Honesty in a Very Raw Form

Motherhood is possibly the most difficult role I've been tasked with...in my life.

I'm finding out that adding a second child to the mix has really brought out all the stress to our entire family. I certainly do not blame my son. I mean, it's not like he asked to be born. It is not his fault in any way really. I mean, to be perfectly honest, he's a much easier child than Including baby.my first. Sorry Denzel, but it's true :) But what our family has been going through lately has been really difficult for me, maybe because I'm emotional. Although I have no doubt that each of the other three in their own way have struggled with this new adjustment over the past year.

I went to therapy today for the first time in two years. First, some context. I'm a social worker. I'm a strong proponent of mental health. And part of me believes that because I know and have all these skills, I should be able to work things out on my own. Number one, that statement could not be further from the truth. God has designed us for relationship and community. You were not designed to walk through life alone. But all that to say, if I'm going to therapy, as much as I believe in it, you know it's because I'm at my end. And I was. No more rope left, no more wick...what's that saying? Who cares, I was spent. So I went and saw her.

The drive to my therapist's office was ridden with shame, with guilt. Why am I going? Of course I'm stressed, we've been sick for months, I'm exhausted, these are all normal things. Dumb. What is she going to think? How can I help this girl with NORMAL problems? But then I walked in and was greeted with the upfront, bold therapist I instantly loved from years ago. P.S. My therapist is not a soft spoken, tell me how you're feeling, type. She is gentle when I cry, bold when I'm angry, listens all the time, but has NO problem adding her two sense, or humor. I appreciate a strong personality. That's why I came back. I caught her up to speed with new life changes, we talked about new baby, new house, new job, new challenges in my marriage, and my overall feeling of anxiety from being overwhelmed. I said through tears, "I do so fucking much, I don't even know where to start." And cue floodgates. I try not to curse often. I think it's dumb, but lately the f word is the only constant word going on in my head. It's the stress. She didn't judge me though. She sympathized, she empathized, she validated that this stage of life is extremely stressful and that I'm not the only one who has ever or is even currently going through this. So it was one session, and I walked away with some homework.

If there's anything I enjoy, it's being reflective and learning more about thought process. I always want to better myself--I just don't always say it in those words. So I drove back feeling instant relief. Not 100%, but definitely like 50-60% of my sanity had returned. One of the things we talked about was having this need to do it all myself. Have you felt that? I mean, WHAT IS THAT?! Why on earth do we (moms or dads or just people in general) have this feeling like we have to get the list done each and every day? I didn't realize what a problem it was for me until today when I caught myself every. single. time. I didn't want to let go of control several minutes of every hour. And what compounds the issue is, if it doesn't get done the way I want, or sometimes even if it's done the way I want but not by me, I have intense guilt about it. Tell me I'm not the only one. I realize it's ridiculous, but I'm being honest. I'm a mom that wants, in a perfect world, my children to eat only healthy things, have beautifully prepared meals each day, baby to drink only the very best breast milk packed with nutrients for his growing body, a nap and sleep schedule to be followed perfectly to the t, no one to get sick, a thriving marriage, a healthy spiritual life, friends all over the place, time to invest in every friendship, clothes that fit, a tummy that doesn't look like I just birthed the largest bowling ball known to mankind, hair that cooperates, work that is done faster than I expected, more money that I was expecting...I mean, the list goes on! And no one can live up to those standards. Notice I didn't say anything about a clean house. I have all but given up on my house. But really, why the guilt? Truth is, I don't know. I don't know why I can't rely easily on others for help, even though I'm better than I used to be. I don't know why it's so difficult for me to feel like I have to be the best at everything, do all things with a sweet demeanor, and have time for eyeliner. Why?

My therapist also said something pretty remarkable. She encouraged me to multitask in a different way. Instead of cleaning the house and making dinner, maybe I should nurse baby and cuddle D at the same time. She said your kids need your physical love at this age. Duh. Why didn't I think of that. I've been working on that more recently because Patrick told me the same thing, so I've really been trying to be cuddly with my 3 year old. And it's hard when you can't use the sink because there are so many dishes, or have no clean clothes as the laundry sits in a jabadahut pile on the floor. But I'm the one who wants these memories with my family, I have to create them, I have to be in them. So that's my goal: letting go of control long enough to capture the beautiful moment for future recall. I don't want my kids to remember their mom as the clean nazi that was always doing dishes or had her back turned from them to fold the clothes. I want them to remember a mom that threw the ball and got down on the floor to play. That's the mom I am, and want to keep being.

The issue isn't solved. I still feel like I'm in a fog of sorts. I still feel waves of anxiety or feelings of being overwhelmed, but like anything you take it one moment at a time, right? That's my approach. Because I'm tired of just barely hanging on. I'm tired of...ha ha, my eyes are heavy...I'm just tired!! So, I leave you with this thought...what one thing do you need to let go? I could write a list longer than jolly old St. Nicholas has of his naughty AND nice kids. But the best place to start is with just one.

When I'm critical of criticism

I'm bombarded with criticism all over the internet right now. People are upset about Paris (and rightfully so!), but others are critical of the France flag superimposed on the FB profile pictures. I read how some are more upset about Paris than Kenya, and still more are critical about how some lives are valued more than others. Can I just suggest something?

Can we take a step back? Just stop. And breathe.

Consider this prospective: we are all one humanity. We all live here on the Earth together. And whether you like it or not, that's the reality.

But all this criticism is getting out of hand. And maybe it's really showcased right now because of all the presidential debates that are going on. She said this. He proposes this. Obama is an awful president. I mean come on. Is anyone else sick of this? No, just me? You think it's just politics, but I think this mindset has seeped into the depths of our society. And criticism is quickly becoming hate. Now people are talking about blocking refugees. Criticism...hate. Just like that. Man, that was quick.

I think it's important to think for yourself critically. I do. I also think it's very important to take a look at why you individually, act or say what you do. But at some point grace needs to enter the scene. No more opinions, let's be gracious. I mean, really. At some point we need to say, I'm going to not be an angry person. I'm not going to act out of fear (that's really what I believe this is). Instead I'm going to *do* something (emphasis on the action of this word) that will benefit another human being that I live with on this earth. Stop making it about you. Stop saying me me me. I read an article that said someone compared the Paris attacks to climate change. Why? Why are we making an event of people's lives about our soapbox? That's enough with the criticism of everything. It's one thing if you're seeking just-thinking and encouraging equality. It's completely another when you bash people to get your point across. And just stop putting a population in a box. Stop saying we have to shut down the country, build a wall, be it literal or figurative to protect ourselves from "the enemy." No wall is going to protect you. It's not. I'm sorry, but you are not safe from terrorists. Do you really think cutting off refugees is going to help? Let me ask you a serious question...what experience do you have in fleeing a life-threatening situation? None? That's what I thought. I have no personal experience, but here's something you probably didn't know about me-my extended family has fled dangerous situations to preserve their lives, and haven't always been successful. I don't really want to go into details, because I don't want a pity party. But I do want to say until you know what it's like to have your fingers cut off, literally, tortured, children held for ransom, you don't really know what these people are going through. Just imagine for a moment-your life is at stake, and the country that offers freedom and piece of mind-they just said, "Nope, not here."

This world is not getting better. I know that the media broadcasts only the negative and positive happens daily all over the place without recognition. But maybe we don't add to the already negative world? Maybe the change starts within yourself. Because this toxic way of thinking you have to be on the opposite line from your neighbor--that's how the hatred starts. So quit with the criticism, and quit acting out of fear. Leave a little space, take pause to really consider what you're doing.

I have to believe in the goodness of humankind. I have to. I guess I just yearn for the day that goodness peeks through more than the darkness. I look forward to that day indeed.

I actually don't love you.

Those were the words that came out of my 3 year olds mouth yesterday, "I actually don't love you." I know it was bound to come one day, but I wasn't really prepared for it to be so soon.

Denzel and I have not been seeing eye to eye. That's really the nice version. It feels like there's an ongoing battle in my home with him. I'm sure if I talked to or observed other homes with three year olds I wouldn't feel so bad. But because he's my first, it feels like a lot to me. A lot of whining. A lot of crying. A lot of doing exactly what I asked him not to do. A lot of pushing limits. A lot of stuff I can't handle after being on vacation and coming home to all three other family members being sick (the boys and Patrick, thankfully I'm still healthy). And if there's one thing that gets me every time, it's his high-pitched voice whining about taking the apple skin off. I paid a lot of money for that organic apple skin! Or asking why he can't touch his sick brother's face. That's how you two got sick to begin with! I can't stand the whining and crying.

So yesterday we were at it again. I say we because I understand I have a part in this too. I know I could try to be more patient. In the moment, that is not how I feel though. So we fight, and quickly I change my attitude. Then it's something new. We make up. And something new again. It's constant. Last night he was in bed and I was explaining something to him and he said softly, "I don't like you." Then whispered, "I don't love you."

::Insert dagger in heart here:: I looked at him and said, "Denzel, I know you and I aren't getting along sometimes. You get frustrated because I tell you not to do something, and I get angry when you don't listen to me. But no matter how angry I get or how frustrated you get, we always love each other. Okay?" He looked at me and said, "k." I gave him a big hug and said goodnight, and that I loved him. Then I walked out.

I all but bawled when I walked out of his room. I didn't let him see how hurt I was, but that is maybe the deepest wound a person has ever inflicted on me. I think I could have let it bounce off easier if he said it in anger. If he had yelled that he hated me, somehow that would be more typical? But it wasn't that. He spoke his mind, and it was very matter of fact. He even whispered it. I came out and told Patrick what had happened, and how hurt I was. He went in there and talked to Denzel for a while. Then D came and said, "Mommy, I actually love you." I had to laugh because he says "actually" in every sentence these days, and this time it sounded particularly funny. We made up and were good for the night. And I still love my boy.

There's something incredible about the love between a mom and her child. And I feel like I got a glimpse, albeit very small glimpse, of how God feels when I don't love him. I kept thinking, "I do so much for him. I'd give my own life for that child. He has no idea how much he's hurting me right now." Of course the Lord knows what I'm feeling. Jesus already gave his life for me. And I still do my own thing. I still choose with my actions to say I actually don't love you.

Parenting is hard. And I wonder if God allows us to be parents to more fully understand the relationship He has with us. So I'll try to remember that the next time he kicks the soccer ball in the house and hits his brother--that if I could extend mercy to my son, as it's been done for me, we'd all be better off.

Faithful

I'm not sure why I've be blessed with remarkable people as friends. I really don't. I don't feel deserving of their friendship, because so much of the time I feel like I take and have basically nothing to give, nothing to even offer. My friend Gina is one of those remarkable people. This woman and her whole family reached out to us when we first moved to Lakewood. They brought us dinner, and our house was full of boxes. Her youngest and my oldest were in the same kids class at church, and I was immediately drawn to her beautiful spirit. So gentle, so authentic, so joyful. I really think that God's beauty has so consumed her life that she was actually more beautiful on the outside too. We got to know each other more and more, and I was so inspired by her steadfastness. We connected on other things too, like eating well, being well, essential oils, clothes, tacos :) Gina and her husband adopted all three of their girls, so of course we connected in that way since I worked in adoptions. Their stories were all so incredible--stories of faith, stories of God's provision poured out for the two of them. Well, Gina's story of God's provision isn't over.

A few months ago, Gina was diagnosed with breast cancer. When she told me, I was in shock. One of the healthiest people I know--she ran marathons, was fit, into the natural stuff--she had breast cancer. It didn't make any sense to me. I think my mind couldn't make sense of it, and only considered the "health" aspect because recently I've been so consumed with eating healthy, getting toxins out of our house, etc. But my assumptions, which were clearly wrong and ignorant, turned into deep sadness. Why cancer, Lord? Why Gina?

We had an incredible conversation before she went for her first week of treatment. After much research, prayer and seeking God's wisdom, Gina found a different path to pursue treatment of this cancer. Of course it isn't covered by insurance, but they were still going to do it--somehow, God would provide.

Gina travels every week to Arizona for her treatment. After a handful of days she travels back to be at home with her beautiful family. The weight of the travel each week, of feeling tired and fatigued, hair loss, etc. would be too much for anyone. Here's the remarkable part--in every struggle I have witnessed remarkable faith. In her small little body, the faith that moves mountains and heals, the faith that leads others back to God--that faith, oozes out of her. When I look at Gina, I see incredible endurance, strength and a steadfast spirit that praises the Lord, no matter the circumstance. That to me is utterly remarkable. And it's not that she hasn't cried, that she hasn't felt defeat, or like her body can't keep up 100% of the time. She's human. But hear me, her faith is awesome. 

I don't naturally have faith like that. I don't. When a crappy situation comes, my initial reaction is to be angry at God. To question His will, His intentions. But I am a learner, and Gina--whether she knows it or not (she will after I post this :) has taught me that God is good amidst the storm. I have grown a lot in the past couple of years, and my realization of that is tangible because I'm staring at that phrase "God is good" and I feel it in my body. God is good, period. I don't have answers for the struggles we face in this world. But dear Jesus, you. are. good. 

People have really come around the Reeves family to support them, but the thing they're needing right now is financial support. Check out her story here. God is good, and he will supply my beautiful friend and her family with all that they need. I believe that 100%. 

This song just came on my Pandora station, and wow, I think it so appropriate.

You are faithful, God you are faithful.

Thank you Lord, for this incredible person you've put in my life. And I thank you even more that her faith is so powerful, it has taught me and sparked the desire in me to be closer to You, Jesus. Heal your daughter, Gina. Refresh her spirit, bring sustaining energy and rest to her family. Love her precious little girls as they process this and walk through their own struggles in seeing their mommy fight for healing. Give Paul endurance, strength, wisdom, and love as he faithfully supports his wife. And Lord, may you continue to be praised. You are faithful. You are good. In Jesus name, Amen.

Remarkable

I've been in a really neat place recently. Not like Hawaii or anything. I mean, psychologically I've been in a very positive place. I've been incredibly grateful for most everything in my life recently. Almost like my eyes have been opened to how blessed I really am. And I hate the word blessed because it's so overused, but let's be honest, the word is absolutely appropriate when I talk about my husband.

I actually just googled blessed and the definition states "made holy." So appropriate to describe Patrick right now, made holy. There's something you should know about my husband--he is one of the most remarkable human beings I've had the honor of knowing. Seriously. He innately desires to grow as a person and in his own character...so he does. He pursues personal growth because he wants to. He enjoys keeping up with current events, and comes alive with making injustice right in the world. He loves our boys unlike any dad I've ever seen. I mean, he doesn't just parent how he was parented. That's what everyone does. Not him. Patrick does intense research on the best possible approach, and incorporates it almost daily. He has more patience that ANY single person I've ever known, hands down. Seriously, when I just can't be patient with kids anymore, he steps in, and it's like they get a clean slate and fresh perspective after mom is burned out. Recently, he's had a good amount of stress at work, and started bringing it home with him. We talked about it...okay...I told him about it...and rather than becoming defensive or resent me, he made a huge effort to change...immediately. This is no joke. Do you know how hard it is to just change? Boom. Just like that. We've been barely keeping our relationship afloat in these past...6 months, just with all the stress of work, having a new baby, managing two kids (which I swear, I could write a book about now!)--it's really been a lot for us both. And of course we spend very little time together, alone, without children. But we talked about how much we desire for that to change. And you know what? He's really the one that has changed, not me. He cares that much. For me, for our relationship, to change immediately. The last thing I'm thinking about is a little silly, but let's be honest, attractiveness is important. Patrick has been wearing his glasses again recently, and I think he's sexy. I don't know if I like men in glasses, or if they just compliment his face that much, all I know is he is particularly attractive these days, and I like it. So yeah, my husband needs a shout out. Because everyone needs to be affirmed in the strengths they posses. It just happens that I married a man with mostly strengths :)

I love you, Patrick, and thank you. Thank you for being remarkable and uniquely you.

As a mom...

As a mom

I love every dirty fingernail,
deformed toenail,
and pointy ears that prove you both belong to me

As a mom

I worry about you constantly
dream about what you'll be like daily
and beg time to slow down with each birthday

As a mom
I feel guilt when you eat fast food
Smile when you ask if green beans are a treat
And can't help but laugh when you say "I'm very full, can I have a cookie?"

As a mom
I'll happily put you before me
Wish I had more alone time with Daddy
But think about you constantly when you're gone

As a mom
I spend hours upon hours of research on the best education
for you
Ensure you empathize with others
And teach you to care for anything smaller than yourself

As a mom
I want nothing more than you to know God
See you grow up to be incredible men
And get anxious about thinking someday we won't live under the same roof

As a mom
I wonder what your story will be
Ponder who you're becoming

and am so encouraged with your character already

As a mom
I desire nothing more than you looking at me as you nurse
Feel at peace when I hold you, sleeping
Wish I could put the feeling in a jar to keep for later

As a mom
I want to protect you from the world
But know that's not how it works
and let you experience life

As a mom
I let you take risks
Even when everything in me shouts, "NO!"
Because that's how you grow

As a mom
I get frustrated when you don't listen
Sometimes I want to scream, or
Wish I could cry with you

As a mom
I will always love you
No matter the circumstance
Until the day I die

You both made me a mom. It's part of my identity now, and what an incredible blessing and honor it is to be your parent. I love you with all that's in me. That is where you started out, after all :)

~Mom

My life, then and now

Then:

1. Clean house

2. Quality activities for children that don't involve TV

3. Enjoy a nice meal at a hip new restaurant

4. Invite friends over for a lovely bottle of wine and specialty cheeses

5. On the weekends: in bed whenever I want, wake up whenever I want

6. Go see a musical, play, concert, show, really anything I want with Patrick, and whenever I want.

7. Stare lovingly into Patrick's eyes.

8. "Do" my hair (blow dry, curl w/curling iron, scrunch with product, half up, etc.)

9. Lay out to tan, talk with friends, enjoy the beach

10. No time to think about priorities in life

Now:

1. Make sure there's not so much dog hair on the floor that the baby will inhale and get lungs full of yellow lab fur. But some is okay.

2. Any activity that doesn't result in a trip to the ER is a good activity.

3. Make sure my 3 year old eats a full meal, there's enough room to nurse my 3 month old...wait, everyone's done and I haven't eaten? Eh, take my food to go.

4. "Daddy, can I smell your wine?" (Do we drink that much that my preschooler knows you smell wine before you drink it??! Not sure if I should be appalled, or proud.)

5. Put one kid to sleep at 7:30pm, then get up with him at 7:32pm because he has to go potty, then at 7:41pm he needs a drink of water, start dozing off at 8:30pm, put the other one down at 9pm when you realize you are both asleep now, go to the bathroom, start brushing your teeth, sing to the first one because he woke up and was afraid of the dark, climb into bed, nurse the second one because he faked you out and wasn't really ready to go down for the night, bring him into bed while he plays and looks at the fan and you fall asleep, put him back in bed at midnight, then you go back to bed...wake up at 6am to feed him again, put him back to bed, then you go back to bed...barely open your eyes and scream because your 3 year old is inches from your face and you were dead asleep...start the day with a heart attack at 7am.

6. Go see a Pentatonix concert that was planned weeks ago. Then plan your next date night for next year.

7. What color are his eyes again? "Hey hun, can you grab me another diaper?"

8. "Do" my hair (wash all the baby spit up out of it, brush, leave the house, air dry, forget about it until baby spits up again, or pulls a big chunk of hair out)

9. Sunblock the kids constantly, keep sand out of their mouths, eyes, ears...or not...go home and realize you didn't put sunblock on yourself, and get a nice tank top-shaped burn.

10. Relish every moment.

My life looks incredibly different right now, compared to what it was. But I actually have the time to enjoy what I've been blessed with. Some days its extremely hard, and emotionally taxing, but when I let go of the "perfect" life, I start to enjoy my messy one a whole lot more. And if you wanna know a secret...I think a little mess is good for everyone. Lucky for me, I was given a great big portion! :)

Sleep

Sleep. Probably the one thing that each of my family members is the worst at. Well, maybe I should clarify-we all have really "off" sleeping patterns and habits, and it's made our family dynamic...let's just say, less than stellar :) I just read an article from my USC alumni magazine about the sleep research they're heading up right now, and it became quite clear to me (again), that our approach to sleep needs to change, like, yesterday.

Me
Let's start with me, that's a great place to start. I'm a really light sleeper. It serves me well when taking care of my new little guy, because I can hear when he's wrestling around in bed next to me and wants to eat. I can get him up before his eyes are even opened, nurse him, and put him back to sleep instantly after he's done eating. And lucky for me, he typically sleeps through the night. Thank you Lord Jesus for that gift! Now, when Denzel wakes up at night, which is several times a night recently, my sleep is almost always disturbed. So being a light sleeper there is not so good. I also notice that the crack of light that comes in from my shade hits my eyes directly where I sleep if I'm on my right side. Something as small as a beam of light wakes me. My buzzing phone wakes me. My husband wakes me. The dog wakes me. Ev-ery-thing disturbs my sleep. Plus I'm guilty of screen time before bed-really bad for you.

Patrick
Next, we move on to Patrick. Patrick's sleep is about as bad as I've ever heard from anyone. He was recently diagnosed with two forms of sleep apnea. So not only does he struggle to sleep because of our children, he struggles because his airway is obstructed, or his brain literally does not tell his lungs to take in air. Scary right?! For as long as I've known him, he's been this way. I recall a few times, when we first met, when we would be cuddling on the couch, and I have my head on his chest ::insert your own aww here:: and he would stop breathing. Then all of a sudden, GASP! So he's had this a while. Only recently have we found out that's kind of a big deal. And thank goodness, we're working on taking care of that. As if he didn't already have a sleep disadvantage, his job requires his sleep to be so sporadic, that there's no hope for him ever having a "typical" nights' sleep. Recently he's been working out in the field more which means: early start time (3am and later), crazy end time (5pm, 6pm, overnight, to the next morning), and every Sunday he's gone out on a job that's overnight. It might be better if there was always a start time of 3am, but it's never consistent among jobs. It's always different, and sometimes even changes after the job has already begun, for various reasons. Wait, it gets better. He doesn't just work and go home. It's his family business that he pours his heart into, his time into, and that's a lot of weight that translates to poor sleep. Technology though, is constantly on at night with him. And I just read that screens really ruin your sleep if you're on them before bed.

Denzel
It took me a while to figure out where to start with this kid. His schedule has been off since the birth of his baby brother (and by off I just mean I'm pretty sure this is typical? I sure hope it is.) Denzel has gone through phases anywhere from one day to weeks and months of things that disturb his sleep. Instead of explain them all, I'll just list them...and probably cry or laugh after the list is complete...

-scared of the dark
-scared of monsters
-scared of ANYTHING you can think of (and things you'd never guess like talking-sometimes he asks us to whisper)
-potty training
-toys falling out of his bed wakes him
-he has bad dreams
-he wakes up several times at night
-he's hungry
-I'm pretty sure there were two growth spurts in the past 3 months
-he needs more water
-he hits his head on the wall, his bed, or a book, a hard toy
-he "hurts" himself, there's "blood" and he needs a "bandaid" (all in quotes because he says all that constantly, but is actually obsessed with bandaids-but most often doesn't need one)
-he wants to sleep somewhere other than his bed
-he typically takes several hours to fall asleep (usually in bed at 7:30, and doesn't fall asleep before 10pm most nights)

Holy cow, I'm just going to stop there. Denzel is definitely one of the bigger causes of the rest of us not sleeping. I hate to pin it on him, but he's a handful lately when it comes to sleep. The crazy thing is he wakes up like nothing happened. Oh child.

Emerson
After about 3 weeks old, Emerson was sleeping 6 hour stretches at night without eating, and then he'd wake every 2 hours or so after that. Every parents dream. But it's even better now. Okay...don't hate me if you've just had a kid...now, he has slept on a couple of occasions for 11+ hours at night. If it's pretty quiet and dark, he can fall asleep from 9pm (all the way up to 12am) and not wake up until 9am! One morning I nursed him around 6am and he didn't wake up until 10:45am! And of course he sleeps semi-randomly during the day, as any 3 month old does.

Kiri, the dog
Kiri sleeps pretty well, and she doesn't really cause any grief for the rest of us. Except on the occasion that she barks at something, or is barking in her sleep. She usually wakes someone up then. And it's usually Denzel. She's also a huge distraction for Denzel when he's scared, she sleeps in his room, then he plays with her.

So there you go, put 4 wackos in a house together with a dog that loves squirrels and you have an average of NO SLEEP.

But starting tonight, we implement the new sleeping plan. Here are the new rules, and I'm sure we'll make some more as we keep up with this:

1. All creatures go to bed by 10pm, no matter whether you are 26" tall or 5'9".
2. No screens at said bed time. No screens in bed AT ALL, except for setting alarms. Bed shall be thus forth, sacred space for closing the eyes.
3. Children shall be in bed by 8pm. I'd love to make it earlier but I'm being realistic.
4. Children shall not have any screen time in the afternoon.
5. Once a child is in bed, he stays in bed. The only exception is to go potty.

Last night we sort of tried this, and every rule was broken. Tonight mama is going to be firm on the rules. It's 9:04 and so far, so good...although there have been several requests for water...wish us luck!

Relationships and New Beginnings

A year ago, one of my dearest dearest friends passed away. He was so young, and losing him was devastating for me personally. But after going to his service and seeing all the lives he touched over the course of his lifetime, I became more and more contemplative about life. That event was pivotal in my growth as a person. You see, my life was go go go, rush here, be there, do this and that. But when he died, my world turned completely around. I slowed way down. I took time to feel, to think, to experience. His was the first death that I allowed myself to grieve in the way, and the time, and the space that I needed to grieve. And you know what? It was devastating, and yet so healthy. Healthy in the sense that I cried harder than I ever cried-but that was exactly what I needed. My body was in so much pain after his memorial service. You know how much your head hurts with a bad /headache? My whole body, each limb, each muscle felt like a headache. AND a massive headache of course. I took 5 Advil that night and was incredibly grateful after about 40 minutes when I felt a little relief. But it was okay to feel that, because I think for me it was necessary to the grief process.

I haven't been the same since then.

My priority on relationships has been present at the forefront of my mind. And with the birth of our second (and probably last) child, it's been an ever present thought that people are the only thing in this life that I care about. I don't want stuff, I don't want things, I want relationships. I want a hug from a friend that asks me how I'm doing with postpartum stuff, and doesn't judge when I tell her I today was too much for me. I want to pour into both of my kids, being present with them and valuing their uniqueness and beautiful God-given personalities. I want to care for people-my parents, grandparents, a friend who found out she has cancer. I want people. And I will not let the moment pass me by, only to regret that I never spent time with incredible people. Because the truth is, you think you're invincible, or you're young, and you don't expect to die until you're old. But, what if that's not the plan for your life? What if that's not the plan for your loved ones, your friends, your incredible partner...what if they won't live to the standard of 70 or 80 something? People matter. They matter a lot.

So I take a lot of time to think these days.

I think about how much I want my kids to know I love them--that I would give my life for them in a heartbeat. I think about how to approach the homeless differently, with more compassion and a deeper understanding. I think about how my messy house is more an indicator that we have a good time each day and are blessed with so much, instead of let it be a stressor...okay, that one I continue to work on...but you know what I mean. The truth is, I'm not good at small talk stuff. I think that's because I hate it. I hate the surface. I immediately desire to plunge to the depths of who a person is at their core, because that intrigues me. And there's nothing worse than, "Hey! How are you?" "Good! How are you?" "Good!" I hate it. And yet, I say it all the time. But my heart so deeply wants relationship. And when my heart is satisfied with that, wow does it feel incredible.

So what do I do with that? Well, so far the answer to that question has been to completely change my career to be more flexible with time. I'm making more room for people, because that's what I want so that's what I'm going to pursue. And while I'm only at the beginning of this new season, I can already see how God has been orchestrating the events to this point all along. Don't worry, there's more explanation of that to come. But for now I revel in the awesomeness of this God I serve, and how incredible it is that I can have a relationship with him. Super excited to see how that relationship will begin to transform in the coming months. To people, life's journey, and a God who models perfect relationship in so many ways.

Vay-cay!

My life this past week has been crazy. Actually, I take that back. It should have been crazy, but actually it was really nice. My parents came to CA to visit for the weekend, and it was my dad's first time meeting Emerson. At the last minute I found a friend to drive back to CA with me and my two boys (I love saying that :) so I drove back to AZ with my parents. No down time. Parents here in CA, then we leave together for AZ. I really had one purpose this trip: to make sure my grandparents meet Emerson before he's too big. And let's be honest, he was born too big, so time was not on our side :) Plus, I'm functioning more like a human being right now, so what other time can I just pick up and go to AZ whenever I want? Maternity leave of course! So I did. Spent a few days in AZ. OH! And both boys were AMAZINGLY good the entire way to AZ. There was one little "incident," but it was more like a fond memory :) We basically made one stop for lunch. Both myself and D ate lunch, then we both went to the bathroom. Grandma was holding E. Everyone enjoyed their Panda Express (although after eating healthy on a more consistent basis, I struggled a little with fast food), and we loaded up the car. I decided to feed E before we took off, so we all sat in the running car while I fed E. Burped him, put him back in his car seat. We didn't even leave the parking lot and D said he had to poop. For some reason, I thought it would be better if he used the little potty instead of driving back to Panda Express. Don't ask. So I took out the potty, undressed the lower half of my two year old, and sat him down on a potty in a parking lot...that was extremely humid and pretty dang hot. He was such a good sport. He went poop (which makes things more complicated than just peeing), and then I cleaned everything up, including the toddler. Finally got him back in the car all buckled up, and my mom said, "Umm, I'm pretty sure Emerson just pooped too." I unbuckle him and sure enough, baby poo everywhere. We're still in a parking lot, so I change him in the car. Of course there's no room anywhere so I change my 9 week old on the driver's seat. It's work to do that-just saying. Especially with him, because he's so big and requires more room. Anyway, we made due, and were on our way an hour and a half later. So it was a long stop, but we only stopped once more after that for gas, and both boys slept through the stop. They were A-MAZ-ING I tell you.

So AZ was wicked hot-for me, not for the record temperatures. It was less than 110 degrees the whole time I was there, and believe you me, that is a miracle for June and July. But I was sweltering. The moment I opened my car door, I remembered why we moved to CA. But I went for my grandparents, and they were so grateful I made the trip. I was glad I went too because they aren't getting any younger, and health concerns are getting a little iffy these days. Plus, everyone could use a baby to cheer up their spirits. I was so glad they got to meet him. I also had extra help since my brother, and mom, and dad were there. Plus, I had an opportunity to have a girls night with no kids. Well, as "no kids" as possible. My incredible friend Stefani treated me to a pedicure, then I went back to nurse Emerson. Then we left for Postino and enjoyed a little vino and delish food, just the two of us! It was amazing. Then I went back to nurse him again. I don't think I'd been away from my kids that long since before E was born. It was exactly what the doctor ordered! The very next day, we packed up, I picked up Stefani at her house, and we made the trek back to CA. She left her two children (one was in TX) with her in-laws the entire day, and drove back with me! Stefani, you get the friend of the year award!!!!!! So we drive and drive and make it to Blythe. Then we stop for lunch, do the whole potty charade with both, and we literally did not stop again. My kids are amazing at road trips. Well, either that or God was looking out for my sanity. I expected it to be WAY worse. So we made it home, and Stefani caught the last flight out on standby. What a pal. And we got to spend the day together. How lucky am I?!

This was the past Wednesday that we got back home. Thursday I repacked and got ready for Lake Arrowhead, where we were going to spend the weekend. Thankfully, the drive was much much less than it was to AZ. Although I laugh because we made 2 stops on this less than two-hour drive. Once for gas and to change a poopy diaper, then a second because E HAD to eat and was making it known to all people in the car. But we made it up the mountain and both kids went to bed pretty well. The whole time in Arrowhead we relaxed, took our time with everything, and just enjoyed one another's company. My vacations look very different these days. Now, it's mostly this: wake up, breakfast/getting ready routine, do an activity in the morning, lunch, nap, and sometimes a little something in the evening if nap didn't go too long. There isn't a lot of time to pack in activity the same way we did when little Joneses weren't in the picture. But I'm convinced there's just no other way to vacation when kids are little. It's not worth it to rush around everywhere and have crying and mess and screaming...no thanks. So we spent time together, went for a few walks/hikes, shared a few meals, and went into town. For the fourth we watched the fireworks in the best spot ever, near the lake. D only lasted 5 fireworks before he begged to go home (they were too loud). So Patrick walked him back (and said later he clung hard to him the entire walk home, poor guy). I stayed with Patrick's parents, and saw the incredible show. I love fireworks. There's something about fireworks that just make the world stop, and require you to focus on the simplicity, the beauty, and the wonder that is a firework. Maybe that's silly, but I truly LOVE fireworks. Especially a good show, and Lake Arrowhead does a fabulous firework show! We finished the show, then walked back to the house. It was E's first firework show, but he slept through the whole thing, so whatever :P This morning we packed up and headed back home-again, angelic children the whole way home. Lord, thank you for loving me specifically in that way this past week!

Sleeping in!

Goofy girl time!

Pedis

More silliness

D and grandma 

Hiking in Arrowhead

A couple of short hours after we got back, we went to a friend's house to watch the women's soccer game. WOW! What a game! Then we rushed home and Patrick headed out to his out of town job.

The past week has been glorious, but I'm pretty excited to be sleeping in my own bed tonight. What a precious time it's been with my family. I can't wait for the next little trip we do, because memories like this are near and dear to my heart.

Waaaaaaaah!

Let's talk about crying. Because my 2 year old is doing it right now, and I really want to join him.

I can't handle my child crying for more than like 30 seconds. My body becomes physically ill when my child cries. It's not quite as strong when it's another child, but still my body reacts-a physical reaction. This is not a statement of judgment, it's just a fact-I can't handle crying in a leave-it-alone kind of way.

You know what's really bad? Both of my children crying at the same time, and me being the only one around. Or another adult helping me, but they are unsuccessful in making one child stop crying. It makes me want to scream. On the inside it feels like I might explode. Like I want to scream at the top of my lungs. Not really out of anger, just out of I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! Is that an emotion?? And if the houses weren't so close together here, I actually might do that. But can you imagine the headline, "Foster care social worker's kids taken by DCFS." Yeah, that would be awesome.

I actually remember a moment a couple weeks back (when I felt a little more frazzled than I do today) when life was a tornado. Both kids crying, I hadn't slept in God knows how long, and I looked at Patrick--clearly at the end of my rope--and said, "This is why kids are in foster care." Now wait, before you start sending me your PPD drugs and numbers to a great therapist (I already have one, lol), hear me out. I have everything I need to be a "successful" parent. I have a job, a partner who is extremely involved as a parent-who also has a job, a house, a yard, a dog, food, clothes, happiness...it's all there. And I still feel like this. Imagine if the stress of having *only* two children was compounded by homelessness. Or unemployment. Or the feeling of being unsafe. What about being a victim of violence in your home? Can you imagine? I can't. I really can't.

It was in that moment after I said that to Patrick that I realized the power and the weight of what I just said. There was a huge shift in my heart in that moment. Instantly empathy poured out of me for all the parents that I've dealt with in the foster care system. I mean, I have to believe they're doing the best they know how. Are they frustrating to deal with? Ab-sol-ute-ly. No one likes being cussed out, or threatened. And it's pretty easy to think, "Well parent, you're upset, but you put yourself in this situation." But for me, I realized quickly that parenting is hard. It's fucking hard. Can I say that? You know it's true. Some put on a better face than others, and some are just dealing with a whole set of circumstances people like me (read: privileged, middle class) know nothing about. What I do know though, is that I have a whole new appreciation for the fellow parent-the drug user, the can't-keep-a-job, the has-thirteen-kids-because-it's-her-identity-now-and-maybe-she'll-be-able-to-keep-the-next-one...I can empathize with the fact that parenting is hard. But it can be done...with support. So maybe we just help one another up out of the depression. Maybe we tell one another, "You can do this" or "I'll watch your screaming kid for 30 minutes while you go grab some lunch by yourself," or "I'll clean your kitchen tomorrow." We need one another. And we certainly need each other in this parenting gig. So let's be less judgy and more empathetic toward the fellow parent. Let's help each other when the little ones are a little too much, and a lot when the teens go bananas. Parents...UNITE!

**I want to thank the friends and family who have specifically helped me as I start over in figuring out parenting with two instead of one. Some key people have been encouraging even just by saying, "I know you said you feel off, but you were acting very normal tonight," or "Tell me what I can do to help," or have made meals, have given hugs, told me to see my therapist again. EVERYTHING has helped me get through this rough patch day by day. All of it. Thank you, a million times thank you. And thank you for understanding that I need community-we need community-to thrive and live healthy lives. So blessed by you all.**

(Didn't realize I posted this under Patrick's profile. Sorry husband. You put up with a lot, but I won't make you take the fall for all this emotion :)

It's my turn

I love my child. I love them both. But I'm ready for something easy. Because the truth is, everything has been hard lately. It's hard for my back to catch a break when my kid demands to be held. It's hard to wake up when my eyes are closed. It's hard to sleep. It's hard not to yell, or cry, or just not care out of a feeling of just being overwhelmed. It's hard to not shower all day, having been thrown up on at least once every other hour, draw a bath, get in, only to have your baby cry 7 minutes later. It's hard to feel so isolated and disconnected from friends. It's hard to not snap at my husband. It's hard to pick between napping and cleaning something, anything, in this place I call a home. It's hard to nurse all day long. It's hard to see my husband go out as much as he wants and I'm limited in what I do for a myriad of reasons. It's hard to not be on a predictable schedule. It's hard to be creative with meals. It's hard to get my infant to sleep in the evening. It's hard to not neglect my 2.5 year old. It's hard to hear crying, again, from anyone. It's hard to figure out my work situation before my maternity leave is over. It's hard to figure out childcare. MY. LIFE. IS. HARD. So I'm ready for something easy. Please no cliches here. I know your life is hard too. I know we all struggle with a variety of obstacles, battles, whatever. I guess I'm just writing out my prayer tonight, because I'm tired. I'm emotional. And I want to be done with hard stuff. At least for a little bit. 

A Beautiful Disaster

Let me set the scene for you...

Patrick called around 4pm and said he couldn't pick up Denzel from school, and I had to go get him. There was an emergency at work and he had to stay really late tonight. I picked up Denzel, ordered a pizza, dinner was fabulous, both kids had jammies on. I can totally do this two kid thing.

Fast forward to bedtime. We had read 4 books...no 5, because Denzel is the king of negotiation and I just *have* to reward him for asking so nicely. I put Denzel down to bed, and it begins. He needs a drink of water, he is scared of the dark, he wants his rubber ducky, he wants to sleep on the couch, now he wants milk, his throat doesn't feel good, Moooooooooommmmmy....Mooooommmyy!! I ignored most of it, or gave explanations for why we don't drink a ton of liquids before bed, blah blah blah. But it went on and on and on. Also, Emerson, not quite 3 weeks yet, is usually fussy between 7pm and midnight. I don't know why, but he needs constant attention in a way that he doesn't at any other point during the day, or middle of the night for that matter. So it's getting later and later and later...we're going on 9:45pm, and we started going to bed at 7:30pm. Denzel is crying, so I'm holding Emerson and sat on Denzel's bed. I don't remember what happened in the 20 seconds between me sitting on his bed and the next moment, but all I remember is my head spinning, and both kids screaming their lungs out. Seriously. Seriously this happened. Emerson in my arms on the right side, frantic for something--milk? just wants to suck?? gassy??? only Lord knows, and Denzel sitting on my left screaming, "Mommy! I want you to hold me!!!" Denzel is sick, he's exhausted, and I'm not loving him the way he wants to be loved. I almost cried, and almost laughed at the same time. That was my emotion of What in the world am I supposed to do?! I only have two arms, and they can't help both kids right now. "Mommy, I need you to hold me!" So I looked at Denzel and said-not even in a frustrated way, just totally unaware of how to make this situation better, "How am I supposed to hold both of you? You're both crying." "Put Emerson down and hold me," he said through huge tears. My heart was breaking, but both kids were still needing Mommy. I remembered a friend said this was the hardest part of going from one to two kids-choosing who to give attention to when both need it. I sat there for a couple of seconds, then I put Emerson down on the bed and tried to pick up Denzel. It wasn't working, Emerson wailed even harder. So I put Emerson in a little baby rocker and gave him a pacifier, knowing he wouldn't keep it in more than a minute. I went back into Denzel's room and calmed him down. He was scared, he wanted to sleep in my bed, etc. etc. Somehow I explained to him that his bed is special because it's made just for him. He immediately snapped out of the crying and was totally into what I was saying. He said all those animals (stuffed) in his bed are special for him, and mommy and daddy's bed doesn't have that. The whole conversation turned around, but time was still ticking for pacifier man in the other room. "Hold me, Mom," he said so calmly. I picked up Denzel and said, "Okay, but only for 5 minutes" (with full intentions of it being 5 seconds-I know, that's terrible). I held Denzel in my arms and said, "Sweetheart, Mommy is doing her very best. Both you and Emerson will have to share me sometimes. Sometimes Emerson will have Mommy time, and sometimes you will, and I need you to be understanding...okay? But I will always love you. I love you very very much." "Okay Mom," he said, then we counted to 5 together (our 5 minutes). He got down on his own and climbed into bed. "I love you sweetheart."
"Now you go take care of Emerson, Mom."

Time stopped in that moment. I was shocked at what he said, and what that means for a 2 year old. He understood that I was trying, and after he had his need met for the shortest period of time, he was ready for me to take care of his baby brother. What a selfless act.

I could not have been more proud of my son. I could not have been more in awe of the beauty and love in him. He is two years old. Two.

I nursed Emerson for 15 minutes, then put him down for a second. I went back in Denzel's room to tuck him in. I put a big blanket on him, and kissed him. "I love you sweetheart." "I love you too, Mom," and he closed his eyes to go to sleep.

There's so much I want to teach my kids. But today, my 2 year old taught me what incredible love is. I really needed that perspective change in caring about others, loving, and being selfless. Thank you, Son, for teaching your Mommy what it means to think about others by putting yourself aside. I could not be more proud of you.

The Birth Story, Vol. 2

The newest member of our family has arrived. Emerson Xavier Jones was born on 4/25/15 at 12:58pm. We are all so in love with this little guy, and I find it amazing how he perfectly completes our family. So here is the story of how Emerson joined us:

Friday, April 24, 2015

I went to my scheduled OB appointment, and at that point was 3 days overdue. Not a big deal for me--I was overdue with Denzel so I was sort of expecting it with this little one. My doctor said he looked great, there was plenty of fluid still, but he wanted to measure him again. Got an ultrasound measurement, and the doctor kept saying what a large baby he was. But it wasn't in a joking way like every time before. He was genuinely concerned, and he's not one for scare tactics or getting worried. He's socially awkward, research-based, anything but outwardly emotional-my doctor, that is. He put in the measurements of baby's torso, femur, and head, and the ultrasound spit out this ungodly number: 11lbs. 11oz. I'm sorry, WHAT?! I'm very research-based when it comes to birth, Immunizations, and all things relating to my children. Everything I know about ultrasounds this late in pregnancy says they're highly inaccurate-and doc also confirmed this is true. But the worry just got worse. He started telling me that he's concerned about delivering this baby vaginally because of his size. He told me every risk in the book: shoulder dystocia , Erb's palsy, a clavicle break. He told me about every maneuver we could do to deliver a baby with shoulder dystocia and honestly the only one I remember in my emotional state was...ready for this...pushing the baby back in and doing an emergency c section. I'm sure there were others, but my mind only remembers that one. He talked to me about a myriad of other things, including death, but do you know what my decision maker was in the end? Rectal incontinence. Meaning I would no longer be in control of my own pooping. You have got to be kidding me!! See because tears that serious (from my large baby) would be a big deal. He said *if* I could even deliver vaginally I would be guaranteed some sort of tearing. That didn't scare me, the rectal incontinence did. I mean, for God's sakes I just barely turned 30! He said if he were making the choice, he would walk me across the street to the hospital and have the c-section that day. I was devastated. I started crying, in a tears-falling-only, quiet sort of way. Doc didn't know at all how to handle that so he said he would give me a minute and stepped out. I immediately started texting Patrick thru my tear-filled eyes. I could hardly see if what I was writing made any sense. I felt like my dream of VBACing was shattered, and this idea of a beautiful, natural, reasonable-amount-of-time-in-labor childbirth-the one I didn't get the first time-wasn't going to happen...again. The fight in me blew away with the gust of the door closing as my doctor left me alone, crying, and totally devastated. I have to stop for a moment just to say that my OB is a good doctor and a good man. I just recognize that he doesn't have the social ability to help me cope with what I was going through. I'm not bitter, and you shouldn't be either. He's not a bad person, his specialty is medicine. But what I was going thru was not something you deal with alone. I'm a social worker, a pregnant, emotional social worker. I could care less about statistics and the objectivity of medicine at that point. So a couple of minutes go by and he comes back in. He said, well, what do you want to do? I told him I have to talk it over with Patrick (who by that time was blowing up my phone with missed calls and texts) and want the weekend to think about it. He was pretty insistent about scheduling a c-section for Monday, and when I asked for Tuesday, he said canceling is far easier than setting up a time. I felt stuck. If this baby didn't come over the weekend, how was I going to cancel a c-section when the office is closed on the weekend. I felt so stuck, but still so devastated. I didn't fight it like I normally would have. 

He kind of motioned for me to follow him out of the room, and then went up to the front desk nurse and quietly said, "Will you schedule a c-section for her for Monday?" The nurse loudly said, "You want me to schedule an ELECTIVE c-section for Monday?" Bulls-eye. She hit my button and down went the tears. All the nurses just sort of looked at me. They didn't understand at all why I was crying. In their mind a c-section was a way better choice. Why deal with the pain? If that's your view on childbirth, great. It's not mine. Empathy is not pushing your own views on someone else. Its understanding what the other person values, and taking their perspective, regardless of what you believe. There is NO empathy in that office, particularly with those nurses (whom I loathe, and I could write a whole other post on). Not good people. So they went on and on, as I'm crying, about how at least I'll get my baby (as opposed to giving him away?!), and c-sections are way less painful (Recovery time? Complications of major surgery??). Then one nurse started telling me details of what time to be at the hospital, when to stop eating, blah blah. I heard nothing, so I asked her to write it down for me. Who's going to remember details in a moment like this, come on. This other nurse said, "Yeah she's in denial, better write everything down." Let's just take a moment of silence here for all the a-holes out there who verbally kick someone in the back **WHILE THEY ARE CRYING IN FRONT OF YOU** Truly heartless. Well jerk, if you knew anything you would know that denial is denying something. It's saying, "No, this isn't happening." My tears are indicating that I'm starting to accept it but I'm going through loss of what I had planned. So not only are you the most insensitive person I've met, you're clearly the dumbest. Moving on. 

So I walk out of the office, tears still running down my face, get in my car and start sobbing. Big sobbing. I called Patrick and could barely talk I was so upset. I was at a loss for what to think, what to do regarding c-section or trying for a VBAC, but one thing I was for sure- I was infuriated at those jerks some call nurses. Infuriated is a polite word for it. I'll try to keep my cussing to a minimum :) Patrick instantly said, "Do you want me to meet you somewhere? Where? I'll come to you." Somehow I made it home and he walked in. Water works again, and a rehash of the conversation I just had with the doctor. Patrick just listened, just reassured me that everything would be okay, and our baby is in no immediate danger so we don't have to make any decisions right now. I didn't like that answer-I wanted to figure out what we were going to do so I could be okay with our decision over time. You see, I need time to get used to an idea. It was that way with getting married, with changing my name, with deciding to get pregnant, with being pregnant the first time, with being a parent for the first time...it's who I am. If you want me on board, tell me your fabulous idea, give me some time to think it over and then I'll be 100% with you. 

We decided to "shelf" this decision and just go spend some alone time the two of us. We ate a delicious meal at a new restaurant we'd been wanting to try in Long Beach, then walked around Second street to have fun (and maybe start labor). I did a tiny bit of shopping, and we went to my favorite coffee place. I splurged and got a decaf dirty chai, Patrick got tea, and we shared a beautiful little raspberry tart. We sat outside on the patio, and just took in the scenery. It was a gorgeous day, and we had alone time-just the two of us. We talked a little about what to do about the birth again and came to the conclusion that we would let labor happen on its own but keep a very open mind after that point. That felt so much better to me than to schedule a c-section. At least that way I would feel like baby is ready to be born if labor happens on its own. Be flexible Andrea. Be flexible. That's what parenting is really all about. I enjoyed the rest of the afternoon with my love, then I went to pick up Denzel from school. I remember praying throughout the day, "Lord, what do I do? Tell me what to do about this. I don't want to be so stuck on this VBAC that I risk my baby's health or my own, but I don't want to just listen to medical advice if it doesn't feel right. What do I do. Give me wisdom." And you know the only response I got? "I will be with you." Doesn't that sound sweet? I will be with you. Well, not really. More frustrating than anything else (in my short-sidedness). "That's nice, Lord, I appreciate that you will be with me, I know that, I believe that...but tell me what to do." Didn't get any more than that though. 

Saturday, April 25, 2015

1:45am

I was literally kicked awake. Baby kicked me so hard I thought someone punched me, and then a pretty strong contraction followed. I was hopeful, but not anxious because I'd had contractions for literally a month on and off. Obviously none of them strong enough to start labor, although a few felt like they should have. Well, this was actually it. Contractions started five minutes apart, then quickly went to three. They were strong, and it was clear this labor was progressing much faster than Denzel (42 hours). Hallelujah! Amy, Patrick's sister was going to be my doula and she came over at some point. Don't ask me what time. She was soooooo helpful. Amy helped me relax more, massaged me, and was a presence and huge encouragement all the way. Patrick was also helpful...but he started cleaning :) ...I think he was gearing up to last another two days like was our first experience. Around 7am, Denzel woke up, and ate breakfast. Patrick got him ready and took him to his parents' house, then came back home. Amy and Patrick switched off being with me, and around 10? labor got serious. I was in the bathtub and just remember "this might be it." But it wasn't. Patrick asked me a couple of times if I wanted to stay home or go to the hospital. I think we finally decided to go around 11 or so. I also remember very specifically telling them both that if I get to the hospital and I'm dilated 8-9, I might let labor play out. If I'm only 5-6, I WILL be getting a c-section. They both said its fine, and helped me to the car. It probably took me 10 minutes to get in the car because I had to stop for every contraction. Then the car ride-always my favorite part...not. Is it just me, or is riding in the car torturous when you're in labor? 

We get to the hospital and they offer me a wheelchair. My instinct says walk so I try and get like ten steps in another ten minutes. Every other hospital employee offers a wheelchair and finally I take one. Again, sitting down, torturous. My eyes were closed the entire time but I was well aware of what was being said all around me, pillow in face trying to breathe thru each blasted contraction. Why isn't this baby coming now?? I get in a room and they ask for a pee sample. Are you f-ing kidding me?! This is not a doctors appointment. I'm in heavy labor. Check my cervix you wretched woman! These were only thoughts thankfully. So I say, no pee, and climb on the bed. They strap me to two monitors-why they pull those bands so tight I'll never know! Baby looks good-duh. Baby always looks good, it's me who's a hot mess. So she checks my cervix and I feel like it takes forever. FOR-E-VER. Have you done this before?! Finally I hear, "5-6 and the head is way up there." DONE. I'M DONE. I'M DONE I'M DONE I'M DONE. "I'd like a c-section please." Yes, I recall saying please. Patrick and Amy both look at me. They let me choose, and I did, and I told them I would. The nurse seemed a little confused because I just got there. Patrick explained about my doctors appointment the day before, and nurse wacko suddenly went into hyperactive mode. I wasn't sure if we were having an earthquake and she was panicking, or what was going on. Everything became, "I'm going to do paperwork later your in pain, I'm going to prep you!" Then like a flurry, she got my IV started, jammed a catheter in me (which later I recall being forcefully unnecessary), had me sign waivers-which again-really?! I get it's a legal thing, but geez. We were just waiting on the doctor, which wasn't going to be my doctor, his partner was on call. I asked when she'd be here-contractions still strong and still every minute or two apart. They kept saying she lives close. That's code for, she'll get here when she gets here. Finally doc walks in (during a contraction) and she's chipper. She's cheery. I want to punch her in the face. No happiness in this room, thanks. I made my decision, get this kid out. I recall feeling that way with Denzel too :) It's like, once you've crossed the line, you're attitude totally changes from "I can do this natural childbirth thing." to "Let's get down to business and get rid of these contractions." Finally they wheel me into the operating room, and attempt to do my spinal. Always difficult, not because of the needles (that is by far the easiest part of any of the process). It's difficult because I'm having contractions the entire time, and I can hardly sit on both butt cheeks (required for your spine to be straight, and the needles to go in). So I lean on nurse wacko, and the anesthesiologist explains every little thing he's doing. This is one situation where I actually don't need informed consent, dude. Just do it, and hurry up. Doctor on call comes in again to say hi in her cheery voice, but I was faced away from her. At this point, I haven't even seen the doctor that's going to slice me open. Meh. They put the spinal in and practically slam me down on the bed-I'm assuming they were afraid I'd go limp right away and they'd be left with deadweight to move. Patrick eventually comes in, and like he does, starts joking around with all the people in the operating room. But its okay now. I've got my spinal, can't feel any more contractions, I'm ready for baby. I make small talk with various people, including my doctor who decided to come in and assist ::ha ha:: See, he's a good guy. It was the weekend after all. 

So they get past a few fleshy layers, and Patrick tells me that when she broke the bag of waters it was like a geyser, going up above the sheet they set up in front of my face. I did remember her apologizing at the end to everyone she squirt-after Patrick told me the story it made perfect sense. Then I was told while they take the baby out it would feel like someone stepping on my chest. Ok, no biggie. So it did. And it kept going and going and going. I remember this being the quick part last time. I look at Patrick, who is watching the whole thing. "Is everything ok?" "Huh?" "Is everything ok? Why is it taking so long?" "It's fine." Later I find out the two doctors together had a really hard time getting him out. They used a vacuum and it just popped off. Then they couldn't get a hold of him, he was just too big and too wedged. 

Finally, FINALLY they got him out and took him to the warmer. Emerson was all cleaned off, and right in my sight which I appreciated. I said, "How big is he?" My doctor said, "That's the question we all want to know." Everyone kind of laughed. I said, "No one more than me!" After what seemed like forever, the numbers appeared, again where I could see...what was that...the nurse said, "11 pounds 13 ounces." "Are you sure your scale is right?!" I said. Again, everyone in the operating room sort of chuckled. Then we proceeded to talk for the next several minutes about how a non-gestational diabetes pregnancy resulted in an enormous baby! Particularly because Patrick and I are such large people ha ha. My doctor (remember socially awkward and sort of nerdy as far as research and that stuff goes) says with great satisfaction, "Oh good, I made a good recommendation." Then he talked to the other doctor about all the risks he informed me of, and the ones he was really concerned about. She agreed with him, and a couple of the attendants confirmed that I made the right choice to c-section. I knew I had. Somehow. 

Things started to slow down as they patched me up, and Patrick asked if Emerson could do skin to skin with me. The nurse said it was fine, and they put him on me...for a long time. I didn't get that with Denzel. It was amazing. I didn't even pay attention to what they were doing behind the curtain. Then they were about done, and Patrick asked if Emerson could be in recovery with me. The nurse was hesitant in a way that was like well, I've never done that before, but I have no reason to say no...and she said, "um, yeah I guess that's fine." Excellent! He really hasn't been away from me since :)


Recovery has been a little challenging, and life with two kids has been a little challenging. But I really feel incredibly grateful for my little family. It's amazing how you can look into the eyes of your children, and your spouse and think there is nothing better than this-this right here. No doubt we'll come across tough days and seasons in life. But in this very moment, I relish in the life that God has blessed me with. Welcome to the family, sweet Emerson :)



   

My love, part three (that's you!)

Emerson,

You made quite an entrance into this world as a 11lb. 13oz. baby! I still feel a little in shock about the whole thing. Since you've made your entrance, I've felt deeply drawn to your gentle spirit, your go with the flow attitude, and your snugly little loving body. Seriously, the way you curl up in my arms or on my chest-there is absolutely nothing better. Welcome to our family, my love. We love you more than words can express, and can't wait to see the man you will become. 

Love, Mom, Dad & Denzel

How I'd **like** things to go

We're expecting our new little guy any day now, most people know that, but I wanted to be clear about our attitude and expectations about this going in. It sounds sort of blunt and rude, but I really think that being clear about what we want is better than people getting their feelings hurt later. And if you read this and still get your feelings hurt...that's on you :)

My labor with Denzel was long and hard. Very very hard. 42 hours, and I ended up with an unwanted c-section. But it didn't end there. After recovery my heart rate wouldn't go back down so they thought I had a blood clot and spent DAYS testing me. You can read the story here if you'd like. It's not a normal story, but I think it taught me that you can have a beautiful, glorious pregnancy, and in the end being flexible is inevitable. Life with a child doesn't always go how you planned. Denzel taught me that from day one.

Anyhow, because of that experience, I'm sort of left with my ideal dream of natural childbirth, and then...the rest of the unknown. I have no fear about the unknown, Patrick and I will take things as they come, and I know God has our back. We have a huge community that will be praying, family and friends that are extremely supportive...I'm not worried at all. But I do want to sort of lay out what we'd like to see in this experience.

1. Giving birth is a moment that I want to share with my husband. I think it's intimate, personal, and I want to allow time and space for that. We plan to have birth helpers (doula, etc.), but in my mind those people are just there to assist in the process, and keep it sacred. They aren't there for themselves, they're there for us.

2. Immediately after the baby is born, Denzel will be the first person to meet his new brother. Now, if it's 2am, we plan to wait until he wakes up and eats breakfast. Or if he's going to bed or whatever, we aren't going to disturb him. But he will be the first to meet his brother. It's our new family, and he's a top priority. I want him to know that, I want him to feel special in meeting his brother, and I want to give him ample time without disruption. Denzel has made a gift for his brother, and his brother has "made" a gift for Denzel. This is their time, no one else's.

3. After Denzel is extended family and friends as time and energy allows. I plan (ha ha, we'll see how that goes), not to be in the hospital for long. So we probably won't have time to have all the visitors that want to come while we're in the hospital. (I'm actually okay with this by the way.) Please just be understanding.

4. When we get home, again, please be understanding if you ask to come visit and we don't answer right away, or say no, or suggest a different time. I've heard two kids is a game changer--that's just what I've heard. So don't be hurt if the visit is short. In the same regard, we may want some friend time after being with baby a bunch. We'll just sort of have to see.

5. I feel like this is probably an important thing to say, as people all feel different on this issue. I plan to breastfeed. It may not be in the other room. In fact, it probably won't be. And I may not use a cover. If that bothers you, don't look, or excuse yourself. I won't force you to be there if you feel uncomfortable, duh. And I won't think less of you either. But I openly nurse. So just know that.

6. This is actually a request of mine: please check in with Patrick. He will be every bit as involved in the birthing process as I am, aside from actually pushing :) I'm not exaggerating at all. In fact, he might even be doing more, as he coordinates all the friends and family, etc. Will you make sure he's ok? Just check in with him. Make sure he's taken care of. Maybe he just needs a cup of coffee, or a sandwich, or a shoulder rub. He might need you to go fill up the car with gas, or pick up Denzel from school, or get his pillow from home. Will you take care of him for me? Because he will be focusing on me and baby, and I want to make sure he's taken care of too.

Maybe this isn't necessary to say, I don't know...but with Denzel, I was neurotic about people holding him. NEUROTIC. It literally made me anxious...like, physically. I remember my grandparents holding him in the hospital and my mind immediately went to this place, "They're going to drop him, he's going to have a head trauma, he'll be developmentally impaired for the rest of his life, I'm going to resent my grandparents...etc. etc." Did you laugh? (I can laugh now), but this is not a joke. I LITERALLY went through that thought process in the hospital with every. single. person. Then when I was home I thought, "I have to let my parents and Patrick's parents hold the baby. He's their grandchild," and I could not walk out of the room. I had more anxiety than I've ever had, ever, and I'm not really prone to anxiety. Top that off with some latching issues, a little baby blues the first night home, and I was a hot mess. Looking back, I think our attachment time was interrupted because of my heart stuff in the hospital, and that's probably what contributed to my neuroticism. My mom confirmed that she saw this too, and so did Patrick, so it's not something I made up or am exaggerating about. Thankfully they didn't tell me they witnessed this until recently. Had they told me at the time I might have flipped. So, I guess I'm giving myself an out for the way I could potentially act?? HA! Lame right? But you just never know what the circumstance or hormones do to you. I would have never guessed to act like that in a million years. Hopefully this birth will be better...but if it isn't...don't take anything personal :) Give me 6 months to recuperate, and then we can laugh about it together :D

I want to thank you in advance for everyone who has shown so much love already. We've had several requests to send a quick note when labor begins so you can pray-thank you. Many people have already offered help of any kind, whenever we need it-thank you. Thank you, thank you. We're so excited to meet this little guy, and know that he'll be born into a huge community of support and love. Okay sweetheart, we're ready for you :)

Big love

Large life events have taught me a lot in...well...life. When I got married, I learned what it meant to put another before myself. I learned what good communication really meant, and how to accept incredible love from someone else. When I started my career in teaching I learned what it meant to pursue teaching life skills, not content. To encourage kids to think critically about the world, not just to follow directions because "that's what you're supposed to do." When I lost my friend to a tragic accident that in my mind still seems unfair, I learned that sometimes the greatest memory kept alive of that person is in your commitment to being the truest and best you possible. I also learned what real grief is. The kind that grabs you by the throat and squeezes so tight you think you'll never be able to breathe again. When I moved to California, I began to discover true authentic relationships. I discovered more of my adult self, and became painfully aware of the fact that I will not waste my time on things that are not of importance to me. When I had Denzel, I learned my inner strength. I learned what it meant to love outside of your being, and feel as though part of you was now in the outside world. I learned how much patience I can actually have, and how little sleep you can survive on. With the pregnancy of this second child, I've learned the importance of a positive outlook and attitude. How important that is for your and your child's well-being. I've learned what it means to be intentional, and to fight for the things that need to be fought for. 

Tonight though, I learned how beautiful and innocent a child's love can be. It is without expectation or reciprocity. It is without cause and needs no explanation. A child loves because it is in his very nature to do so. There are a lot of things I'd *like* to take credit for when it comes to Denzel. Like the way he uses his manners, or calls me out on my aggressive driving (true story). But tonight, I simply could not take credit for the innate beauty that showed itself. As we sat there reading a book, Denzel looked in my eyes, looked down at my belly and hugged him while I finished reading. "I love you, brother," were the only words that came out of his mouth. And I was in awe. 

They say pictures are worth a thousand words, but tonight, the true innocence I experienced was worth so much more than that. My precious baby boy, you are deeply loved by so many. But especially by your big brother. 

Just for today

Crisis averted! Tonight I almost had a nervous breakdown. Almost, being the key word. There were too many things piling up on my plate, and I wasn't able to digest any of it. In fact, even my digestion is having trouble these days! The most stressful thing though was this home study that I had to send to the family **tonight** to get to them before our visit on Friday, so they could look it over and make any necessary changes. With this home study, every time I open it up I find something else that needs to be added. It's been a nightmare. Particularly because their history requires a LOT of explanation and mitigation. If you don't speak home study, all that means is I had a deadline and there was more and more unforeseeable work that came up each time I worked on it. And of course, like the story always goes, the rest of the job doesn't ease up because you have one pressing project. If anything, more things come up (and they did today). So the time I set aside to complete this home study was taken by the other thing that took the rest of my afternoon. I was an hour, in traffic, away from Denzel, so I picked him up as school was closing. The daycare lady and I chatted about preschools, and Denzel didn't leave the toys right away-like every day. Traffic going home, nothing for dinner, went to grab something for dinner, waited in line FOREVER, finally came home and ate, and I almost broke. It was 7:30pm, D's bedtime, and we were just finishing dinner. Then Patrick called. I told him I'm stressed and can't handle anything anymore. Did I mention he's got a late night job tonight?! He said he would take Denzel to school tomorrow, even though he's working until midnight (or later), and I thanked him. Meanwhile, the home study still plagued my mind. At this point it's almost 8pm, Denzel is no where near being ready for bed, and I picked at my dinner while checking my email. Because someone who's stressed needs to check their email? I know, it's stupid. But exactly what needed to happen tonight. The family whose home study I was STRESSING out about is sick, and wanted to give me a heads up-in case I wanted to reschedule. #1: THANK YOU for thinking about pregnant me getting sick. I have some families that don't give me a heads up, and I show up at their house when ALL family members are hacking up a lung. THANK YOU for being considerate!! #2: Of course I'm going to reschedule!! And just like that, time stopped, I felt my cortisol levels drop, and my mind slowed to a normal pace. One single email changed the destiny of my night. I don't think that's an exaggeration. I was ready to be taken away on a 5150-a psych hold for those of you who don't know.

I know it sounds cliche, but I really get the sense that God knew something very very bad would have happened, had I not been relieved of...something, anything! But immediately...email...problem solved.

So tomorrow I'll deal with my food problems, my lack of appetite. Tomorrow I'll deal with feeling like I'm back in first trimester but now with a huge watermelon belly. Tomorrow I'll still have work to do, a kid to feed breakfast to, clothe, bathe, take care of. Tomorrow the dishes will still be there. And tomorrow I will figure out my game plan for childcare when the baby comes. Okay, maybe I won't accomplish all that tomorrow. But for today, I will try to sleep 8 hours and only be interrupted 3 times to pee. Today I will tuck my child in to bed and sing to him billions of times so he isn't scared. Today I will say, thank you Lord for taking care of me--sustaining me just enough for today.