Lenten Reading

Is it possible to think about Lent in the middle of moving?  Ash Wednesday kicks it off next week (if you can use such an exuberant term for a 40-day period of repentance, fasting, and anticpating Holy Week), and I will be on the road somewhere between Wyoming and Oklahoma that day, but I had to share with you a book that I think would be appropriate for the season:

It's Respectable Sins by Jerry Bridges.  I bought the Kindle version.  It's kicking my behind, spiritually speaking.

In the book Bridges confronts what he calls the "respectable sins" of the Christian community--not abortion, divorce, homosexuality, etc., but things that we tend to not view as sin at all, like anxiety, anger, and complaining.  They are sins, as he clearly points out.

How about this one?  "Ungodliness."  This is Bridges's term for "living your life as though God is irrelevant much of the time".  It occurred to me yesterday, when I was feeling discouraged because I had to scrub some 3-day-old baby puke off of my recliner, and it WAS 3 days old, that I had been operating in my daily work in this way.  I had been behaving as though the amount of housework or homeschooling I got done depended solely on me, or possibly also on the Husband.

Really, of course, it's God in His sovereginty Who decides whether something will explode or leak and whether I will get the laundry folded.  Does this mean that I don't try to plan, work hard, and get my laundry folded?  Absolutely not--the book of Proverbs pretty much makes it clear that we're to work, and work pretty hard at times.  But I can't get the ridiculous idea that the effectiveness of my work depends on me.  I can't do anything without His enabling.

Think about it as you go through your day today.  Since we're supposed to eat, drink, and do everything for the glory of God, is there something that you habitually do without a thought of Him?

(Another kind of silly example: I used to think it was somehow silly to pray about football games.  Honestly I try to keep it to "please, let that player who's down not be badly hurt" and not so much to "please let the Steelers win", although we certainly HAVE prayed for the Steelers to win before. {In a "only if it's Your will" kind of way, but hey, the Bible does say if you have not to ask, right?}  But it occurs to me now that it's probably more appropriate to pray about a football game than to spend that whole two hours without thinking once of the Lord.)

I realized I do a whole lot of things every day without thinking of God.  Not okay.

There is a practice I first read about in A Mother's Rule of Life (another book I recommend), where, having built a schedule centered around your vocation (in the case of a mother, around children, husband, prayer, and housework), you consciously dedicate each chunk of time to the service of God.  I.e., say it's toilet-scrubbing day.  Well, give that job to the Lord, and then scrub the toilets like Jesus was the One who asked you to do it.  Because, in fact, if He made you a housewife, than He did.

Certainly makes you think...and want to do a better job at some things...and want to quit doing other things altogether.

More as I get further into the book, this Lententide.  I have to read the "Ungodliness" chapter again.

Cheers,

Breanna

Mothering and 12-Hour-Shifts

I said to the Husband the other day that after chasing three stir-crazy children all day I (literally) felt like I had been working a 12 at the hospital.  To those of you who have never worked a 12-hour shift as a nurse on a medical-surgical floor, that might not be so evocative, but it might give you a picture of what my 12s used to be like if I tell you that many times I sat down exactly twice: once for report, and once for my 15-minute lunch.  (It was supposed to be 30 minutes of {unpaid} lunch, but I almost never got my full 30 minutes because people dying take precedence over lunch.)

What brought on this state of affairs?  Trying to fold 2 baskets of laundry.  To accomplish this I had to wait until Littleman was asleep and then actually strap Buddy to my body with a baby backpack.

While composing this post Buddy has filled the bed of his Tonka with water and is gleefully playing in it.

Sigh.  At least I do get to eat lunch most of the time.

Cheers,

Breanna

The Most Interesting Baby in the World

So there's this commercial:

You see, it's not that we really think other babies are uninteresting; it's just that Littleman impressed Baba the other day by improbably attempting to stand when held upright, also holding up his head more than a 10-day-old ought to.  We dubbed him "the most interesting baby in the world", and started coming up with other improbable accomplishments, like running for the Senate.

This is a yawn shot.  Either that or he objects to having his picture taken in the morning before he shaves.

This was meant to show the chins as well as the hair, but you can't really see how far his hair sticks up.  Shame.

"Stop taking pictures."

Simply the most interesting baby in the world. ;)

Cheers,

Breanna

Guest Post - Movie Quotes We All Get

Note: I've arrived!  I have a guest columnist today, just like fancy, real blogs!  Blog posts may get a little scattered as the date for our move draws nearer.  We've found a new house, and have less than two weeks before we're on the road.  You might pray for us; in the meantime, read this:




In the column to the left you see little quips under the heading: “Movie Quotes Only My Sister Will Get”. Actually, almost everyone in our immediate family gets these – Sister just happens to be the best at it. As stated in an earlier post, this game of quoting movie lines began as a road-trip idea to make long drives less tedious. Later they also served as a way to communicate an idea or mood that was synonymous with the quote.


For instance …

Lorraine: “George, help me!”
Biff: “Just turn around, McFly, and walk away!”
George: (with voice quavering, certain he will get creamed, says anyway …) “No, Biff … you leave her alone!”

– Back To The Future (Part One)

Yeah. Arguably one of the best scenes in the movie trilogy. I don’t know if Robert Zemeckis intended for the movie climax to be here, or when George and Lorraine kiss at the dance, or maybe when Marty finally goes back home at 88 miles an hour. The fact is, this is it. And here’s why.

In the previous reality, Lorraine kisses George at the dance, the marry and have a family, but all of life afterward becomes devoid of real meaning. Lorraine’s romantic feelings cannot sustain her through a hopeless, empty future.

But once Marty orchestrates the meeting of his future-parents again, Lorraine has a different reason for kissing George – a nobler reason. He’s proved himself trustworthy.

Not that George plans it this way – previously …


(Marty and George rehearse the bravado scenario)
George: “ ‘Hey, you! Take your d*** hands off her!’ Do you really think I should swear?”
Marty: “Yes, d***** George, swear! It’s a wonder I was ever born!”

You see, imagining how we’ll be courageous will most likely be much different than actually being courageous. We will probably feel tough enough to swear, look brave, and see it all as the great adventure. And Lorraine will feel the romance, and all will be well.

But as has been said, adventure is just an unrealistic name for trouble. And trusting beats romance every time. As wonderful as romance is, without trust, it’s hollow and will eventually lead to crushing disappointment.

My kids are heading off on a great adventure, and buying a new house, living in a new culture, and it can all seem so thrilling and romantic. But really, it holds a lot of stress, strain, and terror. And here is where one needs to trust. Because trusting is the right thing to do. George knows he’s going to get it – he feels no bravery at all. Yet even though he’s about to weep, and his index finger shakes uncontrollably, he makes a decision: “No, Biff! You leave her alone!”

Maybe Zemeckis did know what he was doing. For Marty’s future is still not secure. George is in, but what about Lorraine? She makes her decision later at the dance, and it’s assumed not without the same fearful but faithful commitment her hero has made. She’s not in it for silly romantic reasons, but solid trustworthy reasons (and now so much more romantic!)

Breanna and the Husband are off on a romantic adventure. But really, they’ve decided to go because, before God, they believe it the right thing to do. It’s actually pretty dark in there - scary and risky, and they may get creamed. But God’s trustworthy, so they’re going with hope and courage.
They still need your prayers – Texas is not Montana, and to me they are SO YOUNG!!! But courage will give a better future than romance … every single time!

Cheers,

Baba (Breanna’s dad)

Life With Three

Don't ask for a picture, at the moment.  You'd get one of Miss Boo and Buddy taking all the kitchen washcloths and towels out and running around the living room spreading them, yelling "Kites!"

However, we're really remarkably peaceful.  Littleman is sleeping, wrapped in a blankie, draped across my lap as I type.  Miss Boo and Buddy are (kinda) watching Max & Ruby, one of the few sweet kiddy shows left on TV.  (I have weird standards about kid's shows, apparently--not only do I not want violence or ugly, scary animation or more-than-usually-annoying-songs, I also don't want the kids on the shows to talk in snotty, bratty ways to each other and parents.  This seems to limit us to about four shows out of everything on television, but that's ok.)

Miss Boo has, in the last week and a half or so, taken over the potty-training issue and has been taking herself potty without being reminded.  She's almost ready to graduate entirely, I think.

Buddy, except for a distressing desire to climb into the bassinet (which after all makes an even better boat than a laundry basket), has been charmingly tender toward his little brother.

Littleman has put on a couple of chins in the course of the week.  Tomorrow we have a doctor's appointment for him, and should find out whether he's got his birthweight back.

The Husband is travelling this week, down to our new digs to decide on which house we will buy, sight (by me) unseen.  (He'll see the house, obviously.)  I know, I know, but I really do trust him.  He's got a good head on his shoulders, a cell phone, and a specific list of requirements from his wife.  I believe I'd trust him even if it was 1903 and he was taking a train West, with me to follow in a month. 

Really, considering what many people did in those times, the challenge of moving into one of five preselected nice houses (some with granite counters!) is not too severe.  The children and I are decamping to Grammy's house after Littleman's appointment tomorrow, so I'll have it easy that way, too.

I had the thought yesterday "By this time next month, I'll live in another state".  I had to immediately put it out of my mind, to save myself from gibbering.  Things are sort of happening very fast now--our current house is sold, the movers have a drop-dead-solid date for packing up our stuff, and our hotel reservations for the moving trip are made.  The only way the Husband and I have been able to keep from getting overwhelmed by it all is to not think farther than the next step.  This is the opposite of how I live my life most of the time, so it's a very odd coping mechanism to have to use.

The baby's awfully cute, though.

Cheers,

Breanna

Littleman's Story

So, just so you know, two things:

1. If you're a guy, or not pregnant, and haven't had kids, this post might be a bit TMI for you.  I wouldn't be offended if you decided you didn't want to read it.

2. My birthing choices, like the fact that I use cloth diapers and homeschool, represent the things that we've found best for our family--I'm not judging you if you happen to do things the opposite way from me.  So don't feel guilty/condemned/etc.

The funny thing is that we had joked ahead of time, "Wouldn't it be funny, since the Steelers are in the Superbowl, if I went into labor on Superbowl Sunday?  And then had the baby during the last, exciting play of the game?"

Har har har.

It actually started on Saturday night, with contractions that saw to it that I didn't get to sleep.  Eventually we hit a plateau, in the middle of the night, enough that I could doze between contractions.

Early Sunday we called the grandparents, who got here after church, by which time I was having contractions every five minutes, moaning, and trying not to frighten the other kids, who decided I was roaring like a jaguar and was, consequently, hysterically funny.  When the contractions began getting more like three and one minute apart, I decided perhaps this was really it and that I should go to the hospital while the getting was good.

So it was that we were checked in at the hospital about a half hour before kickoff.  The nurse looked at me dubiously in the triage room and said, "I think it's silly to check you in here--you're going to stay".  We found, to our surprise, that I was at 5cm (halfway), already.

Over the next five hours I pretty much handled labor by the expedients of rolling around in a tub of hot water (they have awesome tubs on the labor and delivery floor) and yelling my fool head off.  Littleman was turned toward my left hip and didn't want to finish rotating, just like his brother, but unlike his brother could be convinced to turn with correct positioning.  I kept yelling, but got out of the tub since I wanted to push the baby out and the midwife was understandably reluctant to catch the baby in the water.  I yelled a bit more during pushing, until the Husband said "get the most work for your breath" and finally my rational mind got enough control to get good pushing in.

(During labor my rational mind is like the warden during a prison riot--aware but powerless.)

Out came Littleman, whose name should really be Bigman, gulping amniotic fluid and pooping simultaneously.  He had to have the fluid suctioned out of his mouth and stomach for a few minutes after he was born.

I say he should be called Bigman because, while his siblings were 6lbs 9oz and 6lbs 10oz respectively, this kid was 8lbs 5oz.  I knew it wasn't just my imagination that my belly stuck out to a ridiculous extent.  He had a giant head -- 14.5 inches.  His siblings were also cue balls--Buddy, you'll note, still doesn't have much hair.  Littleman has a huge shock of black hair, and a cowlick that sticks straight up.

A few notes, if you're wondering what a completely natural delivery feels like.  (Natural in that I had no Pitocin, no pain medication, no IV, no episiotomy, no interventions at all except for my water breaking when the midwife checked me once.)

I think the research is pretty clear that natural, vs. medicated, labor and delivery is best for the baby most of the time.  That is the main reason why I put myself through contractions without pain medication.  A secondary reason is that I've had two other labors, both with Pitocin and one with spinal anesthesia, and that the pain medication doesn't actually work that well.  However, I'm not going to tell you that by having an epidural you will mess everything up and ruin your baby.  You do what you have to do, ok?  I'll tell you what the benefits were that I saw to a natural birth, compared to my medicated births, and you can draw your own conclusions about what might work for you.

1. Pitocin vs. No Pitocin

Contractions with Pitocin hurt a lot more than contractions without, and the rest periods in between contractions don't feel nearly as good with Pitocin.  With my first two births, I had Pitocin (synthetic oxytocin, sometimes called Syntocin) "augmentation".  I didn't realize how much it contributed to my exhaustion after labor until I didn't have it with this labor--the rest periods in between contractions were much nicer this time, with me feeling alert, happy, and relaxed, instead of tense, sullen, and still in pain. 

Also, I think that my babies born after a Pitocin-augmented labor were more tired than Littleman.  Pitocin causes stronger contractions than natural ones, which make it so the baby gets less oxygen.  Littleman seems very alert and chipper, compared to his sibs.

2. Pain medicine vs. No pain medicine

I had no pain meds with Miss Boo except a dose of Stadol, an IV narcotic that lasts about an hour.  It did nothing at all for me except make me tired--didn't even take the edge of the contractions.  I highly recommend not bothering with it.  With Buddy, I had Stadol (because I was on hour 30 of contractions and hour 4 or 5 of Pitocin-augmented contractions, and I was a bit loopy) and then, when the exhaustion was beginning to tell, an intrathecal (spinal) anesthetic.  The Stadol, again, didn't do a dang thing.  The spinal took away all sensation from about my armpits down, which felt wonderful, but which had some side effects:

I couldn't feel while I was pushing.  I had already had a baby and knew how to push, so this wasn't bad for me, but if it was my first baby it might have been difficult to know when/where to push.

Buddy was still sleepy from the medication when he came out, and didn't breathe on his own--he had to have oxygen.  He was also too sleepy to nurse, and slept a lot for the next few days after delivery and didn't nurse as much as he should have, which I think contributed to a case of jaundice he developed at a week old.

I was dreadfully tired and sore after Buddy's delivery, and lost a lot of blood.

By comparison, with Littleman I lost hardly any blood during delivery, he's nursing wonderfully, and I have a few stiff muscles.

3. Not Eating vs. Eating

...which might really be called laboring at home vs. laboring in the hospital.  With both other births I went to the hospital too soon, as soon as I was sure I was in labor.  This time we labored at home for 13 hours before we went to the hospital, during which time I ate whatever I wanted to and rocked in my own recliner.  It made a vast difference in how strong I felt, since in the hospital I had been restricted to clear liquids duing labor.  (Bleah!)  Imagine trying to take a 50 mile hike on apple juice, Sprite, and Jello and you can get an idea of how tired and shaky laboring while hungry can make you.

5 hours in the hospital was much more doable after getting the early stuff out of the way at home.  Unless you have precipitous labors, try staying home.

4. Conclusions

I think use of pain medicine in labor is a personal choice, but you may want to consider it as a pay-me-now-or-pay-me-later phenomena.  My spinal definitely made the end of labor and pushing easier than my two non-medicated pushing phases; however, I was in pain and run down for days after labor, vs. being in pain for an hour or thirty minutes while pushing and then feeling pretty good in the days after labor.  The nurses kept commenting this time on how well I was doing and how healthy and happy I seemed, compared to their c-section and epidural patients.  If you have pressing reasons you need to feel good soon after labor, I highly recommend trying for a non-medicated birth.  This is by far the easiest recovery for me, to the point that I'm having to remind myself to keep resting.

However, if you can ensure you'll have plenty of help after labor, perhaps you can afford to use some medication in labor.  I refuse to make it black-and-white--I'm still convinced that the combination of Pitocin and fasting in Buddy's labor would have exhausted me to the point of failure during pushing and an emergency c-section, had I not had the rest that the spinal gave me.  And believe me, a spinal is better than a c-section.

Any questions?

Cheers,

Breanna

We Have Baby!

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow,

Praise Him all creatures here below, 

Praise Him above ye heavenly host, 

 Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

Our boy arrived, in accordance with the Lord's fine sense of humor, on Superbowl Sunday, about 15 minutes after the Steelers lost.  I admit I wasn't as upset about the football game as I otherwise might have been, since I was on my left side at the time with one knee in the air, getting admonished by a midwife: "Don't scream now, Breanna, push."

More details about the birth to follow (I wasn't screaming really because I was in so much pain, it is just a lot of hard work and somehow I could get leverage on pushing if I was very loud....), if you're curious, but I knew ya'll wanted to see the kid.

Cheers,

Breanna

P.S.

I can reach my feet!

Wisdom from Screwtape

Not that Screwtape would want to be helpful.  Screwtape, of course, is C.S. Lewis's creation in The Screwtape Letters, a demon writing letters to another demon.  Thus the letters deal with ways to get the "patient", a human, to sin--and refer to the Lord as the Enemy.

It's difficult not to fret when you are officially a week overdue and have had several episodes of "prodromal" labor that have fooled even the midwife.  Today the Lord brought this passage from Screwtape to mind:

Your patient will, of course, have picked up the notion that he must submit with patience to the Enemy's will.  What the Enemy means by this is primarily that he should accept with patience the tribulation which has actually been dealt out to him--the present anxiety and suspense.  It is about this that the daily bread will be provided. 

It is your business to see that the patient never thinks of the present fear as his appointed cross, but only of the things he is afraid of.  Let him regard them as his crosses: let him forget that, since they are incompatible, they cannot all happen to him, and let him try to practise fortitude and patience to them  all in advance. 

For real resignation, at the same moment, to a dozen different and hypothetical fates, is almost impossible, and the Enemy does not greatly assist those who are trying to attain it: resignation to present and actual suffering, even where that suffering consists of fear, is easier and is usually helped by this direct action.

So here is the thing.  I really have no business allowing myself to think much about probabilities--i.e., "I will have to be induced at this rate", which leads to "induction has a 40% c-section rate", which leads to "I really, really don't want to be sectioned", which leads to "but of course, Lord, if that's Your will..."

I am falling exactly into the trap above.

I need to realize that what I am actually being asked--and given the grace--to deal with is the stress of waiting.

Just waiting.  You might, if you are a guy or have never had kids, wonder why waiting for a baby (who is certainly going to be born sooner or later) is such a big deal.  Perhaps I have a little more excuse than some in the fact that the Husband has to fly to another state a week from Monday, and I would really rather he be here when I give birth to his kid.  Perhaps it's worse for me because I'm a nurse and I know too much about the risks of common obstetrical procedures, that become more likely as the time creeps by. 

But I really think most mothers who go overdue with a pregnancy feel the same way I do; like there might be something wrong, like there might be something they can do, like maybe it's somehow their own fault that they're being kept apart from their baby.  ("Mental block", or "are you sure you really aren't afraid of labor?")

I miss my baby, although I've never met him; I miss him, and I want to hold him, and waiting is painful.  That's all.

All that emotional mess is what I really have to deal with, not the probabilities.  When I get to the future, I'll be given the grace to deal with it.  As it is, I need to access His grace for the present.

So this evening I've taken a deep breath and have been trying, instead of praying ONLY "Let the baby be born soon!  Soon soon soon!", to pray at least as much "Let me wait well, in a way the brings You glory."

Maybe you could pray that for me too.

Cheers,

Breanna

An Update

So I was going to hold off until I could post a "baby's here" kinda post.

Well, he isn't... it's a bit like he's driving from far away and has hit snowy weather, and will be getting here later than expecting.  In other words, I'm typing this in what my midwife says is labor.  The last labor lasted 36 hours, of which we though 12 or so were wasted at the hospital.  So, after going to the hospital last night to be checked, and finding we'd progressed only a smidge since 9 yesterday morning, we concluded we'd rather sleep in our own bed.  Thus, I am writing a blog post and not sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, listening to other people's babies.

I figured after the last post you all deserved an update. :)

For what it's worth, In My Opinion labor indeed began on Monday, in the hiccupy, stop-and-start way my labors tend to begin.

Also for what it's worth, just because the midwife thinks I'm "in labor" doesn't mean the kid will be born today, or tomorrow... sigh.  I really wish it did.

But God will have him be born at exactly the right time.  We are leaning on the Everlasting Arms, and resting in His sovereignty.  If I thought the universe ran on magic--that I could manipulate God's timing by my actions--I'd be worried, and also I'd be very busy.  As it is, I can (if I remember to resist the temptation to be impatient) just relax, knowing that He's the only one in control anyway.

He did say to ask, though, so ya'll will keep praying that Littleman shows up sooner rather than later, right?  Right.  Three days of low-level contractions are enough for any woman... even spoofy movies weren't really helping last night...and stop calling me Shirley.

Cheers,

Breanna