maybe something more will happen, maybe it won’t. Maybe my water will break, maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll have more contractions, maybe I won’t. (That never did happen, and I’m glad, even though a few times I was just praying that ANYTHING would happen.) Truth is, we don’t know, can’t predict, and aren’t trying to. I love my midwife is so supportive, I love that my mom and best friend are completely not mad, and I love love love my husband.

He’s been amazing. You all have absolutely no idea. He was fantastic during some of the really hard contractions, and knew what I was saying when I couldn’t really talk. He worked just as hard as I did and even forced me to get up and do some things that he knew would help. After we sent our team home, he kinda got a little sad. I didn’t realize how much he was looking forward to seeing our baby girl.

I might go into hiding for a while. After everyone went home, I took a nap, relaxed, chilled. Woke up. Blair didn’t quite know what to do with himself and neither did I. So we went to see a movie. We drove for a while. My body has calmed down a lot. We are content in our waiting.

Please be patient with us. And know that this embarrassed me beyond belief. My ENTIRE family thought I was in labor. And a couple of friends.

So this is just another chapter in our pregnancy story. My crazy child doesn’t know what the crap she’s doing, neither do I.

We ended the night with burgers, Blair with a root beer float, and laughing while we threw fries out the window. We’re gonna snuggle and go to bed. As I’ve said before, I promise that when there IS  legit baby and not just a watermelon seed one I’ve eaten, people will know.

All in God’s timing ok? We’re still gonna wait, so you all will have to as well. J

Love,
Maddie and Blair 

Care With A Midwife

Recently, I've received a lot of questions about what Midwife care looks like. How it works, what happens when I go, that sort of thing. So I decided to take a small visual journey and show you all how my midwife works (with her permission of course! She loves my blog...:) )

I once wrote a post about how I got to take pictures and witness a birth, and I wrote about how awesome it was. I would link you to it, but internet here is not so fun, plus there's a storm. My midwife was the midwife that attended and helped that Momma in her journey. I loved watching her work. It was exciting and I agreed and loved all the choices she made for that Momma. I knew that one day, hopefully, Lord Willing, I would have her as my midwife.

Well, the Lord was willing, even last June when we found out we were pregnant the first time. Doran saw me through one of the worst times in my life. She sent me encouragement and love, and that is something that I will forever be thankful for. When we found out we were pregnant the second time, I felt that I could confess my fears to her without being judged. When I got sick and couldn't eat, she was nothing but loving and encouraging through that as well.

Me at our 38 week appointment! 

Doran is a CPM, Certified Professional Midwife and her practice is called Blessings Gods Way. She works out of Strasburg Virginia and has an adorable yellow cottage where she serves woman. Her website is incredible and can explain a lot of the questions that anyone might have.

I love visiting her. I love seeing her smiling face, knowing she's not only excited but that she already loves my little one, me, and my husband. Her cottage is warm and inviting and it always smells good.

Every time I visit Doran, I pee in a cup. I take a test strip and test that, and we look at it. The cool thing (for me at least) is that we look at it together. Together.  I like that I got to learn what the colors were telling me. I knew what was happening and I got to take part in it. That's neat.

The next thing we do, is we talk. I sit on her glorious comfy bed provided for us Momma's, and we just chat. How have things been going? How do I feel? Have I been swelling? How much water am I drinking? Do I have any questions? What's going on this week? I ask her about birth stories I've heard, I tell her how my toes only swell rarely and how I drink tons of water. I tell her about my family all coming in for the weekend, and she reminds me that I need to take it easy and rest when I'm tired. Another neat thing about it all, is that I an bring friends and family. My mother in law, Mommy, and two of my wonderful sister in laws got to come to appointments with me. My very best friend, birth photographer, and Ellie's Godmother were at our 36 week home appointment. Special people who uplift me and love me. 

She records all of my information in charts. 

Her assistant Jodi, they found out about this post and needed to "look like they were doing something", even though they always do!

Usually after chatting for a bit and writing down any information that's needed, they take my blood pressure and check my pulse. I think maybe there was ONE time that I had a high blood pressure, and immediately Doran said "Some one's a little riled up today, everything ok?" She was checking on me. Wanted to know if there was anything going on. At that time, there was, however, this has been resolved and my blood pressure has returned to what it is normally for me.

After those things are all taken care of, we move on to checking my fundal height with our little owl friend.

Fundal height measures how big my uterus is, to make sure that little booger is growing about where she needs to be.

After that is recorded, we listen to Lil Girl! When she's real little, we listen with a Doppler, but as she's bigger now, we listen with a fetal-scope. I love this part, even though my lil girl likes to hide from Doran. It's like she gets shy around her, which is silly, because the woman will be helping Blair catch her.

This part is really neat because once we find her little heartbeat, everyone gets to listen to her, they want. Angela and Karynne, my brother's wives, both got to hear Ellie's heartbeat, even though it can be a little tricky, and Ellie's Meme, my mother in law, got to hear it as well. And of course, I get to hear her as well, which always makes me smile a little.

So that is what an appointment looks like! We spend time together and I love it. I don't feel like it's impersonal or like she doesn't know me. Doran is not only my midwife and a professional, but she's my friend. She makes me feel calm and we have a lot of the same values. She serves the same God I do. That alone makes us sisters in Christ, which means a lot to me.

I've been asked when I'm supposed to call her, as in, what do I do when I go in to labor. Basically, I keep her informed. I've tried very hard to be in tune with my body, and nothing feels like something is too small to tell her. Even the other day I was kinda sorta unsure about something but needed to tell her anyways, and she was perfectly fine with it. Fun fact: I talk with her over Facebook chat. We're facebook friends. It's real life. :)

If my water breaks or my contractions become more intense and consistent, it's time to call her. I let her know about things like my mucus discharge (it happens while you're pregnant, just saying) and how I feel. We talk about lots of things, and sometimes she has to ask me awkward questions that most other people wouldn't ask. My favorite was when my sisters in law WERE at our appointment and she needed to know if um Blair and I...well...if we had happy fun times. It was awesome! But she needed to know, so she asked. We're close like that.

I also have this awesome sheet tacked to one of our bulletin boards called "What to do if Mom needs to push and the midwife isn't there yet". It kinda makes me smile a whole lot. HOPEFULLY and I'm sure this won't happen she'll be there in plenty of time to help me bring Ellie to this world.

I'm a huge advocate for women feeling empowered and comfortable where and how they birth. One more time for those who missed that:

I'M A HUGE ADVOCATE FOR WOMEN FEELING EMPOWERED AND COMFORTABLE WHERE AND HOW THEY GIVE BIRTH. 

For us, this means that we don't want to be at a hospital. I don't want to be hooked to IV's, have nurses constantly in and out of my room, be in some other persons gown, or to be restricted in any way. I want to be free to move. I want to be in my own room, in my own house, with my own people. That is what makes me comfortable. If a woman chooses differently, if the thought of having a home birth freaks them out, you won't be comfortable during labor, and that's no good friends. However, I wish more woman were truly educated, knew their rights, and fought for them. I also wish that birth and labor were less shrouded in fear and selfishness, but that is a whole other post. 

For me to feel comfortable  to have a baby, this what we chose. Luckily, God has made a way for that to happen. We've been incredibly blessed to be able to pay our midwife and to continue in her care. For a while, I was scared that HG would send me straight to an OB and the hospital. With God's grace, a supportive husband, and an incredibly midwife, who saw me through a rough pregnancy. 

So that's midwifery care. That's how things are done. If you ever have questions, feel free to ask and I'll answer to the best of knowledge, or ask Doran the next time I see her. :) 

And Doran, feel free to comment with anything that I missed! Blair and I love you, and are thankful for your service in helping bring Miss Ellie into this world soon! And you too Jodi! 

A Little Slice of God's Art

I recently started to think about the title of my blog. GodArt. I've come a long way from where I used to be, and what I used to write about.

I am still finding all the beautiful things that are worth writing about. People who support and love my husband and I, births that I've attended, people who've encouraged me, photographs of people that mean more to me than gold. I like to find the beauty of God's art in all things, not just some of them. While sometimes, this is hard (I recall my miscarriage and the start of my HG pregnancy) many times there are beautiful things that I am involved in (recall the births I've attended, that time I married my best friend, or when I met an amazing couple that encouraged Blair and I).

Life is a beautiful thing. The more I grow in my Walk, the more I get the option to see some truly beautiful things. Hard things, sad things, but absolutely beautiful things. Which brings us to today's post.

I was recently able to go see a family that has come to mean a lot to me. It's not for the best of reasons according to the standards of this world, but to me, it was beautiful.

I met this family by accident on Doughnut Day. They had three little girls and as I talked to them more, I realized that their Momma was pregnant with their fourth baby. Later that year, after we became fast friends, she gave birth to their fourth daughter. Since then, they have had to move, we have had to move, but we've kept in contact. That person who told me that not enjoying my pregnancy did not make mean I loved my baby less? That was her. She made me two butterflies that are on my fridge and held my hand 8 days after I lost Cara, while I asked God to hold the baby that I would never get to. Her friendship and encouragement mean a lot to me.

Earlier this year, they announced that they were expecting again. I was thrilled for her. To me, babies are babies man. If you want 8, go for it. If you want 1, go for it. If you wait four years or however long to have babies, that is fine with me! Your uterus doesn't affect me, but when you tell me you are pregnant, be prepared, I will be excited for you.

Not long ago, this friend called me after work with some news. Some devastating, earth shattering, life changing news. Her baby, that we all already loved, had passed away. I cried for her and with her. I kept my phone on and told her I was there when she needed me. I prayed and questioned, because I don't understand sometimes how God allows these things to happen, however, He assures me that I don't need the answers.

That Saturday after I was told, I took a drive down to see her. We talked, laughed, played with her girls, and then I was given an incredible privilege as a photographer and as a friend to take pictures of her pregnancy.

It was a humbling thing. To realize that these pictures are some of the only memories that she will get to have of what we found out later was her Daughter, who's name is Ambrosia Amore, meaning Eternal Love. It made my heart happy to be able to be able to give her this gift, while at the same time, these photographs make me want to weep.

I will not understand God's plan all the time. I've learned this. The beauty of that though, is not that He promised that we wouldn't understand, but that He would walk through with us.

I was given permission to share this story, and to share these pictures. Please join me in continuing to pray for this little family and to rejoice in their faith, strength, and love.

36 Weeks, This is Important

At 36 weeks, my midwife came to our house for our home appointment. This just might be the most important blog post of my pregnant career, strap in folks. Things about to get real...

First of all, I wish I had time/energy/finances to make shirts for my birth team. They would be red with blue capes and would say "Birth Team Assemble!" Because one, I think that would be funny, and two, I seriously love the people who will be in the room to help me bring my daughter to this world. I won't be over that. Ever I don't think...

Second of all, 36 weeks. Which means in 4-6, there might be a new little human on this planet. Whoah. Big deal guys, this is a big deal. For the record, I say 4-6 weeks because I believe that gestation actually can go to 42 weeks, and I'm not going to induce labor, therefore, if she comes in July, she comes in July. I'll just camp out in the pool. It's nice out there...I like it.

Third of all, this is the most important blog post BECAUSE I am going to tell you all some things that I think are worth saying. For me, and for any momma approaching the end of her pregnancy.

I know people are excited, I am too. I'm nervous and excited and on edge and emotional and weird and huge and all the things. I am all the things right now, and I need support. Here is how you can support me:

• Pray for us. Pray for a healthy delivery that is in God's hands. Pray that my daughter arrives here alive and hearty, I don't care about ten fingers and toes, those are over rated, I just want her here and breathing. 
• Don't ask too much of me. I'm so tired. I'm so tired most all the time. I get home from work and most of the time I make it upstairs, sometimes, I don't though. I just pass out on the couch for a while. 
• Be patient. My emotions are volcanic, I go back and forth a lot. A lot a lot. Sometimes I'm angry about stupid things and the next day I'm not and then I cry because I was angry and then I feel bad for crying and well...you get the picture. 
• Please, for the love of all that is Holy DON'T SAY ANYTHING TO ME ABOUT THESE THINGS:

1. Have you had that baby yet? No. I have not. Trust me please when I tell you that when she comes you all will know. Like I said, I will want to tell people. 
2. She has an eviction notice! Because you can control my uterus? Because it's a room and you're the landlord? I don't understand, shut your face. 
3. You've been pregnant for a long time! Dude, I already know. I already know that I've been pregnant, I know how many DAYS I've been pregnant, I know how many weeks and months and I don't need you to remind me. 
4. Weren't you due like a week ago? I don't remember my due date like a weird-o. I believe she will come when it's time for her to come. If I have to wait, so do you. 
5. Are you sure you're not having twins!? I'm not. I'm really not. Babies just take up a whole lotta room and mine is no different. I already feel huge and cumbersome, please don't remind me. It's hard to move and walk. Turning from side to side in the middle of the night is hysterical. 
6. Still pregnant? I think if anyone asks me this one, I'm gonna tell them I swallowed a watermelon. Whole. As a dare. 
7. We just want to see the baby!! I. DO. TOO. Promise. I want to see her and hold her and love her on the outside and snuggle and be excited and cuddle with her and Blair. 

I'm a very sassy human. I just am, I come by it honestly, my mother is equally as sassy. She already told me she would spank my older brother Nate who has already asked me if I've "had that baby yet" (ha Nate! You're in trouble now!) I just want to finish my pregnancy in peace. I want to be able to focus on the task that is ahead of me. I don't want to get mad about stupid things that people say, without knowing. Hence this post, I'll just go ahead and ask you not to say these things. Talk about them among yourselves. Go for it. Just please, don't say them to me. That's all I ask. Don't post them on my Facebook wall. I will delete them. I will send you frownie faces.  I will rant about you to my husband. Can't we all just avoid that? :) 

Are there any other moms who got annoyed with people saying things like this? I feel like I see and hear it a lot. Maybe I'm making it up and no one will say these things to be...but just in case...here you go. 

We're really excited. Just this morning Blair said to me "My poor baby, she's gonna get suck a shock when I catch her, my hands are always cold!" It was adorable. 

As for now, I'm gonna take a nap. Because as I said, I get super sleepy now a days. And if I can nap, I will. :)

I might be in love with this picture....

Love is Blooming

Maybe I'm just getting sassy in my old age. Or maybe it's all pregnancy hormones, whatever it is, I've decided some things. Some things that are worth sharing.

For the first time in my life, I'm on the other side of this being pregnant thing. Normally, I'm the one watching and waiting for friends or sisters in law or my mom or whoever. I get excited about babies. About ALL of it, the pregnancy, the labor, the newborn. I wish every women felt comfortable with sharing their birth stories, because I always have this burning curiosity to ask. I like knowing it all, how long it took for them to go into labor, how many weeks they are, all of it.

As the pregnant one now though, on the other end, I must humbly apologize for all the times I've annoyed a pregnant lady. Because you can be sure I've gotten annoyed a time or two myself. Here and there. About certain things. Little things.

The matter of the uterus a common topic, though we don't call it that. But if we're all honest and grown up and adult about this, that's where babies are formed and created. The uterus.  I don't like saying things about my daughter being in my tummy...makes me feel like I've eaten her and that's weird. She is where God intended her to be. The muscular organ that has grown SO very large.

Here's the deal though, my reproductive system, is the business of three people. Me, my husband, and my God. This includes but is not limited to how many children we have, how far apart they are, and when they come out of me.

I've decided that when I go into labor, I don't want people to know. I have certain expectations in my head. One of them is that I will be in labor for a while, like my Momma was. (She had LONG labors, that crazy woman) So informing EVERYONE once the contractions hit/the water breaks/however my body decides to do this, is for me, my team, and my husband.

I want to post a picture of a beautiful baby and invite friends to tell her Happy Birthday. Because that's what a birthday is people, celebrating the day that YOUR mother pushed/went under/whatever to get YOU out. (Think about THAT the next time you think your birthday is all about YOU)

My plan is for my team to know. And for my closest family to know. My older brothers and their wives, a few grandparents, but honestly, as much as I love all of you, you can wait. Just like I've had to for these past few months. Be patient. This birth is not about  you, and I'm not entitled to have to tell ANYONE when I go into labor. Plus, who knows when it will ACTUALLY happen, AND there is no way to tell how fast or slow a labor will go.

Don't worry, when she's born, I'm gonna wanna tell everyone. I'm gonna wanna show everyone. I have someone taking birth pictures for us, I promise you that you won't miss much (and don't think to much about birth pictures, there will be nothing too graphic). Every mother is proud of their baby. Every mother wants to show their baby off, I'm gonna want to, really really.

Now that that is said, here, look at some pictures my best friend/godmother of my child/Auntie Ameh took of me. I look like I'm gonna have a baby and what not...weird!

 

I know that most of you have seen these, because of the good old Facebook, but I still wanted to write about it. It meant a lot to me that she took the time to take these pictures for me (and hopefully, will take some of me and Blair together..?) especially since we went to the place that she had gotten engaged at the DAY BEFORE!!!

I love that I have someone willing to help me document this time. Especially since I never thought I would want to. Ameh is amazing, and she's doing such a wonderful service for us...and I won't be able to say enough how honored I am that she is part of her Lennie's life. She doesn't love in little ways, she loves with her whole heart, and that's...that's beautiful and something worth teaching my daughter.

This is a poem that she wrote, and it's beautiful. I want to frame this and put it above my daughters bed/her little corner in our room.

Love is blooming, right here, right now, right inside of me, and that is a precious gift that I am holding close.

What's In A Name...

I think it's funny how when you are younger, you pick alllll sorts of names for your future children. You make lists and plans and forget all about the fact that you will be having a baby WITH someone and they might have some ideas of their own...

I've been thinking a lot about Eleanor's name. About why we chose and the people who influenced it. Honestly, I was convinced we were having a boy, so NOT seeing those little boy parts made my jaw drop, literally. We had joked the whole way there that the tech would tell us we were having a girl and not a boy, lo and behold...how jokes became truth.

On the drive home, giddy with news and excitement, we started talking names.

I'm not sure what it is, but this became a very big deal for me. Naming someone...well, it's their name. It's your name. You have it for the rest of your life. It's a big deal. I wanted her name to mean something, to stand for something. I wanted to name her after people and things that were heavy, big, important, and just for her.

Blair is really the one who named our girl. More than me. We hadn't ever talked about using two middle names, but in the end, that's how it worked out. I'm ok with it (shoot, her four cousins ALL have two middle names...I would list them, but that....that would take a lot of time...) (Love you Nate and Lori!). As we sat and talked and threw names out, Blair says,

"What about Eleanor Amanda Ray?"

Believe me or don't, but in that moment, I knew what her name was. I knew that was who she was. I knew that these were the people that I wanted to influence her life. 

Eleanor, for Eleanor Roosevelt, a great a lady. She said once "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Brilliant. Blair also just loves the name, and I was sold because I could shorten it to Ellie. I'm convinced that I want ALL my baby girls to have nick names that end in "ie" just like their Momma. It's a thing, just accept it. :) ALSO, Eleanor is the real name of the character Ella, in the book Ella Enchanted. Note, this is in reference to the BOOK and NOT the MOVIE which was a train wreck which ruined a literary masterpiece. 

We're nerdy. I want all of our babies to have some sort of book attached to their names as well. I do. And I love it. 

Now we come to the Amanda. After the two Amanda's in my life...

Every now and again, we are blessed with people who understand us and who truly want the best for us. My two best friends have been through a lot, and helped me through a lot as well. We have fought and been angry at one another, we have misunderstood one another, and we have gone through long periods where one of us couldn't speak to the other. I have seen them both at their worst and at their best and I love them. Whole heartedly. They are...some of the best people I know. I never thought...I didn't think I would ever name a baby after either of them, but when Blair suggested it, it made perfect and wonderful sense. 

I want Ellie to know what it means to be strong. I want her to know what it means to respect others who are different than you, who grew up differently. I want her to know what it's like to make friends with people who may not believe what you do, but who love love love you and support you. Both of my Amanda's are this type of person in my life. I can't...I can't begin to tell you how they've impacted my life. They've left foot prints on the map in my heart and they are tattooed there, forever, as people who I have to be close to. Even if we end up on the other side of the country, we will still be close, because I hold them close. 

My husband is a brilliant man, for knowing just how much these two people mean to me, and allowing me to name our daughter after two people who I hope and pray will always be part of my little girl's life. 

Ray. 

Ray is...Ray is a weighty name. I might cry while I tell you about this name, because I'm hormonal and Beauty and the Beast and Harry Potter made me cry last night...

This past December, my family watched as my mother's father went from home to another. It was hard. We love him and to see him such a state...it was hard. I knew I was pregnant at the time, and this was at the beginning, with all the sickness. The last time I saw my Papaw, he could barely speak, and barely move. I said good bye and that I loved him, and he pointed to me and said "I love you." And then he gave me and my daughter a gift that I will treasure forever, he pointed to my barely showing belly and said "I love you too." I might have told this story here before, but I don't care. Like Mary, I hold it close to my heart and store it there as a treasure. 

When he finally got to leave this world, Blair and I decided that in some way, we would honor him with our new little life, the first great grandchild who doesn't get to meet Papaw. His name was Raymond, and for our little girl, we shortened it to Ray. 

One of the coolest things about the name Ray though, is that it's not JUST for my Papaw. My Mother, probably one of the best people I'll ever know,  also has his name for her middle name, Pamela Ray. Add to that my big brother Nate, my twin just born a few years ahead of me (We are so so so alike...) who was named after both his grandparents, Guy Raymond. 

I love my family, and the friends who have slowly become part of that family. I have been blessed to be loved by so many people, and my daughter will also be blessed to be loved by so many 

9.5

I don't think that you should force creativity. I think sometimes, you'll feel more creative than other times. It's a stage, and it all comes and goes in stages.

Lately, I've wanted to draw and paint and sketch and play and doodle and and and all the things. There was only one problem, sometime in our move from tiny apartment to tinier apartment in his parent's house, I lost/misplaced a journal.

This had never happened before. I wasn't sure how to handle it. I panicked, maybe cried, maybe made my husband drive me around to several places to see if I had left it somewhere else. I love my art journals. I've been keeping them since I was probably 12 or 13...I have stacks of them. I re-read them, see how my life has changed and been documented. So to lose one, to not know where it is...it's like...it's like loosing someone you love. Not to mention, when we lost our baby last July, I journal'd a lot to get through that. It's...it's a heavy journal. It's one I need to remind myself that I got through it. I follows this ocean tide of happiness and sadness and eventually, hope that I would carry as far as I am right now with Ellie.

And I don't know where it is. I still don't. 

But...but, I've come to terms that it just needs to be hidden right now, for whatever reason. This did not change the burning fury in me to creative and doodle.

This week I was at a friends house, well, this past week. As I'm sitting and talking to my friend, I see a fairly large black journal. Without asking whose it is, I take it and begin to draw what's been in my head for weeks (a Dandelion...), and from there, it was allllll good. It turns out the journal belonged to my friends husband, who knew I had lost the other journal so he says "Take this one."

Flabbergasted, I informed him that if he gave it to me, I would NOT be giving it back. It just...I wouldn't. It would become mine, but he knew that.

So here I am now with journal 9.5.

And a big huge heart full of thank you to D.J. Trevor for knowing me better than I know myself. I found that I can't go without an art journal. I need it. It's my way to keep in touch with the art that I love so well and to express the things that I can't otherwise.

I'm incredibly thankful that I have friends who know me better than I know myself. I'd be a hot mess without them....

Choices, My Team, and A Plea For Help

Let's talk about choices. Because, we all have to make them.

Some woman chose to have their children in hospital, some have them in cars (because they don't make it there), some woman in third world countries have them in huts. Some woman, have their babies at home.

As most of you know, this what Blair and I chose for our baby. We are informed and educated, we get that it freaks some woman out, we get that some people can't or won't or that they fell uncomfortable doing so. Let me be clear, regardless of where you are going to have your baby you should feel comfortable. If you don't, this will highly impact how your labor goes and I believe that with all my heart.

We are embarking in a grand journey right now. Big things are happening, we're excited. I'm growing a human. It's kinda awesome. As we draw near to going into labor, there are some things on our "To Do" list that we haven't done yet. We haven't made a Birth Plan (which, though I know it can change, I think is important to write down, if you haven't, consider it and check out this site http://www.birthingnaturally.net/ because it has a lot of incredibly useful information on Birth Plans) and as I sit today and consider what I want on there, I start to think of who I want there. My team.

I need a team. I need people who know me and help me and are there for me. Here is my team:

The Husband 
It's pretty standard. He's been with me every step of the way, seeing me at some of my worst times. He's supported me, prayed for me, loved me (Even when I was being completely insane), and helped me remember how to breathe. He's wonderful. He does things sometimes that I didn't know I needed him to do. I can't imagine a birth without him. I couldn't imagine him not being there to catch our little girl. I think it's so neat that the very first person, outside of me, who will touch her, is her father. What a story to tell her...

My Mother
 Not only has my mother given birth to 7 amazing children (if I do say so myself), she's been training to be a Doula. And I've seen her in action.

My mother is amazing. She's beautiful and compassionate and she loves to serve. I need her in the room with me. I need her to calm me down and rub away the stress. I need her to remind me that I can do this. I need to see that look on her face, the one where I know, that if she could go through it all for me, she would. She's going to take care of me, and my Husband while he supports me. She's not going to leave my side, I know she's not. And in the end, I feel like the privileged one to be able to have this woman with me.

The Photographer 
Here's where I get a lot of "you're crazy" from people. My very best friend and Godmother to my child will be here to photograph Eleanor's Birth. I want pictures, and yes, I want pictures of it all. I want pictures of my labor position and what my face looks like when my uterus contracts. I want pictures of my mom and my husband holding my hand, I want pictures of the time, the date, the tools, everything. I want pictures of my team and I want pictures of Blair's face the minute he meets his daughter. I want pictures of us holding her and of all the people in the room crying, I want all of it. Documented. Maybe not so much for you, but for me. In my experience at the five labors I've been to, Mothers forget a lot of little things that happen. Photographers help capture those little moments. More than that, I want her her. I want her to see what birth is like, I want her to experience with me that I am not afraid, and I want her to be able to tell Ellie one day, "Hey, I was there..." Think of it as making memories.

My Mother in Law
She doesn't even know that she's on my Team, but she so is. She's the background person. I can see her cooking and making sure people have eaten. I can see her making sure we have whatever we need, towels, wash cloths, warm blankets, anything and everything. She might not be in the room when I push, but she will be in spirit and I need her. I do.

And finally,
My Midwife and Her Team
This is where we get to some of what I really want to talk about. Some things I might ask for some help with. I need her professional hands to be here with us after the birth. I've also seen her in action and I love her. More than that, I love her in general. I've loved since before we even got pregnant. She's been amazing and phenomenal and graceful and taught us so much. When we lost our first baby, she checked on me for months. And when we found out about Eleanor, she knew my fears. She calmed my fears. She helped me get through those fears. When I got sick, she encouraged me, and didn't judge me when I told her that at the time, I just couldn't eat well...my keytones looked atrocious for months and she never once made me feel like a bad mother. It was...precious. Her team is wonderful, and I need her there to help calm those fears. I need to hear her tell me that she knows that it works but that it's for my daughter.

Which is why, what I'm about to ask my friends and family is not asked lightly. Since being sick, we've had to cut back on a lot of things. I couldn't work for a while. We lost a lot of money...and then there were ER trips and my need for Zofran to make it through the day (which has slowed down a lot! Some days, I don't even need it!). My midwife is a professional and as a professional, she should be paid. While we are slowly but surely working on that, it's taken a lot out of us.

I know...I know there are some people who have told us that they would still like to get Ellie a gift. Well...here is the gift I'm asking for: please help us with our midwifery bill.  Think of it as a blessing to a family that would like to pay the woman who helps bring a healthy baby into the world. All you have to do is follow this link and specify that however much money you would like to donate goes to Blair and Maddie Jaques. It would be an incredible blessing to us. And it doesn't have to be much. And if you are thinking "we've already given them a gift" then don't worry about this. We would ask that you prayerfully consider helping us, and if you can't, then really, it's ok. Any and all help would be wonderful and we'd appreciate it.

We are trusting, no matter what, that this will be taken care of, either by ourselves alone, or with the help of others. At this point, I can't humble myself much lower...shoot, in January I had to ask people to bring me food and my house...God bless all the people who saw my house.

God is good. He is faithful. And we're trying to only ever do what He would ask of us. For us, this means that we birth at home, here in our little apartment at his parents with the best team possible. If you can or are willing to help make that team possible, you have no idea the amount of gift that you are giving to us.

Plus Ellie SSSSSSSOOOOOOO doesn't need ANYTHING else. Child is already spoiled, I'll be real. :)

Baby Growing, Mother's Day, Middle of May!!!

Well friends I feel like it's been a long time since I last wrote anything to you. We've been awfully busy. My new job, Blair's new job, growing a baby, no biggie. :) Not to mention that when I DO have days off I feel this incredible need to be SUPER productive. So I end up scheduling myself for about a billion things. I promise you I'm trying to slow down...it's just not so easy.

As always, I've been thinking about five million different things that I want to share with my few friends who follow this blog (are you following me? I would love for you, I really love sharing my thoughts). I am trying to think of the best way to organize these thoughts and make them coherent. It's not easy, especially with the Ellie STEALING MY BRAIN. Seriously, Baby Brain, it's real. In fact, let's start there!

I have become VERY dyslexic as my pregnancy progresses. I mix up letters and numbers and words like it's my job in life. When I'm researching something for the Library or looking up a book for a patron, I end up typing it all backwards. I have to re-try quite a bit. So in advance, I apologize for all grammatical and spelling errors. I should let the Fairy Godmother read these before I post them...it would probably cut back on me sounding illiterate.

This past Saturday I took pictures for some of my very favorite people (side note, why, at the END of my pregnancy have I decided that spending all this time taking pictures for people is a good idea? Oh yeah, I love it...got it...). We walked FOUR miles. And I did the WHOLE thing. I won't lie, for me, this was a big deal. It helped me sleep and walking is such an amazing thing to help with labor. What's more, those pictures turned out amazing and I love them. Plus that family is one of the best. No joke. I even let the mom use my camera to document me. My husband has been on a lot of my photo shoots lately, and I love it. I love when he comes with. We both got thousands of bug bites, but it was so so so worth it.

I feel very big now. We're almost 34 weeks and man...I marvel at how big she is, and that she will just get bigger. How did God DO this? This right here, what I'm doing, makes me feel like more of an artist than anything I've ever created before. I'm helping to MAKE a HUMAN. How...how can this not blow your mind? Even on the worst of days when I just want to skip to the part where I push her out...I can't help but think about her in there growing and moving. She's so funny, so full of personality. We went to see Shrek the musical (which my younger sister Evie was in and who did an AMAZING job) and Eleanor LOVED it. Very rarely does she move that much! I think we have a future theatre/musical geek on our hands.

I celebrated Mother's Day, and herein lies a small rant. While at Church, I heard someone make a comment when I raised my hand to signify that I am mother. While it was not the right time or place to call said person out, I so badly wanted to. Being pregnant, counts. You. Are. A. Mother. What's more, even if I hadn't been as pregnant as I am, I would have raised my hand. Cara counts. To tell the mother of a lost baby, whether miscarriage or still born, is to deny that she had life inside her. To deny that life...is unacceptable. And mean. And cruel. Being pregnant with Ellie certainly helped this year, however, I still felt the sting of our loss. Because my plan for this year, was to actually have a physical baby to hold, and not just a memory.

For the record, if you know a woman who suffered a loss in any way, and it's mother's day, make damn (yes, I used that word, get over it) sure to tell her Happy Mother's Day. And if in your opinion said person is NOT a mother, keep it to yourself. You have no idea how your comment will affect her. I'll get off my high  horse now, but that one comment I heard behind me really...well, it got to me.

We are doing really well. Pregnancy wise, moving, in general is getting harder and harder. Even flipping from side to side at night takes a lot of me. I think it's hysterical, Blair sometimes...not so much. I'm pretty sure I woke him up last night because I moved his pillow because it was "trying to eat my face"? He grumbles, but he will always scoot over or help me adjust the thousands of pillows I sleep with. He's a trooper, I love him.

Stretch marks have finally decided to REALLY show up. It seems as though in the past two days I've gotten these beautiful lines marking up my belly. I love them. I love the evidence that I am carrying life.

Let's talk about yoga for a second, because I love yoga. I wish I was going more frequently. I feel very good about myself and my baby after we go. Everything hurts less. :) I also like that most of the poses are things I can bring home and do on my own. My instructor is wonderful and adorable and makes me feel incredibly at peace. (In fact, after this, I'm gonna go do some stretches...things be tight up in here yo!)

All in all, we're just getting more excited. I keep praying about labor, and trusting in my midwife and listening to Blair when I feel crazy (which has been rather frequent I must admit...) I'm drinking lots of red raspberry leaf tea and another tea called NORA tea (Nettles, Oats, Raspberry leaf, and Alfalfa) and I feel strong. Most of the time. Sometimes, when I'm still for too long and then start going again, I get weird and move really slowly. I've got the pregnant waddle down, even though I try really hard to walk normally.

It's already the middle of May and June is almost here! I keep in mind that Little Miss might decide to come in July (which I can TOTALLY see her doing because she's half Blair and he's stubborn like you would not believe) just to mentally prepare myself that I might not be "done" when the calender says I should be. Babies come when they're ready. I'm ok with that.

I will really try to post more! I have lots of things that happen and I think, "That would make a great blog post" and then I get home....and Eleanor says "SSSSSSSSSLLLLLLLEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPP" and I must admit, I'm willing to oblige the little goober. :)