Chapter One: "But I Can't Keep Him Safe Out Here"

It somehow didn't occur to me that I would go into labor on my own with baby Dean. In my head, we had a plan and by golly we were going to stick to that plan.

By golly we did NOT stick to that plan.

To tell Dean's birth story we have to back up to a snow storm that postponed a Dinner Theater I helped direct/Write/throw together as a fundraiser for my little sisters. When we picked a new date because of the snow, I knew we were cutting it awfully close to my induction date.

We also have to talk about one of the best woman I've had the privilege of knowing: Stephanie Conley. We all knew she was sick, that God was calling her home, none of us knew when. God knew. The Monday after my Card Shower, she got to go home to the Lord. I was so thankful I had the week of work off to grieve and be there for her kids, who are practically like family to me.

That Friday we had our Dinner Theater. It was great. Exhausting at 28 weeks 5 days pregnant, but it was awesome. I was so glad I was able to help my sisters. That Saturday, I was able to go to Stephanie's Celebration of Life. I got to play with her Grandson. I got to hug her kids. I got to cry as I heard stories about her children eating breakfast together after she'd gone home to Jesus. It was beautiful. I wore an actual dress, she would have loved it, would have been so proud of me for looking like a girl with no paint on me anywhere!

These events are important, because when I woke up Sunday morning, I felt off. Uncomfortable. I went to Church (also keep in mind Blair had been at Drill that Saturday and most of Sunday, because you know, stuff always happens when he's at Drill) and tried to sit still, but I couldn't. My lower back just...hurt. I knew this could be a sign of labor, but was nervous to say much to anyone. My mom, however, I think she knew something was up. I was greeted by people, given some amazing Cinnamon Rolls and a red hat for my boy, and was prayed over by the Elders of our Church, joined by my parents and Blair's Father.

I could spend so much time just on that alone...how powerful that room felt...how the very presence of the Lord was there...I feel like that's a whole other blog post though. Maybe one day. :)

By the end of Sunday School I was uncomfortable. Ellie went home with my parents, Abbie came with me to get our stuff "just in case" and by two thirty I was at my parents house, and I was feeling contractions. Blair's unit was able to be released early and he was on his way to get his things and to come to my parents house. I jumped in the shower because the back labor was really starting to make me VERY uncomfortable. Blair got there, and we timed a few contractions while my dad watched the Superbowl game and my mom made food. Around five thirty we decided that maybe we should go to DC.

I was nervous about going in. Mainly because with Ellie, I had a lot of back and forth labor and it just took a while for my body to kick it into gear. My mom and Blair were very encouraging, and Blair was adamant that we go get checked there. My dad and Blair and Mom packed up, we called Ellie's "Uncle Jon and Aunt Kackie" to let them know she needed to be picked up, and away we went.

When we got to the hospital, they checked me and I was at 3 CM. I walked around the hallways for what seemed like forever with my mom and Blair. His Dad and my Dad watched the Superbowl Game in the waiting room. Dean was more excited than I've ever seen him, and my Dad was worried about me and the baby.

Through all this, the entire thing, my Daddy has been my Daddy. It's amazing to his love for me, our son, and Blair. To know that this is a reflection of our Heavenly Father's heart for us. This could also be a whole other blog post.

I went back to be checked around ten, had dilated to a four, so I was admitted, once again, to be on the safe side.

There was blood pressure taken, heart monitors put on him, contraction monitors put on me, blood drawn and BOOM. It was time, apparently, for me to labor.

All night the nurses kept asking me if I felt the contractions, the answer was always no. I had a lot fo back pain, but I was able to get some rest, ONCE we were able to monitor babies heart beat.

Let me tell you, this boy is a stinker. All I wanted was to lay on my side and go to sleep! Every time I did we would lose his heart beat and the nurses would have to come in and mess with me until they found it again. I was uncomfortable for a lot of the night. We had one nurse who FINALLY found his heart beat while I was on my side and then there was sweet sweet rest. Thank you Jesus!

I continued to have contractions I couldn't really feel and continued to dilate all morning. I spent a lot of time on Facebook being goofy and a lot of time texting other people. Quite frankly, for a while, I was bored. I watched movies and listened to music. Blair played a lot on his computer. We chilled.

Around ten, I stopped making progress on my own. We were given the option of using Pictocin. After talking to Blair and my Mom, we went for it.

While we waited for them to get it all set up, I had a few moments. All the sudden, this was real, all the sudden we were going to be serious about getting him out. All the sudden things were out of my "control" and he would be on the outside...where I can't keep him safe. I wasn't ready, I told my Mom, I wasn't ready. I cried. She came and hugged me and we prayed and Blair held my hand. I took a deep breathe, we began the pict and so began the hardest labor of the two I've had.

Pictocin is brutal. At first I thought, ok, I can handle this. Ok, this isn't so bad. Ok, this is doable. It helped me dilate, I felt more contractions, everything was going well. I had a lot of friends praying for me because they knew how important it was for me, personally, to have a vaginal birth with little to no intervention. Around two, after some good laboring,my pict level was at 10 and we had the option to break my water.

We broke my water.

And it felt like all hell broke lose.

I stopped being able to breathe through contractions. I felt baby boy move down and the doctors even told me that he was. (I did not need to be told, I felt it, I promise!) The pictocin made my contractions fast and STRONG. With Ellie, I had a build up. I would get cold and then as I got warmer I knew a contraction was coming and could mentally prepare my mind. With the pict contractions, they just WERE. I had no build up. I clung to my mom and Blair. I didn't want them to leave my side. I was checked, was dilated to about a six/seven and told to labor through those contractions to bring baby boy down more.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. It was brutal. I thought, there is no way I can do this this way. I can't even relax between contractions, I felt like I couldn't breathe. If Blair or my mom were not holding my hand during those contractions I felt lost.

I begged them to make it stop. Around three I thought I just couldn't make it through. I begged them and begged them to help. Blair held my hand the entire time and told me to look in his eyes while I contracted. I remember thinking how handsome his eyes were, and remember the smile on his face as he would tell me good job. I also remember snapping at him at one point when he told me to stop fighting the contractions. I very loudly told him I wasn't fighting. He didn't take it personally. I love him so much.

My mom also held my hand. She kept telling me how wonderfully I was doing, that I was the only one who could bring him here. She helped me relax my shoulders and my forehead, taking the tension away from those areas and getting me to focus on bringing baby down. I kept telling them I couldn't do this, I couldn't do this, that it hurt, it was different, that I couldn't do it.

I remember this utter feeling of helplessness and hopelessness and feeling like this labor would last forever. I tried to talk to the Lord, to call on Him, but I just couldn't. I tried to tell Blair to talk to Jesus, I remember telling him to ask Jesus to help me through. I could see in Blair's eyes the prayers he offered up for me.

I would have gotten an epidural if not for my mom and Blair. I begged for it, Blair knew that's what I was asking for. At one point he said to me "Maddie, you don't want that. If you get that, you won't feel him the same way you felt Ellie and you loved feeling Ellie. You can do this." If he hadn't reminded me...well, who knows? I did ask for the laughing gas though, and was so mad when it felt like it took them too long to get it to me.

I ended up not even being able to use it. It freaked me out too much. I would have contractions and put the mask on my face and try to suck it in and couldn't. I felt like I was suffocating. It scared me more than it helped me. I think this was close to four.

By four, I felt pressure and I was just so so so done. I bore down a little, felt him move, and yelled for my mom and Blair to bring the doctor's in. When she went to check me she told me she felt a little cervical lip. She pushed it back and that was it. I felt him move down. I knew I wanted to push. So I did.

Oh Lord have mercy the confusion and drama! Ha! She was yelling for the other nurses to get the babies doctors and telling to stop pushing. There was no way I could not not push! But I did! Normally, I probably would have been like, Nope! I'm pushing. But for my son...I knew my son needed those doctors. So I breathed hard. I looked at Blair at my mom. I did what I could, but it got to a point where I couldn't hold back anymore. I felt him crown, the doctor was literally holding him in, I was yelling, people were running every which way and she said GO! Push! I pushed.

Not for long though. I think I gave one or two good pushes and I felt my son come into this world. And to my amazement and delight, they laid him on me. And oh was he beautiful.

And oh was I terrified.

With Ellie, we had a good 30 minuted together, she laid on my chest, she latched on. My son was there mere minutes before they needed to evaluate him. Blair went to the corner with him, my mom held my hand while I was shaking and crying. I could hear him cry. They were checking for tears and reminding me to deliver the placenta. I bore down and it came out with no issues. The next thing I know I hear "Let his Momma hold him."

I was preparing my heart to not be able to hold him after his birth. I was preparing to hear the worst.

God gave me the best.

My son wrapped up in a blanket in my arms, I got to kiss his face and tell him I loved him and stroke his cheek. He calmed at the sound of my voice and oh oh oh he was so so so beautiful.

And then they had to take him.

And I cried.

And My Mommy held my hand and told me how brave I was and how beautiful I was and how proud she was.

4:14 pm on Monday, February 8th, weighing 7 pounds 8.8 ounces, here was my son, Dean Blair Jaques, yes, the Fifth.

I said the hardest part was holding him in, but that's not true. After being checked out by the NICU he was prepared to go to Children's Hospital CICU.  They packed him and before he went over, they brought him to see me. 

He was in a big plastic box, there were tubes already in him and oxygen on his nose. And he knew my voice and I got to tell him I loved him and stroke his cheek. Twice.

Twice.

And then, they took my son to another hospital, and I couldn't go with him. 
And this was the hardest thing I have ever done. 
To watch my son leave. 
To not be able to go with him. 

God knows my heart. And He knew there were certain things that I just said "Lord, if you are willing, please let this happen." Every single one of those things happened.

I went into labor on my own and wasn't induced.
I did not have to use cervidal or cytotec to soften my cervix.
I did not have to get an epidural or a c-section.
I was able to hold and kiss my son, twice, after he was born.

Dean's birth story, and his story from now on, is to be told in chapters.
Chapter One, I can't keep him safe out here, but oh oh oh, the Father Can.

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.

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. :)

Battling Irrationality

I am not to much of a coward to admit that I get scared.

I think that cowardly people are the ones that don't admit when they are scared. I think that by admitting you are scared you take power away from what it is that is making you scared, and you allow others into your mind where they can calm those fears.

I grew up around childbirth. I went to school and would come home to a baby. I looked through the Bradley Birthing Method book at a young age. When I was 19, I saw my best friend push out my God Daughter, since then, I've seen four other births. It's something that I've talked about, read about it, know about, am educated about.

However, I have never given birth myself. Not to a full term baby. So no, I don't know what contractions feel like, I don't know what it feels like to need to push, I don't know what it's like to get to a point in labor where you just think, "What the hell am I doing?" And yes, just like that. The sensations will be all new to me, something different that I've never experienced.

And I am not to much of a coward to not admit that the thought of giving birth at the end of June/maybe July, kinda scares me a little. I mean, ok, maybe I need to rephrase how I'm wording this. I just have an incredibly high respect for it, sometimes, though, that respect borders on irrational fears.

I am not scared of what my body can do. I am not scared of what God has created me to do. I am not scared of the pain, it is temporary, fleeting, and worth it to hold my daughter.

I am scared of what I don't know. I am scared of all the "what-ifs" and basically, the things that are out of my own control.

Here is how I am battling these fears: talking, listening, praying, trusting in those who know more than me. Trusting that my midwife has all the knowledge she needs to help me bring my daughter into this world. Trusting that my husband will be by my side, eager to help (where he can), knowing that he will encourage me. Talking about these fears with my Husband, asking him to listen to me, however much invalid or unlikely they are. Listening to those who have done this before, who tell me that it really truly is all worth, regardless of if your birth goes how you planned it or not. Praying that no matter what does happen, God is glorified through this experience, and that His ultimate goal for us is achieved. To bring into this world a life we've been blessed with.

In the past year I've been around and experienced a lot of those unknowns. Tragic things, hard things that cut you to the core. I've seen grieving mothers, grieved myself, and grown so much because of it. I have a very clear idea, in my head, how I want things to go to bring Ellie Girl into this world. Certain things I do know, like I just want to be home surrounded by my Husband, Mother, Best Friend, and a midwife who lets me labor, and is there as my just in case. I want to trust that my body can handle this. I know that I can do it, and I know in the throes of labor I'm going to try to convince my Mommy, my Husband, and my Best Friend, that I can't do it, that I won't do it, that I don't want to do it any more. I know in my heart, that each person in their own way will tell me that I can, that I will, and that I have to.

I'm finding out that the people who surround you before your labor and during it matter so much. That if I didn't have my Husband and Mother and Best Friend and amazing Midwife, I'm not sure I would be given leave to trust the way that I want to.

My crazy hormonal pregnant mind day dreams a lot about what could happen, what might happen. Each time I start to panic slightly about what I can't control, I remember something. God is in control. He's in control now, and He will be in control then. Regardless of what happens, or doesn't happen, He is still there. Why do we all seem to think in these moments of desperation that He just isn't there? I'm guilty of it. But I don't want to be.

I imagine myself in my bedroom at four in the morning, hanging onto my husband, crying because I can't, and I pray in those moments that I hear that still small voice who says "You know, you're right, you can't, I can, because I Am." THIS is what I want to remember to stop these irrational fears. THIS is what I want to remember while surrounded by the people I have gathered to be my birth team. THIS is what I want to remember IF we have to transfer. THIS is what I want to remember IF she is breech and the little sucker doesn't turn. THIS is what I want to remember IF nothing goes like how I want it go.

That I serve I Am, and in those moments, I'm surrounded by His Love. 

By the way, I love love LOVE this picture.

The Cost

Blair and I were reading not long ago that when you blog you should do so with some sort of purpose. I'll be honest, I'm not sure what my purpose is for writing except that I like to and it helps me organize my thoughts. I also live under the impression that if you can help someone else in ANY way, well, you should. Especially when you're a Christ Follower. When did we become so tight lipped? Why is it so hard to want to share our lives to help one another?

Granted, at the moment, I'm all about Baby Girl. I'll be honest, it's been a journey, and I like to chronicle it here for you people/maybe a little for myself. We as a couple and individually have learned a lot. It's important for me to share, because for once, I didn't let the bad outweigh the fact that God is still working in my life. I'm learning things about the character of God that I'm not sure I understood before.

This weeks post centers around one song, ONE. We went to visit the Fairy Godmother this weekend, because I have been feeling AWESOME and wanted to see her. She got to feel her Lennie (NO ONE ELSE IS ALLOWED TO CALL HER THAT, HER NAME IS ELLIE OR ELEANOR)(for the record) kick, made us dinner, we watched stupid movies, and she had no idea that we were coming. We also got to see the Fairy Godfather. The whole hour long drive there, we just got to be together. Just got to live. Just got to chill out man. There was much talking and much singing. This song has been in my head all week.

"Real Love is not afraid to bleed."

Soak that line in for a second. It stuck with me and I started to think allllll sorts of thunks. 

See, I love God, I do. I love Jesus, I love the Bible, I mean, if you can't tell that by now, then you might have missed something. I am learning how to live in my life in a quietly bold way. One where I am able to say my opinions without being a jerk. Christians, we can have our beliefs, it does NOT mean we have to be rude or mean about it. I believe that Jesus, being God, took the form of man, came down, died for me. 

Died for me. Bled for me. Think about this. The cost for Jesus to LOVE me the way He wanted to, was to bleed for me. This song says "I've counted up the cost, and you are worth it." What is the cost?  Me. The cost of following Jesus is that I pursue Him, love Him, seek Him, get to know Him. I'm not selfish enough to think that this world is all about me. I forget it sometimes, but in reality, I know that in the end I want people to know WHO I loved, instead of just that I did. 

As my belly grows bigger and bigger, I think about what this baby costs us. Not money wise, but time wise, and life wise, and physically. In just a few short months I will prepare to work in such a way that I have never worked before. I will get tired, I will want to quit, I will want to stop, it will hurt, it will take all the strength I have, but in reality? It's not about me. 

What you might say? You being in labor is not about you? Are you crazy?

No. Labor is about bringing new life into this world. Therefore labor is about my child, not about me. I hope that what I'm saying makes sense. Because all the sudden, I understand Jesus just a little more. He knew the pain that awaited him, I know the pain that comes from childbirth. He knew that he would bleed, there is a fair amount of what people call "birth grossness" when it comes to labor. He knew that the cost of what He was doing was worth it. I know that the cost of having my daughter with us is all this HARD work that I will have to do. 

But I've counted up the cost, Eleanor Amanda Ray is worth it. And it must be real love that I feel for her, because I'm not afraid to bleed, I'm not afraid to spend hours waiting and working for her, I'm not afraid of whatever pain might come, because at the end, I get her. 

As I thought about this, I thought about my Jesus in those hours before the cross. You know, Easter is coming, and while we celebrate the fact that um, you know, He ain't dead, let's go back and read what He did. Read those chapters in John. Out loud. Let yourself cry because of the pain and blood loss. Remember that He did it for you, just because it's real love, just because He loves you. Remember that all He wants is a better life for you, all He wants is your Heart, and man, once you've tasted that Love, it's hard to want anything more. 

Then call your Momma, if you can. Say thanks for bleeding for you, working for you, for bringing you here. Tell her thanks for thinking you were worth it. And if you can't thank her, or you don't speak to her, thank God. The fact that you are alive means that someone really truly loved you. No matter where you are now.  

An Old Man, My Momma, and Pants.

Today was an interesting day. It didn't start off so well, but it ended up being pretty awesome.

I got sick yesterday and again this morning. I've been having a hard time convincing myself that bad days are just bad days, and that really, I will survive. I have a flair for the melodramatic so I get very "woe is me".

Yesterday, I made sure to get out of my bed. This is a big deal for me. When I feel that crummy, I don't want to move that much. I made it out to the mailbox, and when my Blair came home from work, I was on the couch not in our bed. I had a thought during the day "He would be so please, knowing I'm having a crummy day, if I was not in our bed." I was right. He was pleased. It was adorable.

This morning was one of those barely-make-it-to-the-bathroom type deals. So special. I'm laying bed thinking, Maybe today will be better, and my mouth fills with...well...it was very very special. I sat in our bathroom floor, cried for a second (throwing up usually makes that happen to me anyways) and then thought, How can today still be good? 

I'm tired of accepting defeat. I'm tired of having these days when I feel debilitated. So I got dressed. I picked up our bed room. I got a text from my Momma, asking me if I would like to go grocery shopping/baby carrier/stroller shopping with her. I went out on a limb and said yes, praising God the whole time that she was driving and I was not. When I drive on these days, I make it one  place and then head home, HG wears you out physically too people.

I folded a basket of clothes. Made the bed. Went out with my Mommy.

And it was ok. 

I got tired and had to sit sometimes. I had to be clear about how I felt and my limitations. I don't last long, and one or two things make me super tired. But there was some things that happened that made it so worth it.

For example, I met a man while I was resting who had been married 61 years. Told me that his wife was still the most beautiful and elegant lady that he'd ever seen. Told me where he was from, talked about Sight and Sound in Lancaster PA, and about his great-grandchild due in April. He explained that he hated shopping, but went with her because she liked it, and how hungry he was. He asked me how long I'd been married (a year this Sunday!!) and congratulated me on our Ellie Girl. We talked food, groceries, life, and the Bible. His wife called him over to help her get the groceries checked out, and on their way out, he shook my hand and said "God bless you, your husband, and your baby." His wife told me that if we didn't have a name picked out, that Rebekah was a great name (it was her name!). When I told them we did, and who and why she is named what she is named, they both big smiles, he said, "That's a beautiful tribute to what sounds like a great man and some great friends. That's a good name."

My mom checked out soon after, and told me she should have given me the keys to the car, but I'm so glad she didn't. That man made my day, and if he is the only reason I went out, then God knew what He was doing.

So often we see broken marriages, and hear the horror stories. This world can be harsh, cruel, subjecting us to some things that hurt our heart. Coming across a man, woman, human, that make our hearts burst with joy and love, that's something special.

I hope one day, when Blair and I are married for 61 years, Lord Willing, and out grocery shopping, he or I get the chance to sit next to a 22 week pregnant woman and encourage her like I felt today. A complete stranger...he has no idea how much that conversation stuck with me.

Most importantly today, I got to spend time with my Mommy. I covet this time with her. She knows that sometimes I can't do so much, and that I need breaks. She walked into my messy house and never said a word about it. Grace comes in all forms. I realize how special this time is, and how incredibly blessed I am to be near her. Granted, she knows and I know, we both have our own busy lives. We don't do EVERYTHING with one another, and she knows my time with Blair is very...special and we both covet the time we get to spend together. And I know she's still a Mommy to three younger siblings, those things are important.

As I am on the journey to holding my baby (I already am a mother...) I just think about what it was like for her, all those times she was pregnant, all those times she prepared her heart to bring into this world another beautiful Carrigan baby. When our Ellie Girl wriggles and moves (which feels like a lot right now!) I think, you know, once, my mom felt this way about me. The wonder and excitement never gets old, I pray that it doesn't even get old. Each movement, each flutter is a reminder that she truly is there, that she is ours for a while, that we are blessed.

She dropped me off this afternoon and I passed out for a while. :) I am not kidding when I tell you I get super tired. I'm feeling good, ok, and I'm excited, because this means I can go to work tomorrow, Lord Willing. Mornings in the past week or so, have become hard for me again. It's like November all over again. Each day is new though, and I've stopped trying to plan what will and won't happen. I can't do that. I don't know. I don't know if I will wake up tomorrow feeling awesome, or if I will want to crawl back into bed and pray that my stomach stops hurting, that I won't puke more.

God is Holy. And...the more I come back to Him, and focus on what He says instead of what I feel, I do better. It's hard. It's really hard sometimes. When I throw up, yet another time, it's hard to think He hears what I've been begging. But you know, at the beginning of this pregnancy all I ever did was pray and pray and pray that we would make it this far, I never even thought to ask Him to make the pregnancy easy.

So really, He's answered all my prayers, and I just keep praying that He would help me focus on Him. Because really, trust me, I'm a better human when I do. I really am. :)

On a different note, I finally bought myself a pair of maternity pants! I had to call my Blair to make it was ok, because it feels like a lot of money, but I do miss wearing jeans, and my regular ones really aren't very comfortable. But these suckers! Oh man! Why don't we wear pants like these all the time?! I'm not kidding...I'm gonna wear them after I'm pregnant, I know it. I really am. :) I also bought a size down from what I normally buy...one, because I couldn't find my "normal" size, and two, because these fit very well. It was....it's nice. It's not the WAY I wanted to lose weight (sometimes, I feel like I'm bulimic... to a point where I need to go the Dentist to make sure my teeth are ok..yipes!!!) but you know, it's kinda a blessing, and I will take those where I can get them.

PUSH: The Labor Playlist

You know what I'm most excited about with this pregnancy?

Labor. That's what. I'm so stupidly excited to be in labor. I can't truly explain it, and I won't try to hard, because there are plenty of people who are probably like "You have no idea, you'll hate it." No. I won't. And most woman, if they're honest, won't and don't either. Why? Because you have a tiny little baby that you carried around with you for 40ish weeks and you finally get to meet them.

Maybe I just grew up weird, with a Mommy who talked about Birth and Labor and nursed (gasp!) in front of her older children. Maybe it's because when I was really small, maybe 7 or 8, I found her Bradley Birthing Method book and looked through. Have you ever seen that book? 1, It's a wonderful book and incredibly useful for a laboring mom and her partner, 2, there are some awesome pictures of laboring women in it. I wasn't scared though, to me, it seemed perfectly natural. I saw the looks on the women's faces too, I could see that they were working HARD, but it never occurred to me that they were in pain, or hated what they had to go through. It never occurred to me that a 7/8 year old should or shouldn't be looking at pictures of women pushing babies out of their vagina's. Although for the longest time, I really did think we pooped babies out and got worried when I went number two. For real. That happened in my little kid brain. :)

Maybe it's because since becoming an adult, I've seen one of my best friends in labor three times. No joke. I was there. It was real life. Or maybe I'm not scared of home birth because I got to witness another amazing friend bring her son into the world, at home. I've seen it all and felt some of it. I got hold my friends belly while her taunt tummy contracted around her daughter. I've cried each time I've seen these things. To see the strength there, the beauty...why is our culture so afraid of birth? Why don't we support one another's choices to birth where and how we want?

See, I don't like being told what to do. When I'm in pain, or working hard, I normally put on head phones, turn on some music and retreat to a very primal place where I work hard and get a job done. I've done it with yard work, with painting, with cleaning, with loads of things. I also know when I need people to look me in the eyes and tell me "Yes, you can do this." Therein lies the Husband's job.

I have more dreams about the labor that I look forward to than giving birth to kittens or whatever else people say you dream about. I have dreams about squatting next to our bed, holding my husbands hands, looking him in the eyes, and pushing. I tell myself, even now, you know, you can DO this. 

I'm not afraid. Oh but please don't think I don't have a healthy respect for labor and birth! Hence the reason I have a Midwife, hence the reason I have my mother who is also my Doula, because those woman, they know more than me medically wise. I have my primal instincts, but there are things I don't know, that they do. While I am not afraid, I have a healthy respect for what is unknown to me.

I  was thinking about all this today because I have to be excited about something, I just find it amusing that I'm most excited about the part that most women are afraid of, or don't look forward too. I'm a little weird.
I was also thinking about all this, because I made a playlist for myself called Push, and I wanted to share it. These are songs, for whatever reason, that I want to listen to while I'm working like I'll have to. Some of them are funny, some of them are serious, some remind me how I am fearfully and wonderfully made, some remind me of my husband. I have my reasons. I'm sure I'll add more as time goes by, but it's just fun to share. :)

• Falling into You, our wedding song, Maw
• Be Born, Tally Hall
• Summertime, Mae
• We Are Gonna Be Friends, The White Strips
• Eye of the Tiger, Survivor
• Psalm 126 (You Have Done Great Things), Chris Tomlin/David Crowder, Passion
• Viva La Vida, Coldplay (a feel good song for me.)
• Easy Silence, Dixie Chicks
• Crags and Clay, Gungor
• Lullaby, Dixie Chicks
• Crazy, Gnarles Barkley 
• Waiting for This, Hanson (I found this amusing)
• Sort Of, Ingrid Michealson 
• God Will Lift Up Your Head, Jars Of Clay
• Blessing in the Storm, Kirk Franklin
• The Circle Of Life, Lion King (Hey man, it's true! I'm giving birth! It makes sense!)
• Doxology, Micheal Gungor (I need some Camp in there for strength)
• I Will Wait, Mumford and Sons
• Looks Like Love, Needtobreathe
• Not With Haste, Mumford and Sons
• Fireflies, Owl City
• I Miss You, Blink 182 (Long story, but I want it there!)
• Man, I Feel Like A Woman, Shania Twain (you can't get much more womanly than birth yo!)
• Such Great Heights, The Postal Service 
• Us, Regina Spektor
• For the Moments I Feel Faint, Relient K
• Must Have Done Something Right, Relient K
• Captivated, Shawn McDonald
• I Celebrate the Day, Relient K (I know it's a "Christmas" song, but the lyrics are so good, and it would be a day to celebrate, no?)
• The Light, Sara Bareilles

It's all so exciting. And hey, we're almost there! Crazy to think that we're pretty much kinda half through our pregnancy waiting to meet our little girl. 

You know, despite everything, God is Good.