In Labor? Let's Go Eat!

Though I think most women when they are at the end of their first pregnancy would be anxious to get it over with, from the stories I have heard, I don't think my mom was. When she went into labor with me, instead of worrying about making it to the hospital, she went out to eat! No wonder I love Chinese food, because that's where she went. It's very hard for me to imagine this, the last thing I was worried about when I was in labor with my first child, was food. I just wanted to get checked into the hospital!! But knowing my mom, she is a much stronger woman then I am.
I have been reminded much throughout my life, that she was in labor with me for around 36 hours. A number I feared, since I have been told a woman takes after her mother when it comes to how long labor may last- and yes, my first was around 32 hours or so. I had an epidural, I am not sure if my mom did or not, but I know she had back labor. I was a pain in her back from the beginning!
As for breastfed or bottle fed, a very hot topic for moms now, I was bottle fed. My mom tried to breastfeed me, but it was too rough on her and she was in a lot of pain, so it didn't last long. And again, like mother, like daughter, I was unable to breastfeed for similar reasons.
For the short story of how I got my name, check out this post.

This is the 1st in a series of 12 posts to record my youth for my children at

WFMW: For the Splatter

When my daughter was first learning to feed herself, I rushed out to the store to buy a $15 splat mat to put under her high chair to spare as much of the carpet as possible from any stains her food may leave.

Honestly I wasn't very impressed by the overpriced piece of vinyl. It was never big enough to cover the range of my daughter's throwing arm. I often imagined I had a baseball star in the making for how far she managed to chuck the raviolis!

Now I know better, I need something, wider, longer, and cheaper!

For my son I went out and spent about a third of the money to get a vinyl tablecloth. It works wonderfully! I have more options in size, and it can still function as a tablecloth when I need it to (if I give it a good wipe down). It actually seems to even stay in place better since the underside isn't vinyl (at least on carpet). And I can choose the pattern and color I want as well, so it can match my decor or rotate with the seasons, if I feel the need for a change (or if I just get tired of looking at one particular design).

Tablecloth splat mats work for us! How do you keep your floors clean with toddlers pitching their food all over?

This post is linked to Works for Me Wednesday at We are THAT Family.

WFMW: Journaling for Our Children

It is so nice to know the things I try to teach Natalie do get through sometimes, at least the most important things.

As we were leaving for church one night last week, I looked up at the sky in which the sun was setting. It was a beautiful sight, pink and orange stripes ran across the sky from the horizon. I said, "Look at the pretty sky, Natalie!" and then she looked up and exclaimed, "Jesus painted the sky!"

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A few weeks ago Natalie had her blood pressure taken for the first time at the doctor's office. She did not like it, and now asks if she has to do that everytime we go to the doctor's....

Well as we went out to the car on our way to church a different night last week, I was holding Natalie's hand in the parking lot of our building. I gave her hand a little squeeze, and in a silly but curious way she asks, "Mommy, are you taking my hand pressure?"

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While I love sharing these funny and cute moments with everyone out in the bloggy world, I have decided to start a journal for each of my children- though Zachary isn't talking quite yet. I will record all the funny things they say and do, so not only I can look back on them when I need a laugh, but also so they can have a treasured keepsake someday to share with their own kids as they too discover the joys of parenting a child who speaks their mind- however silly or goofy the thoughts may be!! I already bought the cutest little journal for Natalie's cute words!

This works for us! How do you record these treasures for your own children?

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And if you are a sentimental sap like me and love that idea- you just may love recording your youth with Janna over at Mommy's Piggy Tales beginning October 7th! It will be a 12 week session (though you may write as often or not as you choose), and each week we will be sharing memories from a different age inour lives! Just think about having your story written out to share with your children and children's children!! What a great way to leave a legacy!! Check out one of my posts from the last session.

This post is linked to Works for Me Wednesday at We are THAT Family and
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WFMW: Tired of Snacking on Smashed Up Granola Bars?

I always find other moms using something in a different way then it is meant, but still making life easier for them, and think "Wow how creative and clever!"

I walk away wishing I had thought of that myself!

Well now it is my turn!! Even my husband has been pretty proud of me!

My problem: I throw granola bars, the soft kind, into my purse or the diaper bag, for a quick snack later. Sometimes later is a matter of days, sometimes weeks even, but I like to carry some with me for that moment when I need an extra pick me up, or the kids are getting hungry as I sit in traffic. BUT no matter how recently I added them to my bag, they get smashed by the ten million other things I 'need' to carry with me as well!
My solution: While cleaning up a few weeks ago, I picked up my husbands glasses case. It is one of the hard kind that snap shut. I looked at it more closely as a light just went on inside my head! It was the perfect size for my granola bars! I can even fit two of the kid's bars inside one, so I only have to carry around one to two of the cases (the extra for my own snack). I am quite pleased now to be able to pull out a bar for the kids and not have to carefully peel the sticky goop that used to be a granola bar off of the wrapper! YAY!!

Try it and tell me what you think! Do you have any other tips or tricks for totting snacks around for the tots without them getting smashed or demolishing them into crumbs?

This post is linked to Works for Me Wednesday at We are THAT Family.

I Will Meet You in Heaven Someday

Loss of any kind is difficult. It isn't something most can anticipate, and it is often hard to accept, especially when the wounds are still fresh.

Although my family picture only has 4 individuals in it, we are actually a family of 6. Two of my precious children went to meet the Lord before I even got a chance to meet them.

Jon and I had tried for about 8 months before conceiving our first child. That baby would have been due around July 10, 2005. I have tried to match a reason to my loss, but that early, there is just no way of knowing for certain. Was it the drive Jon and I made at 9 weeks, from one side of the country to the other? It was a stressful time, those days were the first I had ever been away from my home without the intention of soon returning. Still nothing happened to indicate any problems until 12 weeks, when some spotting and a panicked trip to the ER resulted in the tragic news that I would not be meeting my first baby here on this earth. What made it more difficult was the month that followed as I literally went through the birth pains as my body did what it was intended to in this situation. I wish there had been a way to know if I had a little boy or girl then. I wish I could've named them and given them a proper goodbye, but for some reason, the world doesn't hold these very young ones as actual babies, little souls once alive inside of their mommies. But I know I will meet this little one again someday in my heavenly home.
About three months later, I discovered I was pregnant with my Natalie, and a year after first feeling what birth pains were, I had my second baby in my arms.

I also want to share, I don't believe it is ever to early to share the news of a pregnancy with your friends and family. When I first discovered I was pregnant with my little one, I immediately shared our joyful news with our entire church, and much to the surprise of some, I was only 5 weeks along. I was told I should wait to tell others until I had 'made it through' the first trimester in case I lost the baby. Well I did lose that precious little one, but just as my friends rejoiced with me in the news of the pregnancy, they also were there to mourn with me the loss of my baby. If I hadn't shared, then no one would've known to pray for me. No one would've known to comfort and encourage me in my time of sadness. I have no regrets about sharing my news early.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. ~Romans 12:15

It was the week of Thanksgiving, and I started it with much gladness. On a whim I bought a pregnancy test on my way into work. I wasn't really late yet, but somehow I just felt like something was different. We weren't trying, though we weren't actively trying to prevent anything. Jon and Natalie were with me. It was a Monday night, and I was working childcare while Jon went to a men's bible study group. Before I clocked in, I ran to the bathroom with my digital test- I didn't want any questions in my mind, just a 'pregnant' or 'not pregnant' reading very clearly displayed in words. After a few minutes I emerged and gave Jon the exciting news before sharing it with my boss and good friend Angela. I was overjoyed, around July 26, 2008, I would have another little baby to call my own. Despite my first miscarriage, and careful concern while first pregnant with Natalie, I thought miscarrying was behind me, but I was wrong. I spent one night sharing the good news with all my friends and family back home, only to have to place the calls again with tears barely a week later. Thanksgiving day I began spotting, and spent most of the afternoon and early evening in the ER. All the doctors could tell me, despite a pregnancy test done at the clinic the day before confirming my pregnancy, was that now all tests were coming back inconclusive as to whether I was even pregnant or not. My heart fell, and given my experience, my hope was snuffed out. Sure enough over the long weekend, it was confirmed by my own body, which I felt betrayed by, that I was losing my third child. And though I realize now that I will still meet them someday in heaven, during my time of grief, I was not comforted by it because I still did not understand why once again I had lost my baby. Because God's ways are not our ways, and we can't always understand or see what good can come of it. That's when faith comes in.
And sure enough 7 months later, when we had committed to not trying to get pregnant in anticipation of our big move to Guam, God surprised us with a wonderful gift, in the form of a 4th pregnancy, my little boy, Zachary. And though I feared another miscarriage under the stress of another military move, this time overseas, Zachary stayed right where he belonged during our travels which happened again around 9 weeks along, all the way until well past his due date.

I still don't understand God's ways in the loss I suffered. But I do realize I wouldn't have either Natalie or Zachary if God hadn't called my other babies home so early. And I hope that maybe somehow, by sharing what I have been through it might bring peace and comfort to others who have suffered this type of loss as well. It is never easy to lose a child, no matter how early. Pregnancy is a time of rejoicing in a new life about to enter this world, and no one expects to have that cut short so quickly. But if we remember to look to God, and find our comfort in Him, knowing His plans for us are bigger then our own, we can find peace in our grief.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." ~Jesus, Matthew 5:4

"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways," declares the Lord. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways and My thoughts than your thoughts." ~Isaiah 55:8-9

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. ~Romans 8:28

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. ~2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Top Ten Tuesday: Rainy Day Fun

I actually love rainy days...as long as I don't need to go outside! I am mostly a 'homebody' anyway, so I prefer to be in the comforts of my own home except for the occasional itch to get out, especially if the kids are getting to rowdy for me inside! On Guam, we have 2 seasons, dry and rainy. I am not sure when the exact months outline each season, but right now and most of the end half of the year, it is wet! It makes it feel almost like fall to me if I stay inside and turn the AC down to a cool temperature and wear cozy socks on my feet. Of course as much as I would like to spend those days curled up in a blanket with a good book, the kids require other entertainment. So here is some rainy (or not so rainy) day fun:

1. Curl up with the kids and read to them. I enjoy finding a book that I can connect to some fun craft as well.

2. Bake cookies! My daughter loves to help by pouring ingredients in and mixing. And then of course her favorite part is helping to gobble them all up afterwards!! We even have an apron just for her.

3. Have an indoors picnic! I actually use an inexpensive vinyl tablecloth as a splat mat under my son's high chair, so I would just clean that off a little, lay it out in the middle of the living room and eat our lunch on the floor. I open the blinds too, so we feel like we are outside more, but we still stay dry!

4. We go to our local Aquarium, where we have a membership (so its free for us to go often)! Its called Underwater World, and most of it is this long tunnel of plexiglass, so you are actually walking through the huge tanks with all the fish, sharks, and sea turtles. I count this as a rainy day activity because we don't get wet, our parking garage at home is covered, and so it the one at Underwater World! So if I happen to have the car (one car family here), this is a good activity if we really need to get out, but don't want to drown in the downpour- seriously it can rain super hard here, but its still really warm and muggy so you don't really want to wear a raincoat to shield you, and with 2 young kids, the umbrella is hard to figure out and you only get wetter in the process!!

5. Movie time! I love movies and have a huge collection of children's and adult's movies. And we try to make it an event, with popcorn, and fruit smoothies, lights dimmed, and everyone cuddling on the couch (or in the bed, my daughter likes watching them in our room). Zachary is still too young for this though, so we save it for his nap time.

6. Creative crafts. I have a huge bin of craft materials I bought in the states for times just such as these! Some are kits, some are just random odds and ends to be really creative with. Though I am still working on just getting Zachary to figure out coloring and NOT eating the crayon!

7. Music video making. I love to sing, my daughter loves to sing, and my son...well he likes to make noise! So what could be better then pulling out any noise making toys or just pots and pans for him to bang on as Natalie and I belt out some tunes! Or sometimes we just put on some music and dance around! (Our favorites are songs by the Imagination Movers, its hard not to catch on to their fun and educational music!)

8. Build a fort. Oh how I LOVED building forts when I was a kid! I don't know a kid that doesn't like this, even Zachary gets pretty excited about it- then proceeds to accidentally pull it all down. But the beauty is, its never to difficult to rebuild, all you need are sheets or lightweight blankets, and chairs or other tall furniture and usually some weights to hold the sheet in place help too (think books or magazines, nothing breakable)!

9. Get dressed up! This one is a girl's all time favorite, but most young boys will join in for the fun as well! Zachary likes to try my shoes on and wear hats sometimes (just so he can pull them off and laugh as I put it right back on!). One day I hope to have more general neutral stuff for him too, like doctor outfit, police/fire man, train conductor, that sort of thing. For now its mostly dresses and necklaces and fairy wings for my daughter!

10. Go out in the rain...unless your children are made out of sugar and will melt (my daughter seems to think she is sometimes). Bundle up (assuming you aren't on Guam) the kids in their rain gear and let them go out and make mud pies, splash in a few puddles, and enjoy another day God has given us. The best thing about kids is that they are completely washable!! I do recommend dry warm clothes as soon as they are inside though- we don't want anyone to catch a cold after all!

This is linked to

Do You Suffer From Mommy Guilt?

Does anyone else suffer from Mommy Guilt?
It never ceases to amaze me the butterflies that disrupt my delicate stomach as I head out the door without any attachments. Just my purse, my keys, and me. Oh and of course don't forget those darn little fluttering bugs inside me!
My husband is a huge blessing to me. He is not one of those guys that for some reason thinks its the wife's job to tote the children around, regardless of a perfectly capable daddy sitting at home doing basically nothing. Note to the guys, if they are your kids its not considered babysitting for you to watch them, its just your job as the other half of the team that made them to also help with their care! So it shouldn't be necessary to get permission from you if we want to leave the house without the children occasionally. But as I already mentioned, I do NOT have one of those husbands.
My Jon is supportive of me going out for frivolous or fruitful excursions quite often. I think sometimes he even feels annoyed as I linger in the hall, reminding him one more time what to feed the kids, when they should be up from their naps, requesting if he has a chance and doesn't mind could he give the baby a quick bath. Then after stepping out the door, I turn right back around to come in and throw in the extra reminder that the diaper cream is right beside the diapers, so he should be sure to use it since the baby has a bad rash. Again I make it to the door, only to realize I actually forgot to grab my cell phone, you know just in case he has a question to ask me or if I remember something urgent to share with him, like that older sister should definitely have a glass of milk with her next meal, she needs the calcium after all.
Somehow I do eventually make it all the way down to the car and turn it on. The butterflies have turned to bowling balls by now, rolling around my insides, as I roll out of the parking lot. The heaviness usually stays with me until about half way through my outing, though I always have my phone well within reach and check it for a missed call often- though how I could miss one the way my hand hovers near it I don't know!
So why do I suffer from this 'mommy guilt' when I go out alone? Have I become so ingrained in the role of mommy that I don't know who I am without those little hands to hold? Motherhood has become so second nature to me that its like breathing, but take away my air and I begin to suffocate! My kids are like the air to me, I need them, I have given so much of myself to them, its hard to stand from all the holes inside of me when we aren't together. I feel lightheaded, the air is thin.
I know someday these feelings will change. I will grow as my children do and eventually I will have to let go. I will have to find myself again, not as a mommy, but as me.
Who was I before the kids? Someone I don't think I could ever be again, because motherhood has changed my life so drastically, but as with anything I have grown from it and I am stronger for it. But I will grow to worry less about them, to enjoy sleeping in without the internal alarm going off when I expect them up, without the constant clutter of toys or crumbs to clean from the floor. Of course by then, it will be new little hands to hold in my own worn and wrinkled hands, new crumbs to clean from the floor again as well as toys cluttering my living room.
But for now this is who I am. I am mommy, mother, mama, and mom. It's just another adventure God has set before me and I am excited for each challenge it presents, even learning to let go gradually as they grow and maybe someday the 'mommy guilt' will pass.

Zachary's Birth Story

Again I found myself with a hugely bloated belly and a week past my due date. I don't know what it is about my babies, but they were both big and both took their sweet time gracing us with their presence!
I had prayed hard that my baby boy would be different then my daughter and come early even. I particularly hoped he would be born a week early so that he would share his birthday with my sister Nicole, as well as my great Uncle Mike, and my great Grandma. It was a particularly sad time because my uncle had passed away the day before his birthday, so I was anxious for the joy my little guy could bring. But that week passed and Zachary continued to kick from within me.
Then the next weekend came and went, with my close friend who shared my due date now having a beautiful baby girl in her arms instead of her belly. I felt jealous as I impatiently waited for my turn. I continued to hear surprise from others that I hadn't 'popped' yet as I was even larger then I had been with my daughter- gee, thanks for pointing that out. Simple tasks like taking care of my older child truly became chores as my energy was diverted to just being able to move around with my expanded middle.
I went in for a check up just after my due date, and finally to schedule my induction. Unfortunately there were a lot of pregnant moms closing in on their due dates and in the tiny Guam Naval hospital there were only 3 labor and delivery rooms available. One always had to be kept open for that mom who would spontaneously go into labor, apparently some babies do come out in their own time! So I was left with the earliest date available, a week and a half after my due date- which by the way we were positive of because I knew when we had conceived our surprise baby since we had only had the chance to be intimate once in all the stress surrounding out move to Guam. I have since gotten over this, but at the time I was devastated that of all the dates, I was now scheduled to have my baby on one of my 3 sisters birthdays, the one I least got along with. In the past year I like to think things have improved between us, but at the time of Zachary's birth we still fought like cats and dogs! I did NOT want my child to share her birthday!
Jon and I tried everything we could think of in the week and half leading up to my scheduled induction to get labor to happen naturally. I took Evening Primrose oil, we spent lots of awkward moments in bed attempting my husband's favorite method to induce labor, and I walked, A LOT. Even the doctor's had begun 'stripping my membranes', a very pain process, a month before my due date. But Zachary was not about to budge.
With my daughter, I had had the typical fears of a first time mom going into childbirth. I didn't know what to expect then, but I did now, at least when it came to labor itself, unaided. Now my fear was of the hard and intense labor pitocin would bring on, that could potentially lead to a c-section if my body didn't respond properly by dilating and effacing. I had been only barely 2 cm for the past month with no effacement- with my daughter it was the same 2 cm that haunted me for a month though then I was more hopeful because I was also effaced almost completely the last month as well.

The night before I would meet my son I did not get a wink of sleep. Our wonderful new friends from church were kind enough to have Natalie come over that night instead of worrying about dealing with her as we prepared to be at the hospital around 6 am. With maybe 3-4 hours sleep, I woke up and watched the clock count down to 5 am, when I had been told to call and check that there was room for me to come in. Each day they scheduled 2 woman to be induced, but if others had come in, rooms would get filled and there may have been room for only one or neither of us, but I was determined to be the first to call in that case. And thankfully I was told to go ahead and come in.
We waited down the hall, me on the edge of the seat, barely able to sit still, as they prepared my room. I was so anxious and nervous I hadn't eaten anything before we left, something I quickly regretted! Once I was hooked up to the monitors, and the IV in, it was a waiting game until the doctor arrived around 7:30. The nurse had already advised me that I was only allowed 'easy' foods, like jello or popsicles- as long as they weren't a shade of red. Of course there was nothing close to that available in either the hospital or the mini mart beside it.
After the doctor arrived and came in to tell me what was going to happen, the pitocin was started at around 8. It didn't hit as hard as I expected, it sort of came on gradually. My husband patiently waited at my bedside, looking tired from the lack of sleep he too had suffered. I remember asking him over and over in between my building contractions "Are you okay?". What a turn around from how irritated I remember feeling with him during my daughter's birth! At some point he finally asked why I was so worried about him when I was the one in pain. But I continued to be overly concerned with his state for some reason and every time I heard him sigh or yawn, again I inquired of him how he was feeling.
The doctor came in to break my water around 11 am. I was around 5 cm, and had been checked regularly by the nurse, though with very slow progress. It felt so strange to have my water broken by hand. With my daughter it hadn't happened until after I was enjoying my epidural, so I could only barely recognize the gush of fluids. This time the doctor, sitting on the edge of my bed, talking casually to me as if having this conversation over coffee, had to keep pushing around to get all the fluids out, and they just kept coming. He even noted it was a lot more then usual, as I felt a little hope that my huge belly had just meant lots of fluids verses the possibility of a big baby. The demeanor of my doctor was so casual, which honestly made it all the more awkward for me. He wasn't just my doctor, he was a regular attender of my church. I wouldn't just see him for appointments and have a purely clinical view of him, I knew him personally- though we never saw each other socially really- and he knew me a little too much if you know what I mean! I value my modesty, and this was definitely not making me feel very modest.
He advised me to hold off on my epidural for as long as I could stand to. He said it would be its strongest at the beginning and fade by the time actual pushing began if I got it too early. But being the wimp I am, 45 minutes later I was begging for it! Out of nowhere the contractions had gotten very intense, and I didn't want to wait anymore, I didn't understand how the epidural would 'fade' when with my first child it had been in for hours and hours before I had my baby.
I was much more informed though this time, that much was true. With my daughter no one had sat down to tell me how things would happen. Now though both my doctor had explained to me all about the different possibilities that could happen, and then the anesthesiologist had come in to tell me exactly what he would be doing. I wasn't really thrilled with this, I just wanted to move on. When the anesthesiologist had finished explaining he asked if I had any questions, I was very quick with me 'no', though Jon had piped up to some unimportant curiosity of his own to ask. I just remember looking at him and saying "I will tell you if you have any questions- and NO you don't!!" After all, it was happening to me, and I wanted that epidural that moment. That was the only time I was even a little unkind to Jon during Zachary's birth, and I quickly went back to being concerned about his well-being over mine as I laid in the hospital bed. It was even easier after the epidural.
This time the epidural was not nearly as strong. I could still feel the contractions though very mildly. The next few hours passed quickly, though I was starving the entire time. I honestly was having trouble thinking of anything else. Unfortunately when the doctor had arrived that morning I had been told I could only have ice chips, but as I was so desperately hungry and wasn't sure how much longer this labor would last, around 3 pm, Jon was ready to head down to the nearest grocery store to grab me some jello. I was hesitant about him leaving, worried the minute he was gone things would start happening fast, so I asked the nurse to check my cervix before he went. She was in on it, and knew where he was going and was playing dumb about it so I could have a little food in my belly. But as she checked my cervix, we discovered I was 9 cm. It was time to call the doctor in. It didn't take long for me to hit the 10 cm mark, and once I did I felt the oddest sensation. With my daughter, as numb as I was I had never experienced the feeling of needing to push. I pushed when I was told that time, but now I had the strongest urge to push very hard. The nurse asked me to wait- she must've never given birth, there was no holding it in! The best I could do was not put all my effort into the push that was coming like I was stuck on auto pilot. My body wouldn't give me an alternative. Luckily the doctor didn't take long and I was allowed to unleash the full force I had been longing to put behind the uncontrollable urge to push.
It was almost 4 in the afternoon, and I was excited and filled with anticipation. Despite the mild pain I was feeling, I was actually enjoying childbirth! I also, even in the heat of the moment, continued plaguing Jon with my questions about how he was doing, how funny I must've sounded to the doctor and nurses! I think I was beginning to irritate him honestly.
The baby's head was almost out, but according the monitors with each push his heart rate was dipping just a little. And my blood pressure was on the lower end. So with both of us in mind, not wanting anything to get worse, the doctor pulled out the forceps. He assured me we weren't in danger, he just didn't want it to get to that point. So with the help of forceps and one big push from me, my son was born at exactly 4 pm, weighing 9 lbs, 10 ozs and 21 1/2 inches long.
So much was happening all at once. I remember asking if he was okay because unlike his sister, Zachary had not come out screaming. The doctor assured me he was fine, he even scored an 8 & 9 on his APGAR (same as his sister) though I never remember him crying very much. As soon as he was out, Jon pulled out the 2 bags of cookies I had packed and I quickly devoured them. I felt awful. My son was just born but all I really was worried about was food!!
After my hunger was satisfied, I couldn't take my eyes off my boy. He looked exactly like Natalie, and I felt much more of the love I had expected then verses when Natalie was born- another fact that plagues me with guilt. And while Natalie had barely even opened her eyes in the first day of her life, Zachary was wide-eyed and taking it all in. Even now, he is my little curious George, my observer and doer.

*Note- for those who read Natalie's birth story and are wondering- yes this time they waited to stop the epidural until after they stitched up my minor tearing- not even a first degree tear. And I could only feel the tugging of the needle, not the needle itself, thank goodness!!*

Natalie's Birth Story

It was almost a week past my due date. I was carrying a bowling ball around my waist that seemed like it would never stop expanding. My skin was stretched further then I ever imagined possible, then tested time and time again as my growing daughter did somersaults inside me to try and break through my belly- or so it felt AND looked by my distorted midsection.
The anticipation was building as butterflies joined the baby in my tummy. I was going to meet my daughter, who had shared my body with me for the last 9 months sometime in the next few days. I was scheduled to be induced in two days, finally, officially in the home stretch. As I slept uneasily that night, anxious for the next day to pass quickly, yet also apprehensive of the new adventure I was about to enter in life, I awoke at around 3 am having minor contractions I assumed were braxton hicks, though they still felt different somehow. I had been stressing over the thought of going into labor and not being able to recognize it until it was too close- wouldn't that have been nice! I tried my best to go back to sleep though, after timing these new contractions and not finding a regular pattern. One would come within 8 minutes of another, then the next would be 20 minutes later. But they continued to plague me throughout the next day.



Around 4 pm, I started finding a more regular pattern in them. Every 8 minutes my stomach would get rock hard, and painful- though nothing compared to what was coming. Despite knowing my own mother had been in labor for over 20 hours with all 4 of her children- me being the first and longest at 36 hours I believe- I was anxious to get to the hospital. To get to the Navy hospital where I was supposed to give birth you had to go through a tunnel in the downtown area of a major city. It was not unusual for this tunnel to be seriously backed up for hours beginning at around this time of evening, as everyone rushed home after work. I had images of giving birth in the car in the dark tunnel, surrounded by commuters, on a continuous loop running through my mind. I was terrified if things did happen quickly I would not make it all the way there, so I insisted that we immediately rush to the hospital for them to verify it as official labor and maybe admit me if they weren't too busy. Of course it was actual labor, finally, and as I feared, they were very busy, so at only 2cm- which I had been at for a month- I was sent home where I could be more comfortable. Though comfortable was the farthest thing from what I felt by then.
By bedtime the contractions had still not gotten any closer together, though the intensity in which they were coming seemed to be at its peak. I longed for the drugs I had earlier decided to attempt to go without, though my heart was never fully in it. I knew I would cave at the slightest suggestion of pain- and so I did! We headed back to the hospital, our 2nd trip. Jon kept trying to offer me his hand to squeeze as he drove and I sat doubled over- sort of, anyway, hard to be doubled over around a belly that big. I just snapped at him in between focusing on my breathing that if I wanted his hand I would've asked for it. I think that was the only time I actually got mad at him through the whole thing. Again though, we arrived at the hospital and Jon wheeled me up to the maternity ward. I hated more then anything sitting in the waiting room in excruciating pain with a room full of witnesses. I tried hard to hide what I was feeling, but it was difficult. We finally were put in a triage room to be checked on, only to find my cervix still having made no progress. Our 2nd trip was another bust. We were sent home with ambien to help me sleep, though in the process of getting it I found myself again waiting with an audience in the pharmacy, which for about 10 minutes went into a fire lock down. I was completely in panic mode as the ends of the pharmacy area sealed up, all the windows closed and we were stuck waiting for the situation to end. It only took 10 minutes, though that seemed like an eternity to me as my contractions inched towards 6 minutes in frequency, lasting for a good 30 seconds each time. Finally we were on our way back home with something to help me sleep.
Of course after taking the ambien and Tylenol with codeine (yes, doctor prescribed), I quickly realized that the doctor who had prescribed these must not have heard I was in labor. I felt only mildly sleepy and in no less pain then before. I think it would've taken a horse tranquilizer to get me to fall asleep with those contractions! We didn't even stay home a full hour before heading back for a 3rd trip, to the hospital I was beginning to resent. After another stint in the waiting room, my cervix was checked for the third time that night at around 11 pm. I had made it to 3 cm, and my contractions were coming fast and hard at 3 minutes apart. I thought for sure I will be admitted now! And again I was reminded how very busy they were and told to go home! I was livid, I was in the most pain I ever thought possible, contractions coming on top of each other and because I was only 3 cm I was going home?! How was I supposed to tell when I was dilating more from home? My contractions couldn't get very much closer together then they already were, how was I going to know when to come in?
For another few hours at home, my husband, feeling exhausted and helpless, ran around doing anything I barked at him as I attempted to find a comfortable spot on the couch- as if that were even possible! Around 2 am I had had enough and we went back in feeling very heavy hearted that again we would be turned away. At the hospital though, the same nurse who had checked me twice that night already, took pity on me. Since I was scheduled to be induced in another 6 hrs anyway, she finally admitted me. By 3 am I was in my hospital bed in labor and delivery with IVs in my hands, and some drugs running through them. I was told they would keep the edge off, and I hoped it to be true since I feared the thought of an epidural. I hate needles. From what I had been told an epidural requires a large needle very strategically placed into a precise point in your back as you hold still. I was in fear of not only the needle, but not being able to hold still for it and having something go wrong. Unfortunately the drugs that were to 'take the edge off' helped very little and I decided to get the epidural. I was more scared of the pain getting worse then anything else right then. And honestly as I prepared for it, I never saw the needle, and barely felt it all go in. It wasn't hard to sit still, rolled over my belly like that, in fact it was somewhat comfortable, and Jon stood in front of me to hold me steady just in case. Once in, I felt awesome! And I finally managed to get that few hours of sleep, nodding off to one of the movies we had packed- What Lies Beneath.



By the time I woke up it was nearing 8 am. Though I could see all the contractions on the monitor, I felt nothing. In fact I felt too much nothing! When the doctor had given me the epidural he had showed me how to push the button if I needed more, though I hadn't had to use it, he also said it should keep me numb from my waist down. But I was numb all the way up to my chest!! I could feel the weight of my arms as the, apparently too high, dose spread! I paged the nurse who came in and misunderstanding me, pushed the button to give me more before the doctor happened to be walking in to check on it. I told him how numb I was and he adjusted the level as I regained some feeling back in my chest. The nurse helped flip flop my legs and left behind him, without having checked anything 'down there'. I don't remember clearly when they popped my water sack, though I know they did, I think it was sometime after the epidural was in place, but that was around the last time they had checked my cervix as well.
An hour later I was feeling impatient. It had been hours since the last time someone had checked my cervix to see how things were moving. I didn't want to spend any longer laying there bored and waiting. I called the nurse in, it was almost 9 am. She checked on the monitors and all the routine stuff and was about to walk out when I asked if she would check my cervix. "I suppose we could do that," she answered so casually, like it wasn't a huge deal!! Sure enough she reached down to find I was a full 10 cm and the baby's head was right there, crowning and ready for me to push!! The nurse called the midwife in and while we waited she had me begin pushing. Jon was on one side holding my leg and the nurse was on the other. My first push, I actually kicked her pretty hard accidentally in my efforts to push as hard as possible- though subconsciously maybe it was my little revenge at her casual attitude about everything!



Not even a full hour later, among many more pushes my daughter's head was almost all the way through with a head full of hair. I remember being asked at that point if I wanted them to put up a mirror so I could watch and I nearly shouted "NO!!" at the same moment the midwife asked if I wanted to feel the baby's head. I didn't answer, I am sure the look on my face gave away that it would be the same response as before. But my husband, who was now weeping with joy, let out an "I do" in the happiest but saddest voice I ever thought I would hear from him. I, however, at the moment, wanted to finish getting the baby out, not sit around staring in mirrors or touching the baby's head! I wanted to stop pushing and be able to rest!! I even shot Jon a dirty look as he reached down to touch the baby, thinking, seriously, can we move on now??
Minutes later my little Natalie was born at 9:56 am. She was a whopping 9 lbs .3 ozs and 21 1/4 inches long. Though I loved her dearly I was exhausted and after holding her for mere seconds I passed her to her daddy. I had always been told its okay if you don't have one of those instant falling head over heels in love with your baby right away experiences, but I had expected it. I was a sensitive, caring person, very emotional, and I was shocked I felt no real bond from that very first meeting as I had hoped. I loved her, but it seems she was destined to be a daddy's girl right from the beginning.



Before Natalie was even out, the epidural had been shut off and was fading too fast. I had a 2nd degree tear and I could feel them stitching me up. When I cried out in pain, no longer able to contain it, they offered me the option of local anaesthetic to help ease the pain- just great another needle being stuck in the very spot my body had endured the worst already! Unfortunately it had little effect and I suffered through the rest of the stitches as Jon feel deeper in love with his first little girl.

Don't forget to check out Zachary's Birth Story later this week as well as How We Came to Formula Feed Our Babies, and My 10 Tips for New Moms.

*Note to pregnant mommies planning on an epidural- DON'T let them shut if off until they are all done fixing you up! After my 2nd I was up front and adamant about that from the start and I didn't feel any of the stitches that time despite an overall weaker epidural!!*

Teach Me Tuesday: My 10 Tips To New Mommys

Having a baby can be a wonderful and exciting new experince. It can also be very scary if you aren't sure what you are doing! The good news is, the panic doesn't last too long, and usually only happens with the first one!
This is a list of some tips I found very valueable as a young new mom, and even some I didn't learn until after I had my second child.

1. I think getting on some type of routine is important. NOT a rigid schedule, but a flexible routine such as from 'The Baby Whisperer' by Tracy Hogg. In this book she teaches the 'E.A.S.Y.' method, Eat, Awake time, Sleep, and while baby is sleeping, time for Yourself. This method can be applied to any amount of time based on the age of your child. A younger infant may stick to a 2-3 hour time span from the 'E' to the 'Y', but an older baby should be able to go closer to the 4 hour mark. But like I said, its a general guideline, also take cues from your baby, though I would stress not to feed the baby in order to coax him to sleep. Thats a bad habit to get into. Getting into the habit of rocking them to sleep is a bad idea too, the best thing to do is put your baby down for naps when she is still awake, so she can learn to soothe herself to sleep with the aides of food or rocking.



2. My first baby was mildly colicky. I had to learn quickly that it IS okay to let her cry in a safe place like her crib when I can't handle trying to soothe her anymore. The important thing is not to get overly stressed, which seems impossible when you constantly are hearing your baby crying so hard, but it helped me a lot to be able to lay her down and walk away until I could recompose myself. It also helped with my hair loss- I wasn't pulling out as much once I realized this was okay to do!

3. I know some mom's stress over having a clean house, but especially early on, you just need to find peace with the mess. Having a newborn at home is not the time to be worrying about the clutter piled throughout your home, its the time to cherish your new baby and rest when the baby is sleeping! The mess will always be there for you to get to at a later date, the time with your baby, and those few and far between moments for you to relax won't. And you will be a better mommy to your baby if you are well rested.

4. This is definitely a matter of opinion, but by 6 weeks if your baby isn't sleeping a good 6 hours at night, let her cry it out! Of course go in every few minutes to try to soothe her, but gradually increase the gap in which you let her cry before rushing to her bedside. It may take a week, but your baby needs to learn how to soothe herself to sleep in the middle of the night, and you need to get more solid sleep yourself. Again, crying will not hurt your baby.

5. Beware the over tired infant. If you don't like to hear your baby crying, don't let them get over tired!! Unlike us when we are exhausted we can barely keep our eyes open, babies who have been kept up too long may get 'exhausted' or over tired and are unable to soothe themselves to sleep properly. I don't have any secret to tell you here, this is really a matter of developing the routine that works for your family and knowing your child. Picking up on little clues that tell you its time for them to sleep- maybe eye rubbing, yawning, that 1000 mile stare or something different.

6. When it comes to sleep, swaddling is a very valueable tool. Learn to do it well with your first and it just might earn you some extra sleep over the years (as you have more babies). It is very soothing to your new baby to be restricted like that because it reminds them of being in the womb, when they had minimal space. It also keeps them from jerking themselves awake as they lull off into dreamland.



7. As a formula feeding mom who wishes she was a breastfeeding mom, the best thing I can say is not to stress over it. Breastfeeding just isn't for everyone, and while for most who expected to breastfeed but found it quite difficult will have an emotional decision to make if they choose to stop, it isn't the end of the world. The important thing is that your baby gets fed, whatever the method you use, you are still a good parent caring for your new baby. I will say though, if you want it bad enough there are many resources and help for breastfeeding moms. I had friends who got a lot of help from La Leche League, they even came into their homes to observe, help and coach as a new mom tried to master getting the baby to latch on. Also if you can afford it, you can use a breast pump, but I was once told to not bother with it unless you can afford the good one, the expensive electric one, I can't testify to that personally, its just what I was told in a breastfeeding class I had taken before I had my first. Thats another thing, while you are pregnant, take the classes, go to La Leche League meetings, get as much information as you can glean to help you towards successfully breastfeeding. I don't regret my decision, but looking back, if I had wanted it more, it was probably possible, but being sleep deprived, and unsuspecting, I thought breastfeeding would come more naturally to me and my babies, but it just didn't, and it won't for everyone.

8. Cover your furniture!!! Until you know if your baby is prone to spit up, and assuming you like your current furniture in the state its in, I would suggest putting a blanket over the area you plan to sit and feed. My first baby absolutely destroyed out microfiber couch, which luckily was a piece of used furniture we didn't plan on keeping long anyway (though maybe a little longer had she not ruined the upholestry). By our second baby we learned our lesson and covered the couch in those very early days so our nice new couch would no recieve the abuse of the previous one.

9. Keep the camera handy! You just can't take too many pictures of your children! (And for those going it the second time- its more difficult but I stress taking just as many for your second and third children as you did for your first, you don't want anyone feeling left out or second best.) And you never know when that photo opportunity may strike, especially with the little ones, so always keep one within reach! You can sort through and decide what to keep later, but when the chance comes just snap away!! These moments won't come again once they have passed. Also important- don't only save them to your computer, back them up. If anything happened and you lost them, you will be very hurt. I had this happen and from 3 months to 10 months, I have very few pictures of my son, only those I had already sent away to my family could I get back. I now wish I had at least sent more! And I am much better about backing them up quickly now as well! Lesson learned- the hard way.

10. You can never hug and kiss your new baby too much!! To this day, I love loving on my children, and in at least one it has passed over. I love it when my now 4 year old daughter will randomly run up to me with a kiss and a hug. And heaven forbid we should forget to give her loves before bed, or anytime we even step outside the front door for a moment! My son hasn't quite learned how to love back, but he knows and accepts he will be getting many smooches from us each day. He often laughs as shower him with kisses!

I know I had said I was going to do baby names this week, but I thought this would fit in better as I share about the early days for me as a mother. Also see Natalie's Birth Story on Wednesday and Zachary's Birth Story on Friday, as well as How We Came to Formula Feed Our Babies.

This post is linked with and this is also my own Teach Me Tuesday post.

What have you learned this week?

How We Came to Formula Feed Our Babies

Feeling inspired by another blogger about a different topic to share then my usual, I am writing today about how and why Jon and I made the decision to formula feed both our kids. And I am also working on getting both their birth stories written up! It will be nice to share with them someday as they have their own children!

In the hospital, after giving birth to a beautiful baby girl, I was exhausted. I don't know if it was that reason, or it just wasn't destined to be, but I never felt the proper bond with Natalie. Not when they first laid her in my arms, and not when I first put her to my breast. After getting help from the nurses I managed to get her to latch on but within 5-10 minutes she stopped sucking and acted like she was done. I believed she was latched on correctly, it didn't hurt as badly as I had expected despite being told that it shouldn't hurt if you are doing it properly. Either way, I was determined to be a breastfeeding mommy.
The day and a half we spent before being released from the hospital, I loved being close to and feeding Natalie. It seemed though that she couldn't go longer then 5 minutes on each side, and then was crying for another feeding within 20 minutes. After 31 hours of labor, I was torn between intense exhaustion and constantly feeding her. I don't know why, but for some reason I expected things to get better once we got home with Natalie, and I pushed to be able to leave when we did. I had quickly grown immune to modesty as there were constantly male hospital workers coming in and out while I fed Natalie, checking my vitals, the babies feedings and keeping our room clean. Maybe that was a little of my reasoning, at heart it was demeaning to think my breasts were now not only mine, but my child's, and apparently out there for almost anyone to see!
We went home and the panic set in. Natalie constantly cried and it seemed she could sense the loss of help coming with the push of a button. We had no one to call and were on the opposite side of the country from all our family and close friends (gotta love the Navy). After another day in which I was feeding Natalie every 20 minutes, I was a zombie and I was wondering how much longer I could possibly go on like this. I came to the conclusion that she must not be latching on properly to be getting enough to eat, so we made an appointment to go back in to see a doctor for help. Of course as I attempted to feed Natalie in front of the doctor, she latched on quickly and correctly and fed for a full half an hour each side. I foolishly thought the issue was over.
Like when you take your car to the mechanic because its making a funny noise, but for the mechanic it purrs like a kitten, that is until you get it home again. That was the same game Natalie was playing on us. Our third day home with her, and another sleepless night and day for me, her feeding machine, I caved. On Jon's suggestion we went out to buy formula, just to tide her over a little while so I could rest. It was like a miracle had happened! Someone must've switched our baby out! Natalie went 2 full hours between feedings after gulping down merely 3 ozs of formula. And I got 4 hours of sleep as Jon watched over her and fed her using a bottle.
My strength somewhat renewed, I tried once again to bring her to my breast, but the struggle continued, for her with latching on, and I, with sleep deprivation. Through many tears and fears of losing that emotional bond breastfeeding is supposed to bring, the toughest decision was mine to make. I could've pumped- though we didn't have money to buy a good one. I could've had someone from the La Leche League come to help- though I was only vaguely aware of the help they may have offered and didn't know how to contact them or how quickly they could come. But I decided to value my sanity first, as we moved forward with formula feeding.
It was never my first choice. I even tried breastfeeding again with my son. On the opposite end of the scale, he latched on within his first hour, and was still eating nearly 3 hrs later! He also was much more aggressive then I was prepared for, and though I questioned his latch, the nurses having barely glanced my way assured me he was fine. I was crying by the time I had to pry him off, and I couldn't imagine continuing. Of course the decision was easier this time, not as emotional since we had already gone through it once. And my choices were fewer since, though now better aware of the La Leche League it was not available to me here on Guam. Before we were out of the hospital, I had begun asking for formula to feed Zachary, at which point the exact same nurses questioned why I wasn't breastfeeding. When I answered about how seriously painful it was, the response I got was 'Must've had a bad latch.' (?!?!?!)
I don't regret either decision, though when we have a third, I am hoping to find a middle ground between my over aggressive eater and my snacker. I know now having 2 happy healthy kids, that it won't be the end of the world if I need to resort to formula. I may actually get a breast pump next time so I can be more prepared. But what ended up being best for our family with both our first and second children, during very stressful times in our lives, was to bottle feed. And my husband really enjoyed being able to be a part of that experience as well. In fact, in the beginning, we used to fight over who got to feed the baby, at least during the day!
Nope I wouldn't change anything about those early days with our little bundles of joy, and I truly look forward to doing it again. Even the childbirth, I look on and think of with very happy thoughts- though of course I had an epidural each time- I still get a feeling of accomplishment remembering it, no matter whether I breastfed or not!

A Mommy in the Making

Since adding a new baby to our family 15 months ago, I am discovering that I am raising a mommy in the making! I, myself, had 3 younger sisters and lived most of my life with my mother and grandmother. Talk about a house full of estrogen!! Due to this environment I have very little experience with young boys. So I have no idea how my son will react to having a new baby again, as I hope to in a few more years, but I truly enjoy watching Natalie's natural nuturing nature present itself more and more.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised. For Natalie's 2nd Christmas, Santa brought her the mother load of doll clothes, accessories and even a new doll to add to her growing collection. And over the years I have continued to contribute to it myself regularly. Can a little girl ever really have too many dollies? It is nearly impossible for me to resist buying Natalie the new Mommy & Me dolls, each in a different adorable outfit- a doll ready for the rain, or one on her way to the beach, then yet another preparing to be tucked into bed. I think there must be a special gene God has embedded in the hearts of little and big girls. Most of us long for the joys of motherhood from the time we can walk, all the way to the real deal as our first child is born! Over time, I have had the privilege to witness Natalie care for her naked baby dolls, as well as her perfectly dressed stuffed animals. She carefully tucks them into bed in the doll cradle. Or when they 'cry'- and one actually does much to my regret- she rushes to soothe them, offering a bottle or pacifier, and if that doesn't work she just whips up some of her delicious potato, shoe and sock stew. Natalie enjoys pretending to be a mommy.
Since Zachary has come into our lives I have watched as Natalie now mothers not only her dolls, but also her baby brother. She rushes to get me a diaper from his room when I run out in the living room. She brings him toys. In fact one of the very first days after he arrived in his new home, while I sat changing his diaper on the floor, Natalie brought an offering of small toys and placed them in a pile beside Zachary. She rejoices in his triumphs right beside me. And she helps him up when he falls. She is quick to let me know if he is doing something dangerous- as well as other things not so dangerous. And just minutes ago, as Natalie helped me out by giving Zachary his bowl of scrambled eggs for dinner, I watched her carefully blow onto the eggs, then feel with her fingers to check that they would not be scorching Zachary's tongue tonight, then again blow more on them to ensure cool eggs, before finally placing the bowl onto his high chair. And that's when it really hit me...Natalie truly is a mommy in the making!

Reaping Rewards from Parenting

Smiles radiating from joyful children as you enter the room after a long day at work, or even just a quick trip to check the mail.

Laughs and giggles bursting out of little mouths before your fingers have even found their tickle spots.

A random kiss and a sweet hug from a loving child as you stand in the kitchen washing the dishes.

Encouraging words from the little voice of your hopeful child pushing you forward in your endeavor.

Standing back to witness and watch as your children play and entertain each other, with joy and happiness lighting up their faces toward the other, despite any gaps in their ages.

An innocent request for you to close your eyes tight, as an eager child waits to unveil her newest masterpiece.

Helping hands enthusiastically handing you the new baby's burp cloth before the spew is spilled onto the floor.

Hurried feet rushing toward you, with tears streaming from big sad eyes, looking for that perfect fit of only your caring arms to comfort them in their times of pain and grief.

Eyes wide with curiosity as your child wonders for the 27th time why the sun is yellow, how the flowers grow or where it is that God lives.

Being reminded by a concerned child, as you lift your fork from the table, that your food remains unblessed by its Provider.

Cuddling up under the warm comforter as bedtime draws near, and listening to the sweet and simple prayer of your little one as she thanks the Lord for her family.

These are just a few of the rewards that parents may reap from their wonderful, smart, silly, and sweet children.

Happy Father's Day!

"I want to be a grown up!"

Do you ever find yourself getting nostalgic for those old childhood days? When the magic was alive and bright before your eyes. Everything was new and exciting and full of wonder. Of course we can never have those days back, as hard as we may wish. I remember being so anxious to grow up, to make my own decisions and do whatever I wanted. Of course, now I try to convince my own daughter to enjoy her childhood as I hear those fateful words come out of her own mouth, "I want to be a grown up!". As hard as I try to convince her, there is no swaying her wish. Someday she will be a grown up, and no doubt regretting those words as her own children utter them and the cycle continues.
I hope one day she will sit down and listen to me before its too late. Before her eyes begin to age and the magic and mystery of the world dims into reality. Before those fairy tale dreams, of princes and castles, of fairies and magic wands, fade away into homework and body image, popularity and boys. Maybe I could convince her to cling onto her dreams, and the magic. And then one day I can share with her about a new kind of magic, love and grace.
Her eyes will again be wide with wonder as she sees the world as God created it. She will know the magic of real love, the love that only Jesus Christ could give her. She would feel her burdens lifted as God's amazing grace washes down upon her. Even the rainbow she once dreamed of going over would have new meaning and magic as a promise from God.
This is what I dream of. My children embracing the magic of childhood, when hope is all they have, and as their eyes grow dim to that magic, that the wonder of God will light them again, when grace is all they need.

The Short Story of My Name as I Know It

Growing up I remember thinking my name was so masculine. It was absolutely clear to me at the time, that it was a name that a boy should be labeled with. I genuinely couldn't stand it. Of course now I realize what I didn't like was the nickname 'Chris' that seemed to naturally come to mind for anyone trying to tease me somehow, because I have yet to meet a boy named Crystal.
I once asked my mom why she named me that, but all I got was what I thought was a cop-out: "I just liked the name Crystal!" Really?? You liked a name that's meaning is a clear rock? Not even a diamond or precious gemstone, just a clear rock?? I remember as a kid saying at one point that I was named after a famous movie star, to make my friends all jealous. I wanted some claim that my name was more important, more special.
Eventually I realized though that Lynn, my middle name was truly a treasure. I share my middle name with my grandma, my mom, and now my own daughter. And though it is a common name, I knew more girls with the middle name Lynn then I can remember, it was special to me just because of who I share it with.
And as for Crystal, I can't say I am thrilled with it anymore then I was as a child. But I definitely don't hate it, I no longer view it as masculine and I can't say it sounds bad, especially coming from the mouth of the man I love, who funny enough can't stand his own name (which of course means I love it).
I just hope someday my own children will treasure the names I have picked out so thoughtfully and lovingly for them, as I now realize my mom did the same way for me when I was still a baby kicking her from inside her belly.

This is the 1st in a 15 week series I am doing to record my youth with other woman. Check it out at

One of Parenthood's Toughest Moments

I just stood there feeling so completely helpless. My eyes began to well up with tears as I looked into the big blue eyes of my son, whose eyes were also now rimmed with teardrops. His face was bright red and contorted into a look that seemed to ask 'why are you doing this to me? What did I do wrong?'. His cries echoed in the large sparsely equipped room. I tried holding his hands that were sticking up out of the large clear plastic contraption that forced his arms over his head, but I wondered if that made it worse or better. What could he be thinking of me at this moment when I should be comforting him. Instead it must seem to him I was just a mere witness to the tortures he was enduring in his sickness. Instead of his hero, swooping in to snuggle with him, to care for him and console his ailments, I was the bringer of more pain. Putting him through countless procedures with big men in lab coats coming in and out to prod and poke him. I was the one holding him down, making it easier for the strange men to accomplish these atrocities. If only he could understand how much suffering it caused me to have to allow these procedures. If only he would realize I want more then anything to just hold him and soothe him to make it all better, by myself. If only he could forgive me for not knowing how to truly help his poor sick little body so that he could avoid all the tears and wailing and confusion our visit to the hospital has caused.
My one relief is in remembering that tomorrow this will all be forgotten; lost to his short memory span; meaningless to him when living in the present where he is happy and healthy once again.

Dreaming Big Dreams

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She dreamed big dreams. Dreams of becoming a doctor, as she would practice on her friends and pets; Trying to fix every little boo-boo. She dreamed of being a lawyer, arguing seemed to be only too natural to her as she constantly tested her theories among her siblings; much yelling ensued and the judge always had to step in to keep her in line. She longed to be a great chef, and would whip together her favorite macaroni and cheese whenever the opportunity provided itself! She aspired to become a photographer and hang her many beautiful photos in the best galleries. And sometimes she would picture herself as a designer and architect, dreaming up the most awesome and creative buildings, stretching her creativity farther then she could ever imagine, time and time again. This girl would often sit in her English classes, as she would read the novels of amazing authors such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and imagine herself someday winding a wonderful tale with words to create wonderful lands and far away places only seen through the eyes of her readers. But soon it was time for her to grow up and choose a path to follow. Would she be a doctor, a lawyer, or a chef? Should she become a photographer, an architect, or a writer?
The decision became very clear to this little girl, as she quickly was becoming a young woman, she would be a mother and she would be so much more.
A doctor who would heal her children's wounds with bandages, hugs and kisses. She would be the lawyer who cunningly convinces her children they want to clean their rooms and go to bed on time so that they can be well rested for the adventures tomorrow holds. She would be a chef, constantly experimenting with new ways to tuck nutritious vegetables and grains into food that would end up in her children's bellies and not splattered on the walls or floor. She would become a great photographer, constantly trying to snap that extra special shot that would make it onto the walls of her own gallery, the most precious gallery she could ever hope to make it into, the gallery of a happy home. She would become an architect, constantly using her creativity to build the better fort, or construct the perfect science or craft project with her children. She would even become the author of the best story ever written, as she created her own unique tale with her wonderful children and family as they have their ups and downs on the long winding path God has led them down. She would even be things she hadn't dreamed of as a child, a teacher, a counselor, an entertainer, an artist, a party planner and anything else her children would require of her as they grow and dream their own dreams. But most importantly of all she would be a mother.

What did you dream of when you were a child? Did your dreams come true in some form?

Spankings:'Rod' or Hand?

While I know there are some out there who are adamantly opposed to spanking children, I believe it is one of the best tools in my own list of discipline, at least for the young ages of my children at present. We began giving Natalie spankings at about 18 months, occasionally, about a year after that in her terrible twos phase it became very obvious we weren't using that tool enough as the other methods began failing. Now it is the only discipline Natalie responds too along with taking away toys & privileges in relation to her current offense. She has actually asked for timeout in the past knowing the other choice would be a spanking, in which case we have put timeouts in a timeout until it seems suitable to bring it out again. I guess I just figured when she starts asking for one in place of another, the first has lost its effectiveness.
But with all the spankings she gets, she still sometimes comes out of it trying desperately to bury her smile even though it stings my own hand as hard as I have to spank her to get her to feel it and realize it is a punishment. This brings me to a question I would like to send out to everyone. Parents or not, I am curious what your opinions are on the topic of spankings, the hand or the rod?
I have heard a few things for either way: those in favor of the hand seem to think it is best because we are better able to control the strength behind it, those against it question how it will effect the child if we spank with the same hands that we care for them and love them with. They feel that our hands should be symbols of love to children not punishment. As for those in favor of the rod, I have been told, it leaves more of a sting, resulting in hopefully fewer spankings because the message gets through faster and that it is again not us per say using the same hands we love with to 'hurt' with. And of course those against it feel it is harder to calibrate the strength with which we spank with it.
I don't necessarily agree with the idea that we don't want to spank with our hands because we shouldn't love and inflict pain with the same hands, but I do believe in spanking we are showing love as we teach and discipline them into becoming better people. I am just sharing the reasons I have heard given against and for each side in the past.
So readers, what are your thoughts on this? Do you spank with a 'rod' or with your hand and what are your own reasons for that choice?

Introducing, Natalie, The Naive Jester

What personality and attitude my daughter, Natalie, has!! Sometimes a little too much when it comes to the latter of the two. Here are some of the those precious moments we look back on and laugh, as the term 'kids say the darnedest things' takes on a very personal note to me!

As we waited at the doctor's office when I was pregnant with Zachary, I covered myself very carefully with the sheet. The doctor, who incidentally goes to church with us, is going to be coming to check my cervix and as I was hoping this would be my last visit before I had my precious boy, I insisted Jon and Natalie come to the appointment with me to hear the baby's heartbeat, that symbol of the life inside of me, one last time before we would be very much aware of his presence in our lives! My doctor came in and soon was covertly checking my cervix under the sheet so that Natalie would not see anything. But apparently she is more perceptive then I give her credit for because out of her sweet little mouth at 3 years old, comes the concerned and curious phrase, "Doctor put fingers in Mommy's hoo-hoo?". Needless to say I turned bright red and was completely speechless myself!

As Easter approached we pulled out some of Natalie's past Easter baskets and some plastic eggs so she could brush up on her egg hunting skills in time for the Easter egg hunt with some friends we had planned for later that week. One day she brought her basket and some toys out to the living room and preceded to put her foot into the basket and then gently place random toys on top of her foot within the basket. I looked at her puzzled and dismissed her strange behavior, saying to her "You're a weirdo!". Without missing a beat, Natalie replied, "No, I'm not a weirdo! I am a genius!" I didn't even realize she knew what that word meant!!

As a family we approached the 'fork in the road' at the mall. Jon was to go one direction looking for something, and I wanted to check out some things in the opposite direction. I assumed Natalie would want to go with her Daddy, being the daddy's girl she is, then as we prepared to make the trade-off, I would take the stroller, and Zachary in it, from Jon and he would be taking Natalie who was holding my hand, and Natalie declares she wants to go with mommy! How sweet, its such a rare moment when she prefers mommy over daddy, unless of course Jon is punishing her, then she uselessly clings to me for sympathy (which of course she does NOT get!). And as Natalie and I head in the direction of tiny clothes and frilly dresses I ask her what made her so adamantly want to tag along with mommy, and her reply is, "Because you a lady, and girls have to stick together!" That explains it all!

As per our usual routine, Natalie rushes into the bathroom before lunch so that I can put her hair into a ponytail and pin back any stray hairs that may be searching for a sticky substance to bathe in. She gets up on her stool as she carefully chooses the color of ponytail we will be using today, and I stand behind her and begin to gather up her long locks. Looking up into the mirror, as if for the first time, she so elegantly announces in her own surprise "I am soooo pretty!" All I can do is chuckle to myself and agree, but of course I have known that for over 3 years.

Some of you may have already heard these little antidotes from me other times, but be on the lookout for more from Natalie, the Naive Jester. She is always coming up with more innocent yet hilarious comments to put a smile on my face and hopefully on yours as well!

What funny and cute things have your children said that made you laugh or turn red with embarressment?

Why Worry?

As I go about my house, tidying up some before my husband gets home, in a rush of panic Natalie hurries to my side. "Mommy, Mommy, the temperature is not on!!"- translated from 4 year old speak that means something along the lines of, "Mommy, Mommy, the thermostat's light turned off!!", at least I think thats what had her concerned! I assume that because I had just been over to it and adjusted the temperature in the room, which turns the backlight on for a few seconds as I change it. And not for the first time by any means I assure Natalie she doesn't need to worry about anything because Mommy is in control of the situation. And off to her room she goes, her world at peace again. In my own world a light bulb had been turned on.
I never cease to be amazed at the things parenthood has taught me about my own relationship with the Lord. If you really know me well, you should know I am a worrier! I worry about everything, I daydream out a number of assorted scenarios in which things could go wrong for any little action that I might take or any illness or ailment that may befall me or any of my family. I have to constantly remind myself that God is in control of my life and I shouldn't worry. But that worry bug still pokes its ugly head up every time one of the kids gets a fever, or Jon is even 10 minutes late getting home from work. But now as I sit here, I have been given a glimpse of what God is thinking every time I let worry wreck havoc in my heart.
As I assured Natalie in her panic that everything was fine because I would take care of her, as I have often reminded her of in the past in similiar situations, I realized that is exactly what God is constantly trying to get through to me! Luckily He has much more patience then I do!! I can get so exasperated sometimes by Natalie's constant concerns and worries over the tiniest things, and I think to myself, Doesn't she know by now that I will take care of her?!! That I would do everything in my own power to keep her safe and healthy and cared for? What an eye opener to think that is the same thing God is looking down on us and thinking about us! Shouldn't we know God will take care of us? He has blessed and enriched my life in so many ways when I have let Him take control, even in the trials He has only ever held me closer when I cried out to Him. And if I think to myself Natalie should feel safe because I would do everything in my power to keep her safe, then I should not fear anything, because God says the same thing to me!! God, who is ALL powerful, has been telling me for a long time that exact thought. Crystal, I am the ALL powerful God who created you, and everything around you. Everything you have, is because of Me. All the blessing in your life come from Me. I will always take care of you, you have NOTHING to worry about with Me in control of your life!!
How amazing to have the all powerful God in control of my life! What could I possibly have to worry about if I truly trust in Him?

For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they donot toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith!....But seek first His kingdon and His righteousness and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6: 25-30, 33-34