Ann Voskamp suggests looking for daily gifts from God in the little things. A simple pat of butter can be viewed with gratitude and seen as a loving reminder that God cares. In Voskamp's "Joy Dare Collection" challenge, she lists "3 hard eucharisteos" (three things for which it is hard to give thanks) as a prompt for seeking God's gifts on April 16th. On that day, my daughters were sick with a cold (which they are still getting over). Consequently, sleep was even more lacking than usual, and my husband was primarily taking care of our wakeful, snotty, needy toddler at night since I'm still caring for our two-month-old who wakes a couple of times a night anyway. My three gifts from God that day were:
1. Two sick girls. A reminder that I'm not in control of their health, let alone their choices as they get older. I can do all I can to be a good mom and set a good example, but that's it. God holds them and loves them even more than I do.
2. Sleepless nights. A reminder that God sustains me through the times when I don't think I have strength to get anything done. He gives grace for each moment, including the sleep-deprived ones.
3. Not being able to sleep with my husband (cuddles being an important way I feel connected to him). A reminder that my ultimate comfort, security, and encouragement come from God, not my husband. I can tend to rely too much on my husband for support, though he is just a person, and cannot take the place of God in meeting every emotional need that I have.
Apr 21, 2018
Mar 24, 2018
Who's in Charge Here?
I would like to have the authority in my own life to say to my child, "Do not be sick with hand, foot, and mouth disease," or, "get rid of that jaundice right now, young lady." However, the power to control whether or not my children are ill does not fall to me.
The first week home with baby number two (S), my first daughter (R) contracted hand, foot, and mouth disease. We were afraid it was strep throat at first, but when my husband took her to the doctor we found out (to our relief) that it was this scary-sounding but relatively non-threatening disease that caused her to have bothersome red spots all over her hands, feet, face, and hip areas. She was not contagious to adults, and there was little risk that infant S would be in contact with R, which was why we were so relieved. However, there was still a lot of work and trouble associated with the situation. R had fever for a couple of days, she didn't feel well, and we had to prevent her from cuddling her new baby sister. Meanwhile, baby S also had some issues related to jaundice concern. Her pediatrician asked us to get her tested and re-tested for bilirubin levels every day for the first week of her life, which meant trips back to the hospital every day for a week after having finally been discharged after spending two nights there following her birth (two instead of one because I was group B strep positive).
All in all, the first week home with our new baby was not the experience I had desired. I'd imagined lots of rest and cuddles, not lots of car trips with an infant, insanely messy breastfeeding in public, a whining, tired toddler, and little opportunity for much-needed naps for myself.
That week, my Bible study teacher shared her memory verse with me: Matthew 21:23b says, "By what authority are You doing these things, and who gave You this authority?" The Pharisees were challenging Jesus with these words. Of course, the questions are provocative; since I believe Jesus has ultimate authority, given that He is God, I have no right to question Him in such a way. Meditating on this verse was the very thing I needed that week. As I prayed for help to deal with the tiredness and the two needy children, sobbing, I submitted the time to God. He is the authority of my life, not me.
Remembering Who is in charge gave me comfort that week, but remembering that my life was not all bad helped, too. Around that same time, I was reading the section of the Martin Luther biography by Eric Metaxas that describes Luther traveling many miles on foot to a meeting that could easily have resulted in his own execution by burning. Luther was (understandably) so anxious he had severe stomach pains and was unable to continue walking at one point. By comparison to this extreme hardship, my life was peachy! A little perspective can work wonders. Also, there were some enjoyable things about the week: I got to have lunch out with my husband after a couple of the trips to the hospital, toddler-free (since my mom was watching R for us), and all of those car-rides and dealings with the "outside world" probably helped me get back to a feeling of reality and normalcy after the strangeness of the two-night hospital stay.
In the end, God is good and He knows what He is doing. "Trust in Him at all times, O people; Pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us," says David in Psalm 62:8. Truly God wants to hear from us no matter what emotions we are feeling (including anger or panic), but He also wants us to submit ourselves to His authority and rest in the fact that our peace is ultimately in Him, not in circumstances going exactly how we want.
The first week home with baby number two (S), my first daughter (R) contracted hand, foot, and mouth disease. We were afraid it was strep throat at first, but when my husband took her to the doctor we found out (to our relief) that it was this scary-sounding but relatively non-threatening disease that caused her to have bothersome red spots all over her hands, feet, face, and hip areas. She was not contagious to adults, and there was little risk that infant S would be in contact with R, which was why we were so relieved. However, there was still a lot of work and trouble associated with the situation. R had fever for a couple of days, she didn't feel well, and we had to prevent her from cuddling her new baby sister. Meanwhile, baby S also had some issues related to jaundice concern. Her pediatrician asked us to get her tested and re-tested for bilirubin levels every day for the first week of her life, which meant trips back to the hospital every day for a week after having finally been discharged after spending two nights there following her birth (two instead of one because I was group B strep positive).
All in all, the first week home with our new baby was not the experience I had desired. I'd imagined lots of rest and cuddles, not lots of car trips with an infant, insanely messy breastfeeding in public, a whining, tired toddler, and little opportunity for much-needed naps for myself.
That week, my Bible study teacher shared her memory verse with me: Matthew 21:23b says, "By what authority are You doing these things, and who gave You this authority?" The Pharisees were challenging Jesus with these words. Of course, the questions are provocative; since I believe Jesus has ultimate authority, given that He is God, I have no right to question Him in such a way. Meditating on this verse was the very thing I needed that week. As I prayed for help to deal with the tiredness and the two needy children, sobbing, I submitted the time to God. He is the authority of my life, not me.
Remembering Who is in charge gave me comfort that week, but remembering that my life was not all bad helped, too. Around that same time, I was reading the section of the Martin Luther biography by Eric Metaxas that describes Luther traveling many miles on foot to a meeting that could easily have resulted in his own execution by burning. Luther was (understandably) so anxious he had severe stomach pains and was unable to continue walking at one point. By comparison to this extreme hardship, my life was peachy! A little perspective can work wonders. Also, there were some enjoyable things about the week: I got to have lunch out with my husband after a couple of the trips to the hospital, toddler-free (since my mom was watching R for us), and all of those car-rides and dealings with the "outside world" probably helped me get back to a feeling of reality and normalcy after the strangeness of the two-night hospital stay.
In the end, God is good and He knows what He is doing. "Trust in Him at all times, O people; Pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us," says David in Psalm 62:8. Truly God wants to hear from us no matter what emotions we are feeling (including anger or panic), but He also wants us to submit ourselves to His authority and rest in the fact that our peace is ultimately in Him, not in circumstances going exactly how we want.
Feb 24, 2018
Birth Story Two
I woke up at 4 a.m. to use the bathroom as usual, and noticed some very watery discharge in my liner and dripping from me. Not entirely sure what it was, but seeing that more kept coming, I changed into a pad just in case and went back to bed. "I think my water broke," I told my husband. He reassured me the best thing to do was try to get sleep either way. About an hour later, I woke him up again: "I'm having contractions." "Should we call your parents?"
So my second labor began with my water breaking (later confirmed at triage in the hospital), which I never expected. I called the midwife at about 8 a.m. and she suggested we should come on in to check if my water had indeed broken, because if so she wanted to admit me and start the antibiotic (I was GBS positive). We had wanted to labor much longer at home, but this circumstance made the decision for us, and we went earlier than we otherwise would have. As it turned out, I'm glad we got there when we did. Triage takes longer than you think, and by the time I got to the labor room, the contractions were quite uncomfortable - a car ride at that point would have been challenging!
Overall, the labor took about eight hours (shorter than my first by four hours), if you only count how long I was really feeling contractions. I want to highlight my major takeaways for the sake of remembrance:
When I called the midwife I found out my favorite out of five was the one on call that day (an answered prayer that seems like a small thing, but which gave me great joy that day).
Anti-nausea medication during early labor gave me huge relief and I never had to throw up.
I never had my cervix checked until my husband and I wanted to; because my water had broken, the midwife admitted me without checking, and she didn't feel a need to check unless we wanted to know. When we finally did ask her to check, I was dilated to a six, which meant that most likely the majority of the time of labor had passed already. Good news!
Laboring in the shower was a huge pain reliever! Almost unbelievably so!
I still hate having a contraction on an exercise ball (something I tried in both labors).
Having just a saline lock and only intermittent fetal monitoring made me feel very free.
The squat bar for pushing turned out to feel awkward, and even though I knew the position to get in to use it, I could not seem to get myself into that position. I ended up turning around and lying on my chest on the bed with my knees bent under me (basically on all fours, but with the bed raised where my hands were so that my chest was more supported. I didn't know the bed could do that!). The nurse handed me a pillow, and I wrapped my arms around it and did my breathing (slash loud groaning and/or yelling) into it. That pillow added such a sense of security. After three pushes, baby girl number two was out!
The midwife said I'd been pushing for a while before that, when I was still standing and leaning on my husband through contractions. She kept telling me I could push if I wanted to, but that I didn't have to. What an awesome experience, having an advocate there who encouraged me to listen to my body's cues and not force anything.
I kept telling my husband "I love you" after getting through each contraction for the latter part of labor. I felt so close and connected to him throughout the whole experience (something that I remember from the first labor as well). He kept telling me I was doing a great job, that I could do this, that I was almost done, and other encouraging things. He let me hold and lean on him as much as I needed. He was an amazing coach and source of comfort, security, and calm. I also cried a tiny bit a few times, which always seemed to help relieve any fear or anxiety I had at the moment.
This labor was full of gifts from a gracious God: my favorite midwife, daytime labor, low traffic on Sunday morning on the way to the hospital, only one cervix check, a redeeming experience with the pushing stage (after having an emotionally terrible one in my first labor).
So my second labor began with my water breaking (later confirmed at triage in the hospital), which I never expected. I called the midwife at about 8 a.m. and she suggested we should come on in to check if my water had indeed broken, because if so she wanted to admit me and start the antibiotic (I was GBS positive). We had wanted to labor much longer at home, but this circumstance made the decision for us, and we went earlier than we otherwise would have. As it turned out, I'm glad we got there when we did. Triage takes longer than you think, and by the time I got to the labor room, the contractions were quite uncomfortable - a car ride at that point would have been challenging!
Overall, the labor took about eight hours (shorter than my first by four hours), if you only count how long I was really feeling contractions. I want to highlight my major takeaways for the sake of remembrance:
When I called the midwife I found out my favorite out of five was the one on call that day (an answered prayer that seems like a small thing, but which gave me great joy that day).
Anti-nausea medication during early labor gave me huge relief and I never had to throw up.
I never had my cervix checked until my husband and I wanted to; because my water had broken, the midwife admitted me without checking, and she didn't feel a need to check unless we wanted to know. When we finally did ask her to check, I was dilated to a six, which meant that most likely the majority of the time of labor had passed already. Good news!
Laboring in the shower was a huge pain reliever! Almost unbelievably so!
I still hate having a contraction on an exercise ball (something I tried in both labors).
Having just a saline lock and only intermittent fetal monitoring made me feel very free.
The squat bar for pushing turned out to feel awkward, and even though I knew the position to get in to use it, I could not seem to get myself into that position. I ended up turning around and lying on my chest on the bed with my knees bent under me (basically on all fours, but with the bed raised where my hands were so that my chest was more supported. I didn't know the bed could do that!). The nurse handed me a pillow, and I wrapped my arms around it and did my breathing (slash loud groaning and/or yelling) into it. That pillow added such a sense of security. After three pushes, baby girl number two was out!
The midwife said I'd been pushing for a while before that, when I was still standing and leaning on my husband through contractions. She kept telling me I could push if I wanted to, but that I didn't have to. What an awesome experience, having an advocate there who encouraged me to listen to my body's cues and not force anything.
I kept telling my husband "I love you" after getting through each contraction for the latter part of labor. I felt so close and connected to him throughout the whole experience (something that I remember from the first labor as well). He kept telling me I was doing a great job, that I could do this, that I was almost done, and other encouraging things. He let me hold and lean on him as much as I needed. He was an amazing coach and source of comfort, security, and calm. I also cried a tiny bit a few times, which always seemed to help relieve any fear or anxiety I had at the moment.
This labor was full of gifts from a gracious God: my favorite midwife, daytime labor, low traffic on Sunday morning on the way to the hospital, only one cervix check, a redeeming experience with the pushing stage (after having an emotionally terrible one in my first labor).
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