A little smile

It must've been every hour. 

At 11:15pm I was falling asleep on the couch. 
Scarlette was still wiggling around in my arms
   which is why I was still awake. 

I started to fall asleep at 10:30pm.
Unusual for me since
the time change JUST happened and
I haven't adjusted to it. 
So...
I should've been wide awake for a few hours,
but I wasn't.
I was tired.

I decided to just take her to bed and see if she'd conk out.
She wiggled for another thirty minutes
wrestling against the pacifier
before she conked out.

One hour later she was ready for a snack.
One hour later she was ready for a snack.
One hour later she was ready for a snack.
One hour later she was ready for a snack.
One hour later she was ready for a snack.
One hour later she was ready for a snack.
One hour later she was ready for breakfast so
we moved to the couch.

My back was stiff and sore
   from being contorted during the in-betweens
      when I fell asleep nursing.

Not. Restful.

But she smiles.
I'm not mad at her.
She smiles and smiles and smiles.
Maybe it's a growth spurt. 
She's so sweet.

She loves the morning.
As soon as I set her in her seat she smiles:
mouth wide open,
eyes bright,
arms and legs reaching.
It draws out the sweet nectar of my soul.
Even after a night like that.

Spring picnic

Dale has had training all week which means his schedule is "normal" for one week of the entire year.

8-4
M-F 
I love it. 
I love "normal"
       in theory.

I didn't know it would be normal when I scheduled six appointments for this week. 
Actually I thought he'd be home for four of them... which sort of bombed on me, but we survived.

He had a normal lunchbreak all week and wanted to meet us for lunch of a couple of occassions, but we couldn't because I had scheduled six appointments, most of them during his break, unbeknownst to me.

Today I decided that if he did call, since we didn't have six appointments, we would hop in the car and drive to wherever he wanted to meet us.  Except that we're broke.  It would be fine if he and I were meeting for lunch because we're a cheap date, but all nine of us eating out-- even at McDonalds-- is a minimum of $35. 

So I got ahead of the game and made us a picnic to take with us
when we jumped in the car.
Maybe you remember that I'm not one of those.  
I don't have a picnic basket. 
I  used to have two
but I got rid of them when we moved
the fourth time.

Mac and cheese,
boxed.
generic.
Peanut butter and jelly,
ham and cheese,
and turkey and cheese,
on Great Value 100% Whole Wheat Bread.
Kitty Clover Nacho Chips,
pretzels,
peanut butter cookies,
and Peach Sweet Tea.

Tell me that doesn't give you crazy spring picnic fever!

Kennedy came in from the front yard and said, "Have you been outside?  It's beautiful!  There's this cool wind blowing..." 

To which I happily replied, "It's a good thing I'm making us a picnic."

Dale called just minutes later and we set up our meeting place.  He had concerns about it being too cool, the wind, and the bread.  I poopooed his concerns, made him a sandwich on homemade bread, and we loaded up.

To my surprise we arrived before he did and had a chance to set up the table so it'd be ready when he got there.

It was beautiful when we stepped our front door, but when we got out of the truck we were nearly blown over by blasts of cold air. 

I continued to set out food as if I didn't notice the wind picking up the car seat and carrying it fifteen feet across the selter area.  I smiled and spoke gently to the kids and they hovered and hopped around trying to keep warm.  When Dale got there we were just starting to pull out the sandwiches.  He sat graciously across from me at the picnic table with his jacket zipped and his hood shielding him from the hurricane going on around us, not saying a word. 

We managed to eat our lunch and get it cleaned up without anything significant blowing away, but it wasn't pleasant. 

I'm kind of a drag when it comes to being a "funtime" mom. 
I don't play at the park.
I don't push at the swings
     if the kid can pump his legs,
    or if a bigger kid is there to push in my stead.
I don't attend  the many picnics down the street in the churchyard.
I'm selfish that way.
I don't like inconvenience.

Say what you will about me, but this is how I am.

So when our picnic,
the picnic I dreamed up,
the picnic I lovingly prepared
  in secret,
when our picnic went south,
it confirmed something to me.
No matter how much effort goes in, it's never quite like I expect it to be.

The kids loved it. 
They played and ran and got blown over by the wind and yelled and chased little kids all over that place.
And in the end, isn't that what it's all about? 

Titus 2:4 "...train the younger women to love their husbands and children."

lvb

Six weeks and counting...

Backwards. 

We're counting backwards from the usual way that expression is used. 
Usually they say, "Ten seconds and counting: ten, nine, eight..."

What I mean is that I am six weeks from the day my life changed.
Fruitbasket  upset!!

Did you ever play that?  It's a great youth group game.  The kids are all labelled as a fruit, one person is in the middle of a circle of chairs.  That person calls the name of fruit or fruits and they change places.  If the person says "Fruitbasket upset," everyone scrambles for someone else's seat.  It's chaos.  Pure chaos.

My life isn't pure chaos, it just feels like it. 
Everytime I get into the car I am siezed with panic that I've forgotten one.
I count heads,
I count heads again,
then we go.
Still I worry.

There's a moment of panic everyday. 
Yesterday I was siezed with panic when one of them brought a bowl of thawed meat
into the living room
and dripped rancid blood
all over the carpet.
We just had our carpets cleaned.
a luxury we could not afford,
but after hosting church for sixish months, we desperately needed it.

I also panicked yesterday when the dogs ran into the basement with mud all over their feet.
You can imagine how obedient they were when I screamed, "STOP! STOP!"
They ran for cover
and so did the mud.

I was getting gas in the truck the other day and there was a big tag on the gas hose that said DIESEL.  WHAAAATWHAAAAAAT?????  DIESEL???? 

Carrying groceries in one day a few weeks ago
I broke the back window on our truck. 
Repairing it was another luxury we couldn't afford
but couldn't live without.

It triggered vehicle phobia.
I am phobic about causing some other high dollar vehicle crisis.

It wasn't diesel, just an ad.
Freaked me out.
I started to shake.

Does it still qualify as postpartum after the doctor absolves you of your pregnancy at the six week checkup?
And why don't they medicate for postpartum insanity?

I don't have baby blues. 
I'm not sad, just crying.
I'm not upset, just angry.

Insanity.

...turn away from it all like a blindman...

pressure
lvb

I'm not one of those.

You know the type. 

They have trendy shoes. 

No handprints on their pant legs. 

Their kids' clothes are folded in their drawers.

They have great hair.

Lipstick.

Hand sanitizer in thier purse.

I'm not one of those. 

Last night Scarlette woke up in the night with a snorty nose.  I dug through all the drawers in our room and the bathroom in search of the bulb syringe to no avail.  It wasn't impossible for her to nurse, but it was noisy.  I felt bad.  Every few minutes she had to stop and cough to keep from choking on the obstruction in her sweet little newborn nasal passage.  I thought about running out to the truck at three in the morning to see if it was in the diaper bag. 

source
Remember that part on "When a Man Loves a Woman" when Meg Ryan attempts to kick the booze on her own and carries the last bottle out to the trash bins only she chugs it before valiantly disposing of the bottle? When she goes back to the house she realizes she locked herself out and had to ring the doorbell to wake her already suspect husband to let her in.

I'm no drunk, but my husband already suspects that I am on the brink of insanity.  (I may be; it's hard to diagnose yourself.)  I can't risk an episode like that.  He might have me committed.  The other night I decided to get up and sit on the couch to nurse.  After I got out of bed, I stood in the middle of the bedroom for a few minutes trying to remember where I'd left my book.  Dale woke up and saw me standing there at two a.m.  You can imagine his confusion when he asked me what I was doing and I said, "Looking for that book."  It makes sense when you hear the whole story, but... I had to laugh.

Scarlette went back to sleep.
I kept thinking about that bulb syringe. 

I swore I'd never be one of those moms that lives in sweatpants.  This year Dale surprised me with a pair of sweatpants as a homecoming gift after the baby was born.  Since we're being honest here you should know that I have them in a rotation with another pair that I wear when they need to be washed.  It's humiliating to put on maternity clothes six weeks later with little hope of getting out of them, I guess.  Sweats are comfy and warm and don't have a belly pouch.  

I wore tennis shoes on our last date.  

When did comfort trump dignity?  I tell myself that my sister wears tennis shoes and still maintains her style, but I don't have her hair.  Or cute shirts with swans on them.  Or jeans without a belly pouch.  Or cute tennis shoes.  

At least we have dates. 

We sit with a seat between us so that there is room to spread out because it's more comfortable...

but we have dates.
Dates in tennis shoes. 

There are worse things
than not knowing where stuff is
and having a makeup budget of twelve dollars
a year.

lvb

I know it's obnoxious.

It's just that I heard this song on a movie and I fell in love.  I was fascinated.  Even a little addicted.

This rock star, dancing wildly inside the perimeters of all the other rock stars in the gig, was singing the soundtrack for this stay-at-home-in-sweatpants-mom's life. 

...mmmm ba da DEH...
Sure, I thought it was Ice, Ice Baby at first, but then when I realized that it was a whole new twist on that 90s mantra that we all used to do the running man to, I was hooked.

I immediately downloaded it and put it on my ipod so I could blast it through the house.  I have considered starting every morning with it.  It energizes me.  If I know what I have staring me in the face each day, and I accept it, I can do it. 

Six weeks ago I breathed focused forced air through excruciating contractions and then delivered a baby in a single push. I knew I HAD to do it.  I knew that if I just embraced the reality and handled each moment with concentrated resolve, it would be overwith faster.  And it was. 

The days when I refuse to accept the responsibility of my reality are the days I lie in bed and wish the light would never come.  It's no good.

I'm under pressure.  Pressure to have: a happy baby, educated children, a clean house, a hot meal on the table, clean laundry in the drawers, healthy food for my growing children, a balanced budget, justice between siblings, a thriving relationship with Jesus, a shrinking postpartum body, a gentle answer, and lipstick on when I go out of the house.  Sometimes it seems like too much.

But whenever I hear this song I feel better.  We're under pressure.  Me, you, David Bowie, even the guy from Queen was.  We're all in it together.  Let it ring from the mountain tops.

...pressure...

lvb 

So what had happened wuz...

So here's how it went down.  Saturday night Dale's parents were here for dinner, and all through dinner I have having contractions.  They were only coming about every hour so I figured, just like the weeks before, this would be another night just like the rest.

Around eleven o'clock, Dale and I were watching a movie and I had a couple of good, strong contractions about ten minutes apart.  I wasn't alarmed, but I was hopeful so I told Dale that we might need to start timing them.  With our history of labor Dale wasn't alarmed either, but went along with me thinking it was probably another false alarm just like every other night of that week when I mentioned that I had had a contraction.  I had been reading up on every possible method of self-induction so I did everything I had been doing everything I could to get labor started.  If this was it, I wanted to see to it that if this was it that it didn't stop.  I sat on the exercise ball, ran up and down the stairs, drank a big glass of water, and then sat on the couch to see if they had stopped.The doctor had told me after each of my recent appointments that if I had six contractions in an hour that I needed to call so when the hour was up and I had, had six strong contractions I decided it might be worth paying attention to. 

The wife of our church elder, Jenny, had agreed to go to the hospital with us in an effort to  help me get through this labor without pitocin or an epidural.  She has served as a doula several times so I called her first.  She said that it would be a good idea to drink some water, lie down on my left side, and to call her when the contractions were five minutes apart.  I did exactly that; I drank another glass of water and snuggled down on the couch with my timer in hand.  The next contraction came just a few minutes after I had settled in.  The next one was five minutes later and I started to tremor.  The next one was five minutes later and that's when I got up and decided to take a shower.  I knew from times past that if anything would slow or stop my contractions a hot shower would.  Dale got up and started packing himself a bag at that point.  We still weren't sure until I had a few more in the shower that hit hard and fast.  When I got out of the shower I told him this was it and that we needed to go.  He jumped in the shower while I called Jenny back to tell her we were leaving, called the hospital and finished packing my bag.

My girls were going to get up to let in our sitters so I ran up the stairs to let them know we were leaving.  I also was so excited just to tell them that this was the real deal!  I tried to whisper Kennedy's name so I wouldn't wake anyone else up but a contraction hit me and I dropped to the floor yelling her name.  Finally she woke up and said, "Mom!?"  I told her we were leaving and waited for it to pass before running back down the stairs to put my coat on.

It was snowing and close to midnight when we left the house.  The hospital was about 20 minutes away in good weather conditions.  I can't tell you how many people were on the road driving 30 mph and several were right smack in the middle of the highway.  That made us both nervous; we were praying frantically under our breath the whole time Dale blazed a trail down the icy road. 

In the car they were three minutes apart until we got into the city and they started coming two minutes apart.  I could feel the baby moving during each one of those and I told Dale so.  That's when he started to panic and missed the turn to the hospital.  Thankfully I was calm between contractions and the Lord gave us His mercy in getting us safely to the front door of the ER. 

Dale dropped me off at the door and parked the car.  When I got through the front door I had a hard contraction and got down on my hands and knees.  A woman in the lobby helped me into a wheelchair and took me to the registrars desk where they called for a nurse from the Maternity Ward to get us up there.  I wish you could've seen the look on their faces at the desk when I said, "This is my seventh baby.  I am ready to push.  Please get me up there!"  The girl behind the glass said, "Oh honey, I know it's bad.  I have four myself."  It was no consolation to me. 

We got to the right place and they had it all ready for me.  I was throwing clothes off as soon as they opened the door to my room.  All I could think about was getting into that bed.  It was like home base.  If I could just get into the bed it would all be over.  The nurses were moving so quickly in all directions and with each contraction I felt sure I would deliver before they managed to get the doctor called.  The nurse checked me first thing and I was nine cm dilated.  I told her I thought I needed to push with the next contraction and she assured me that I wasn't quite there. 

Within a few minutes I was settled into the bed with the monitors and the IV all connected and she checked me again.  I was ten cm and fully effaced.  The doctor came in right away and with the next contraction I pushed and out came a beautiful, perfect baby girl.  The nurse showed me later that we delivered eleven minutes after she turned on the monitor.  YEOW!!  I just sat there in shock.  They handed me this precious bundle and I just stared.  It all happened so fast that I couldn't believe it was really over. 

Here's what's interesting about all of this.  We were praying for some very specific things,  me and the girls at church.  We prayed for a speedy delivery, that I wouldn't need pitocin or an epidural, and that I wouldn't need an episiotomy.  For the first one, I started laboring just before 11pm and delivered at 1:09am.  In the past my contractions were erratic.  I'd have one strong contraction and one weak one.  They'd be three minutes and then five minutes and then ten and then two and usually peter off just when I thought we were getting close to the end which inevitably meant I'd have to start pitocin in the hospital.  Another thing that has been normal for me is the contractions would piggyback each other.  One would start and then back off just before another would hit hard.  Sometimes three would come before I had a chance to rest for the next one.  It was exhausting.  This time they started slowly, gradually got stronger and then backed off completely.  There was measured time between each one and I was able to breathe through them and then fully rest before the next one.  Once they started they didn't stop until the baby was born.  And as for the last one, I had been reading about some ways to avoid an episiotomy but studies had shown that once you tear and have scar tissue, the likelihood of avoiding it is nearly impossible.  I've torn or had an episiotomy six times prior.  This time, no tearing.  The Lord is good and His mercy endures forever.

I have to also credit some wisdom from a few women at church that not only encouraged me to drink Red Raspberry Leaf tea, but also stocked my pantry with it.  I started drinking it in the ninth month three times a day and it made a significant difference during labor and in my recovery.  Also I took a supplement called Evening Primrose Oil that is supposed to soften the cervix.  I can't say for certain that that did anything magical, but my labor and delivery were certainly a remarkable difference from the six previous ones! 

Scarlette Mercy was born at 1:09AM.  She weighed 7 lb 10 oz and was 19 1/2 in long.  She has coppery dark hair and blue eyes and the sweetest, most tolerable little cry.  I just adore her.  God has been good to me.

lvb 

Oh My Stars...

She must be one of mine.

this is the song that never ends....

We started with a tummy bug, then colds that were actually fever that actually was Influenza B.  And after seven people cycled through both of those- tummy bug eight- we started over with the stomach flu again!  WOOHOO! 

This is the flu that never ends,
it just goes on and on my friends...
Somebody started getting it, not knowing who it's from,
and then we kept on getting it forever
just because this is the flu that never ends...

I want to have the baby.  I mean, I go back and forth.  I want to wait until my family is not coughing or sniffling or vomitting or chilling or running to the toilet for other unmentionable reasons.  But part of me is sure that I'm ready now and that it could- it should- happen at any given second.

I'm crabby.  I want to be done with all of this.  I want to have a normal day-to-day routine that works and sticks.  I've never had that, but I want it.  Even when we aren't sick I don't have that, really.  But I think about having it and it'd be nice.

Deisha started potty training- oh--- maybe a month ago or more.  She would go days and days without an accident, until she had to poop and then she'd hide and let it go.  Now she's wetting her pants four, five, six times a day.  I want her to be potty trained.  I made this mistake with Kennedy and said I'd never do it again, but I am.  I'm forcing it.  She CAN stay dry, she just doesn't want to.

I gotta go.  There's no rest.  There's no escape.  I'm starting to lose it a little. 

lvb 

The List

I'm making SUCH great progress on my list that I decided to stop and give you a little update.  Don't get excited, no  px yet.  My room is occupied by a very sick dude right now so I can't get to my camera at present.  Soon I will, soon!

It's getting so close.  I'm having a baby soon.  A new life is coming into my world.  For so many of my pregnancies I have known what to expect.  I know that for a year, or so, I won't sleep more than a few hours at a time.  I will cry every day for most of that year; not sad tears, just random tears of varying emotions.  I will wear maternity clothes for part of it because I will not lose most of the baby weight until close to the end of that year.  In the meantime I will change hundreds and hundreds of diapers.  I will endure the all-encompassing chore of breastfeeding.  (Those first weeks are bad.... verrrrry bad for me.)  No one else will be able to comfort the baby like I will, which means my life will not be my own for a long, long time.  This has been the focus of the last few. 

This time I feel differently.  I have these amazing little lives coming into adulthood, slowly but surely, that are blossoming into individuals right before my eyes.  The potential for each of them is awe-inspiring.  I love it!  I love that God keeps blessing us with new life.  (Listen, I know I wrote something very different just days ago.  This is what is real today.)  God is good, soooo soooo good.  I feel at peace about what is to come; I no longer feel overwhelmed by all the changes coming.  I am ready to bring my baby home to partake in the goodness of the blessings of the Lord in our lives, and all the chaos and insanity that we add to that pot!

lvb 

Sickies

Writing more talking less...?  Hardly.

It's a lofty goal for month nine.

There is so much I want to do, and there are a million distractions that keep me from being functional. 

I have a houseful of sick kids today.  It's been a gradual progression of fallout.  One went down, then another, then two more... now all six feeling yucky, moaning, drinking Sprite, eating crackers.  The fevers are almost gone with the exception of the latecomers.  I'm ok, I don't mind taking a sick day from school in exchange for a marathon of movies.  The big kids are still considerate of overworking me and the little ones don't have the energy to ask for much.  It could be so much worse.  And I feel good- that helps.  Only, I'm a little concerned about being this close to my due date with so much infection floating around the house.  I may lock the kids in the basement for a few hours so I can air the house and disinfect everything. 

As far as being prepared for another baby, I could hardly be prepared.  I was lying in bed monitoring the coughing through the night and thinking about why I feel so  unprepared.  Honestly, the only thing you need for a new baby is a safe place for it to sleep and warm clothes.  Breastfeeding, check.  Diapers- they give you some at the hospital.  I've got clean sheets for the cosleeper and a carseat...  I am emotionally unprepared.  Each baby has come as a surprise, a gift.  The ones closer to the end of the line have also come with the shock factor.  With that I sort of deny the reality for the first few months, endure the pregnancy for the next few, and then convince myself that it's really happening at the end, thus coming to full preparedness.  With Deisha I woke up surprised to find a baby crying next to me for more than a few weeks every night.  This time I am sure it will be much the same.  I feel a little crazy for feeling this way and for saying it out loud.  I'm sure you think it should be old hat by this time, but it's just not.  It's new every time.  I'll have more help this time and more emotional support closeby. 

Here's my conclusion.  I love my life.  I don't like disruptions.  I struggle with change.  After moving for the 49th time and adding children every few years for the past 15 years, you'd think I'd accept it, but it's just not the way I am.  I will be elated to hold my new baby and bring it home to join my family.  It's the unknown that holds me back from fully embracing my circumstances.  I don't know how much my life will change, how much I'll have to take from one to give to another, how long I'll be hormonally hijacked from being my normal self. 

So that's where I'm at.  I really want to post some pictures, and I will.  After the list is done.  And the list is long.  But I will soon.  I even had Kennedy snap one belly shot for those of you that have asked.  Prepare yourself.  It's a little shocking. 

lvb