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.

What I have to give

My precious little boy,

Life is hard work, my love. Very hard work. Sometimes you get to experience beauty, sometimes incredible joy. Sometimes you may feel intense sorrow, and sometimes you'll want to just throw in the towel. There is one guarantee though-life takes work.

I don't mean work as a job or career, although that's pretty much a necessity. I mean work as in effort, attitude and perseverance. And if I could give you one bit of encouragement it would be this-it's worth it. It's worth your effort--it's worth the work.

Right now you're tucked away snug in my belly, and you make your presence known...well, often throughout the day. I actually appreciate it, as much as it is painful sometimes, because at least I know you're okay. Lately, I've been thinking often of what you'll be like, what your personality will be, how different you'll be from your brother. I've also been thinking of how I can best prepare you for life. I won't lie to you, it's really hard sometimes. But I will do everything I can to make sure you do okay in life. You should know though, that at some point it's up to you. I can teach you, and train you, and love you with all that's in me. But at some point you'll have to do it on your own.

For now though, I'll give you all that I have. I will give you every ounce of love that I can muster. I will give you patience until I break, and then I'll go back and try again. I'll give you safety, comfort, a family that loves you beyond your little baby understanding. And I'll give you all of me. I'm not perfect by any means, but I try the very best I can. And I won't give up on you. No matter your struggle, no matter your hardship. I will always love you.

So when, or if, you read this later on, remember that the things you work the hardest for, those are usually the things that bring you the most joy and fulfillment. You are that to me my love. You are that to me.

Love,
Mom

Real Intimacy.

I've had an ongoing affair for years now, with God. I know it sounds weird to say that, but it's become very clear to me that I've treated God as an on again off again relationship. When things are on, they're amazing, and they're powerful. When things are off, I do what I want, go my own way, spend very little effort or time with the Lord. Maybe you've had a similar experience. But recently my soul has been crying out for more depth, more authenticity, more of the life-giving relationship, that I'm pretty sure I don't even know. I've been binging on junk food religion, and it hasn't necessarily been fully conscious. I know what to say, how to say it, I know what I'm supposed to do, who I'm supposed to hang out with, what I'm supposed to pray...but all of that has come to a dead end. I've been really into health lately, so forgive the analogies, but I've eaten myself into disease-faith wise. My soul has finally rejected my "religion" and my view of "God" and will only settle for the raw, real, and true God. I think I've come to a crossroads where the doctor basically says to you, well, you can continue doing what you're doing, and your organs will fail one by one. Or you can change your lifestyle, and you will slowly begin to see your health restored.

If you know me well, you know that God has put this incredible passion on my heart for women/girls who are survivors of sex trafficking. I sought out this purpose on my life which lead to a change in career, a change in perspective, and continues to be almost like this mystery that I don't fully understand yet. I'm not where I thought I would be in this work, but the journey has been mind-blowing to say the least. Hear me out, it has not been easy. I left the dream I had of being a teacher, lost some friends along the way that never fully understood my decision, and still find myself with God-given dreams but dead ends. So the dilemma is that I know for a fact, God put this drive in me for a reason-I mean...I didn't choose this of my own accord. But every time I come across an opportunity, it seems too perfect not to happen. It seems amazingly planned by God...and it falls. through. completely. This has happened on a large scale twice, and there have been lots of little let downs along the way. So as you can imagine, I became pretty jaded. Tired of it all. Just done. I mean, Lord, if you're not going to make it work, what do I care?

To complicate things even more, I'm having another child. It's really only complicated because I have literally no plan, no idea what's going to happen after the baby comes. Meaning, financially it is OUTRAGEOUS for us to send an infant to full-time childcare on our current take-home. So then maybe I work part time? But then who do we send to school? Denzel or baby? Or both? What days? And where? Denzel will be preschool age by the time baby comes, so we have to start looking for a place for him, be thinking about the vital bonding time with new baby, and make it all work out financially, for our family, oh yeah...and for mine and Patrick's relationship. I cannot tell you the source of stress this has been, and finally it clicked one day. I realized that this baby will probably be our last, and I'm so concerned about what's going to happen after he comes. It was literally making me sick. Then I felt guilty for being sick with him, I felt guilty for crying and being depressed with him. It was awful. So one day I just decided to ditch it all. I remember someone asking me later that day, "What is your plan after the baby comes?" I said, "I don't know. I literally have no clue." Those words were freedom to me. I don't know. It sounds kind of irresponsible, doesn't it? Like I'm a bad mom, or something. I might have agreed with you before. But today I say-you're wrong. I'm in a place of "there is NOTHING I can do about this right now" so I'm choosing to do nothing. Nothing but be in the moment. And you know what? I've found great peace in that. Incredible peace, in knowing that God will make it work out, somehow. I almost don't even care how. I only care that it will be worked out.

Moving a few steps forward...in this whole process of changing my lifestyle, my soul is crying out for real authenticity. For real community. Real relationship. For the real God. I'm getting rid of the bullshit-and seeking pure wholeness, restoration, and reorienting myself with who God really is. Actually, reorienting isn't really the right word. It's more like starting over, starting a new. It's like I got a divorce, and have decided to begin courting all over again-in hopes that I will find a different outcome and a different relationship. Well, so far I have.

I'm starting to fall in love with a God who loves me in my nakedness. You know that vulnerable time when you're seen with nothing to hide behind? No clothes, no makeup, nothing. And what I get back is overwhelming love. What I see in his eyes is only love. In all my flaws and imperfection, I'm seen as beautiful, as perfectly created. I'm beginning to know a God who wants less small talk, and wants more authentic relationship. It's no more about the "I should read the Bible" or "I know I need to pray more." It's now about the condition of my heart, how I surrender myself to him, and the truth in how I'm feeling.

Today I think was a starting point for this new relationship I have with God. And I can tell this is lasting. What we had before-well, I just wasn't committed. And while I went my own way, did my own thing, God waited patiently for me. He knew I'd come around though. So now I begin my life with a new love-one that I'd failed in the past-but that I get to start over again. I surrender now and give myself fully to the one who never wanted the other garbage to begin with. Here I am, raw, undone, and tired of the show. I'm ready for real intimacy. I'm ready for the real God.