Hannah's Heartstrings

On November 9, 2017, I began writing this post, tears streaming down my face as I typed. It has taken me a while to be able to come back and finish it. 

***

I've been awake for hours. I'll blame it on pregnancy, even though this sort of thing just seems to happen every now and then. Its ok, honestly, because even though it leaves me incredibly tired, it usually means I get to spend a little time with my husband before he goes to work for the next twelve hours, or I get some "alone time" to reflect in the quiet before Titus wakes up. Both of which have happened this morning.

There have been lots of thoughts swirling in my mind in these early hours. I'm looking forward to Fellows Family Thanksgiving this weekend, and getting to see our Canadians. There's food prep to think about. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I'm quite grateful that I figured out how to transition Titus into sleeping through the night.

But everything pales in comparison to the two overriding themes currently presiding over our family.

There is a new baby growing in my belly.

And our Grandma is dying.

There is such a dichotomy of happy and sad in our hearts right now. We are rejoicing in the home going of a dear 94-year-old saint, a woman who has brightened every life she's touched, all while mourning the end of her beautiful life and dealing with the heartbreak of seeing her mortal body suffer through its decline.

We are also completely thrilled at the new life joining us next year, but sad that he or she will never get to know this amazing person nearly everyone simply called Grandma.

Watching someone go through the end of their life while beginning someone else's life inside me is such a humbling experience. To be this close to both the beginning and the end of creation...it's something quite holy.

We keep saying it won't be long.

It won't be long before I have this precious baby in my arms. It won't be long before I get to go through birth again and Titus gets to be a big brother.

It won't be long before Grandma is home in glory, seeing the husband she hasn't seen in thirty years, her family and friends who've gone before her, and most of all, the Savior she has loved for nearly a century.

There are tears. Lots of tears. And comfort food and comfort pants, thanks to my indescribably amazing sister-in-law, Amy. We are all rallying to support and love each other. Its deep. Its meaningful. Titus brings joy with his infectious toddler energy, and I recount the most recent wonders  of how my miraculous baby is growing to the size of a blueberry this week.

One of the most incredible things to watch during this time has been my mother-in-law taking care of her mother-in-law. I watch her in complete awe sometimes. What love it is that compels a person to take care of someone else so tenderly and intimately! Her tireless attention, generous spirit, and deep, deep kindness makes me hope that I can be even half the woman she is. There are few things in this world that I have seen more admirable than this.

***

Now, two months later...

Life and death surely have collided, but not in the way we were expecting.

Based on what I wrote earlier in this post, Grandma should be in Heaven, and I should be close to 17 weeks pregnant.

But she isn't. And I'm not.

Grandma has somehow hung on to her threads of life for two more months, rising and falling from week to week, and surprising us greatly with her longevity. She has even managed to outlive a friend who was nearly 15 years younger.

And I lost my sweet, tiny baby. I've never experienced a miscarriage before, and hope with all my heart I never have to again. I was 12 weeks along, but the baby was no bigger than 6-8 weeks, so very well may have been gone already when I began began this post, or shortly after.

I miscarried a week before Christmas. Nothing could have prepared me for the process, the grief, the pain, and the confusion of such an ordeal. I am so grateful for the love and support that has carried me through this last month, some of which has come from places I never expected.

This is not going to be a post about how God's ways are higher than our ways, or how He always has a plan. I don't believe that's how God works with us today. I don't believe He micromanages our lives in ways we cannot understand (and I don't want to have any doctrinal debates with anyone over this, so please don't even start).

What I am here to say is that sometimes, life is horrible. We live in a fallen world, where beautiful souls linger in bedridden old age far longer than they want to, and where babies die before they get to live a life. Its horrible. It hurts. It is unexplainable and unfair. The answer to our agonized question of "Why?" is simply that life happens in the worst ways sometimes.

But we do not sorrow as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). We are grateful that this world is not our home, and we look forward to better days in Glory. We know that we have peace no matter what happens, and that God comforts our hearts and gives us the strength we need to get through the worst things life throws at us. He doesn't leave us unprotected. He builds us up in our hearts through His word, giving us wisdom and courage to persevere even when we don't want to.

God did not take my baby so that I could learn some valuable lesson, and He is not leaving Grandma here in pain and confusion for some unknown purpose. But He is loving us, comforting us, and teaching us how to live through tragedy so that we may help others going through the same thing. He does not bring about the pain so that He may teach us, but rather can use it to help us learn when it happens.

This new year is looking different than I thought it would. Right now, instead of looking forward to the halfway point of my pregnancy, I'm healing my body from a traumatic experience, managing deep anxiety, and hoping in the near future to try again for a new baby. And we are still waiting to celebrate Grandma's home going.

Life is crazy, and amazing, and unexpected. And we look to the future with hope and a joy in our hearts that cannot be quenched.


(It doesn't matter to me if you agree or not, and I'll reiterate that my Biblical beliefs are not up for debate. If you have found comfort in some other belief, then good for you. I've spent enough time arguing and studying to know where I stand and right now, I don't need to hash it out again with someone just looking for a fight. Thanks but no thanks.)

"What happened to the girl I married?"

My husband's words cut me deeply, and shook something inside me that had been forgotten. How could I have forgotten so much of myself in such a short period of time?

He fell in love with a bright, confident, excited girl who stood up for what she believed in, thrived on adventure, worked hard, and smiled a lot. Now all that was left was a sullen, anxious, exhausted person who stressed out over literally every single thing and had to give herself pep talks for days before leaving the house.

I don't know exactly where it started. Postpartum was the biggest culprit, but if I look back I can see the fade starting to happen well before that. Having my baby, while the single most amazing event of my entire life, shoved me into a very dark spiral. Everyone talks about postpartum depression and I was prepared for that. But no one talks about postpartum anxiety, and I had no idea how to handle the intense fear, worry, and stress that gripped my heart when I found myself with a newborn baby in my arms.

It hit me hard when Kyle went on a weekend trip with some church friends to a Bible conference in Chicago, and I was home alone for three days with my two month old. I had encouraged him to go, even when he was hesitant to, but as soon as he walked out the door, i felt immobilized and more scared then ever in my life. I could not get my mind to shut off and had worked myself into such a state that by the end of the weekend, I came down with my fourth case of mastitis since Titus's birth. I realized at that point that I had a big problem.

Since then, much of my mental and emotional energy has been focused on figuring out what I needed to do to get better, setting boundaries, simplifying my life and expectations, and really just taking care of myself, which is hard to do as a new mom. But I found that once I really recognized what was wrong with me and put a name on it, that's when the healing began.

Above all, I wanted to become that energetic, confident, bright girl that my husband fell in love with. Not just for him, but also because I had lost sight of so much of myself.

I wanted to feel shiny again.

So one step at at time, I started taking myself back.

I made an effort to quit feeling sorry for myself. Oh, most days there's just no hope where that's concerned. But in little strides, I focused on acknowledging that this is my life now, and it is, amidst all the frustrations and exhaustion, a most beautiful life. I am living my dream, and even if it means less sleep and fewer showers, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing with my life.

We all know that change is a good thing most of the time. We can't progress in life without changing, and we all make choices whether to change for the better or worse.

But what do you do when changing brings on unexpected dynamics in friend and family relationships?

Sometimes we change, and it's the best thing we could have ever done for ourselves, and when we've finally reached the place we've been working so hard to get, we stop and realize we are alone. We look around and see that during our journey, no one followed us. Instead they are miles behind, possibly across an ever widening chasm, and they have no intention of trying to cross it.

Maybe they are happy where they are, and that's great for them. But that doesn't change the fact that suddenly, they don't understand you. They don't get why you had to follow the path you did. Maybe they even feel a little betrayed because you took off in a different direction than they did. All you know is that suddenly, the people you thought were the kind to stick beside you through thick or thin are standing there looking at you with confused eyes and asking why on earth you are where you are.

It is a sad day when you realize you no longer "fit in" with people you loved so dearly. You are no longer part of "the group", no matter how much you've tried to mend hurt feelings and bridge that gap.

You're an outsider.  They have inside jokes that you don't get. You are no longer the person they make time to visit with. Forget being invited to their weddings and birthday parties, or being sought out for lunch some afternoon. They have other people.

So what now? How do you move on? How you do get over being an outcast or even just a lukewarm acquaintance amongst people you were once as close to as brothers and sisters?

Frankly, I'm not sure you do.

I can't say that I have. Every other day it feels like it hits me from a different angle. Despite being the happiest I have ever been in my life, I constantly feel a guilty reminder that I wasn't always this person. I didn't always prioritize my life this way, and now that I do, I pay the price in losing relationships I thought would last a lifetime.

Perhaps I forgot to tell them I was changing. Maybe it was because I didn't even realize it was happening until it already had. But it did happen, and sometimes, it is a very lonely place to be.

The only thing I can do is, moment by moment, lift up my head and look forward. I have new people,  ones that put effort and love into our relationships. I have people that get me and understand where I am now.

No longer can I mourn the loss of depth in the friends who are now barely more than an acquaintance. While there will always be a corner of my heart devoted to the memories of the times we shared together, looking back constantly at something I can no longer be a part of is exhausting. I am tried of being the little girl on the playground, wistfully looking at the group that won't let me play with them.

Life is too short and my days are too precious to waste carrying any guilt over my past or the decisions that got me here. And the people that now value me as a consistent part of their life are too important to waste time chasing down people who have no time for me.

Sometimes you have to let people go. Always love them, but letting them go may just be the most peaceful thing you do in your life.

Focus on the positive and always keep moving forward.

The one thing that struck me deeply when I began taking my brand new baby Titus out into the world was just how stressed out it made me to have to deal with the expectations of others and their potential offense of the way I chose to do things, particularly with breastfeeding.

I am a very modest person. I'm pretty conservative by some standards, less by others. I generally prefer my knees and shoulders covered, wear camis under low cut shirts, but am also totally comfortable in a pair of skinny jeans, so I'm kind of in the middle ground. The catch is that I am very well-endowded in the breast category, so most often, keeping the girls covered is quite the battle.

Throw in a very big, heavy baby boy that loves to pull on my shirt and unlatches multiple times during a feed, a really plentiful milk supply that leaves my big, flailing boy sputtering milk everywhere during a letdown...and modesty becomes harder than an Ultimate Ninja Warrior course.

I was so overly concerned with not offending anyone with the feeding of my child, that I often became wrapped up in an incredible amount of anxiety over who was seeing me breastfeed. Would they be offended if I nursed in front of them? Will my baby make too loud of suckling noises and bother them? And horror of horrors...what if my cover slips off for a moment and someone sees.my.boob?

No wonder I came down with mastitis four times in the first two months of Titus's life.

I made a valiant effort to use a nursing cover, but it only worked when he was brand new. After he was about three months old, it just became more trouble than it was worth. Titus was hot. I was sweating. He hated having something over his face. But I tried because using a cover is what all the best modest moms do, right?

I tried cloistering myself in a room to nurse my baby when I was around people I was told might have a problem with it. Once. I ended up spending several hours hiding in my church's nursery during a fellowship dinner with my one-month-old baby who suddenly wanted to cluster feed. By the time he was satisfied enough to join the dinner, there was hardly any food left, and I was beyond hungry. I scraped together what was left of the salad I brought, and hesitantly let a couple people hold Titus, who ended up with a terrible rash on his sensitive face (probably from their perfume or laundry detergent). Not to mention I was so sad and lonely and felt like no one cared. I went home, cried, and told my husband that I would never again put myself in such a position.

I am not trying to complain. I am not a part of the "free the nipple" crowd. I promise I won't scandalize your husband by flopping my engorged, leaking, sagging breast out over my shirt.

But I'm doing my best.

Really.

Do you think it is my ultimate goal to expose my breasts in public? Do you think I look forward to the moments when I am going to have let my little baby suckle on them while a crowd of people seemingly waits with baited breath to give me their latest bit of parenting advice? Do you think I enjoy the idea that someone might possibly catch a glimpse of one of my most private of body parts, no matter how hard I work to keep it covered?

Yet this is part of the job I signed up for, and I am doing the best I can.

So is every other breastfeeding mom in the world.

Those of us that value modesty and take great pains in our clothing choices are faced with such a challenge when it comes to pulling out one of the parts we strive so hard to cover so that our little ones can have a snack. Its such a natural part of our mothering journeys but such an unnatural part of the standards that we have engrained in ourselves. So with that in mind, is it too much to ask for just a little grace?

Personally, I don't think so.

We are trying here. We are striving hard to not offend you with the feeding of our children. We would totally understand if you got your panties in a wad because we showed no care or respect when we nursed. But that isn't the case.

The fact that we try to hide in rooms alone and forgotten, miss out on fellowship, go hungry, and be covered in sweat and overheating our babies in an effort to use the cover you value so highly should speak loudly of our concern over the modesty issue in our breastfeeding experience.

But we need your help here.

We are doing our part and more. We are going out of our way and being uncomfortable to make sure that you aren't. But no mom should feel as if her friends and family have abandoned her simply because she needs to nurse her baby.

If you have to insist that she leave the room to nurse, can you at least get her a freaking plate of food? How about sit and talk with her so she doesn't feel completely alone?

If you have to insist she use a cover, can you please set up a fan close by so the poor girl doesn't sweat to death?

Or how about just exercise all that Christian love and grace you preach so loudly and try to understand that this little mama is doing her best? Her goal is not to seduce anyone. Her goal is not to be obnoxious. She's sore, sleep-deprived, and already so nervous. Give her a break.

In May, I attended one of my favorite Bible conferences. I had a lot of anxiety leading up to it, because I knew my three month old was going be a handful and want to nurse a lot. The first night, I attempted to sit in the back and nurse him with my cover, and ended up so overheated that Titus projectile vomited so many times that I worried he would get dehydrated. I tried finding other places to nurse, but nothing worked and I just managed to get so distraught because I was missing every message. Talk about discouraging. Finally, I sat myself down on the floor outside the conference room. Close enough that I could hear the speaker, yet far enough away that no one would be bothered by us.

And I nursed. And I listened. And I was filled up.

But you know what the nicest thing was? The amount of people, mostly guys, that offered to get me a chair or a bottle of water. Several asked every time they walked by if I needed anything. A couple people came and sat with me between services. And I finally felt like all that grace and love we believe in so strongly was finally being shown in a real life situation.

I know that grace is not a license to get away with whatever you want. That's not what I'm getting at. I am simply saying that when someone is working so very hard to be modest in a frightfully awkward situation, the very least you can do for her is not pile your personal expectations and standards on her already stressed out shoulders. Show her the same grace you expect, and more. If you've been in her shoes, you should understand. If you haven't, you should mind your own beeswax.

Thank you, and nurse on, sweet mamas!

Perhaps things I wish I'd known is the wrong way to title this post. Some of these thing are ones I knew but for some reason they just didn't click. Other things were stuff I had been told, but dismissed. All in all, having a baby has brought some revelations I was not emotionally prepared for.

Becoming a mother is the most fascinating, exasperating, magical thing I have ever done, and honestly, I really look forward to having another baby so I can experience it in a much more prepared way. But then that baby will probably be completely different than this one, so I'll have a whole new set of things to learn. In the mean time, here's what I discovered with this one.

You do not have to eat for two.
Seriously, this is actually kind of a bad idea. You may feel like you want to eat everything in sight, but unless you are one of those women blessed with the ability to burn fat just by smiling, you will probably regret using your baby as an excuse to binge. As someone who can gain weight just by looking at food, I really wish I'd have exercised a little more common sense when it came to my pregnancy eating habits.

You CAN lift things.
Obviously, don't overdo it. But seriously, you are not an invalid. Nothing is broken, and you are just as strong, if not stronger than you were before you got pregnant. You'll know when its time to take a rest, but sitting around afraid to exert yourself isn't healthy. And when you have another baby, you'll have a toddler that wants to be picked up and hugged, so the whole "don't lift things" myth kinda goes out the window. So lift some crap. It's good for you.

Postpartum is HARD.
This is the most important thing. Pregnancy was amazing. Birth was enchanting. But postpartum was the hardest thing I have ever gone through. I really expected to bounce back a whole lot faster than I did. I found myself dealing with crippling anxiety, four bouts of mastitis, and stronger emotions than I had prepared for. If nothing else, the smashing realization that this tiny little person was completely dependent on ME was enough to throw me for a loop. I mean, it's one of those things that you know, but actually holding this howling, starving, pink little human wriggling in your arms and knowing that its going to need its diaper changed {many times} and it's probably going to be up every two hours...and you're the one it wants...I think I almost hyperventilated the first time I changed my son's diaper.

Only after three months did I start feeling somewhat like a normal human being again. I am now a firm believer in The Fourth Trimester. When I have another baby, I will be telling everyone not to expect anything from me for the next three months. I will be purposely hibernating with my littles, not like this time where my fear of going out kept me home rather than a respect for myself and what I had just gone through. I won't be trying to make an appearance anywhere, travel anywhere, or go places so people can meet the baby. If you want to see us, you know where we live...bring a covered dish.

So if I can say anything to new moms, it is this: lower your expectations. Take it easy on yourself. Wear only stretchy pants and whatever you do, don't try on your pre-pregnancy jeans right away unless you want to cry. You just made a freakin' human and pushed it out of your body. Give yourself at least three months to recover, and shove everyone else's expectations of you down the toilet.

Having siblings/babysitting DOES NOT adequately prepare you for motherhood.
It just doesn't. You can have a dozen siblings and spend countless hours babysitting, but those kids ultimately have a mother, and you are not it. Unless you have literally been the one to to drag yourself out of bed (what feels like hundreds of times), been the only person that little one wants, been its main source of food, warmth, and cleanliness...being a sister or a sitter is just playtime. You may be able to change a diaper, or distract a toddler long enough for your mom to get a shower, but it's just not the same.

Growing up around birth/breastfeeding does not adequately prepare you for actually doing it. 
I have been a part of big families and breastfeeding culture my whole life. So when Titus was born I pulled him close to me and tried to feed him in his first day earthside. When my midwife's assistant came to check up on me less than 24 hours after birth, she asked how things were going. Titus hadn't latched on for more than 5 minutes, and it just felt awkward and hard. I showed her what I was doing, and she proceeded to crawl up in bed with me and spend a good half hour coaching me on the breastfeeding I swore I knew all about. It was simple things I felt like I should have known, but I didn't. Her time with me made all the difference in the world.

Birth was in many ways the same. I had watched all the videos, read all the books, but when it came right down to it, I needed my midwife and my doula there to remind me of things and coach me through the process. They were worth their weight in gold to me.

So regardless of how many siblings you grew up with, hire a doula and make sure you have someone available to check up on you afterwards and help you with nursing or whatever else you may not realize you need help with.

Birth has a mind of its own.
Water breaks, labor happens, baby is born. That's how it goes, right? One thing right after the other, a flurry of activity to bring a baby earthside.

Wrong. Or at least, not always right.

In my case, my water broke, and forty.freaking.hours later, my labor officially started. What?!? I totally did not expect my body to need that much time to get ready for birth.

So make your plan, know what you want in your birth, but don't be surprised if something changes. Roll with it.

People are so opinionated. 
They've got a solution for everything. They know everything. And they make pretty rude comments. They will make comments about your weight, both before and after baby...as if you need any more blows to your self esteem. They will insist that its good for the baby to cry, and tell you that you have to give the baby a bottle whether you want to or not. They will ask stupid questions about your baby's sleep habits, eating habits, and even have the audacity to ask if your tiny little newborn is a "good baby", because newborns are malicious little monsters, right? They will tell you all the things you "need" to do, and will be rather offended if you keep the baby's name and gender a secret. If you tell them your pregnancy is going really well, they will look at you like you are lying to them.

Basically, most people are incapable of just telling a pregnant woman how beautiful she looks, or a new mom how adorable her baby is, and leaving it at that.

People are weird. 
So when I got pregnant, everyone was excited. But after he was born, something strange happened. Our family and a lot of friends were still thrilled, of course. But a lot of people that I thought would be more excited...weren't. Or maybe it wasn't exactly that they weren't excited so much as they just weren't present. They were happy to meet the baby if I showed up somewhere with him. But it was almost as if they were indifferent. It was the weirdest thing I have ever seen.
I don't even know what my advice is here, other than to expect weirdness. There will always be people you thought would be around for you and then it turns out that they aren't. And no one will be as excited for your baby as you will be, so just focus on that.

Babies are weird.
They are the most wonderful weird in the world. But they are truly weird. Just when you think you've got them all figured out, they will change on you. Just when you think they're "on a schedule," forget it, they won't be tomorrow. Just when you think they've stopped breaking out in some frightening skin rash, a new one will flare up because we suddenly can't handle dairy. One day they will be so hungry {all} day and the next, they'll sleep so much you'll wonder if they're sick or something. They find amusement in the silliest things, and have ability to puke the quietest, most unforeseen puke of your life.

You have never known this kind of worry.
I don't care what kind of stress you've ever experienced, it does not compare to the worry you will now have on your heart 24/7 because of this little person. I never knew it was even possible to worry about the things I now worry about. Is he hot? Is he cold? Are his socks too tight? Is he breathing? What if someone with a cold breathes on him? Am I making enough milk? What do I do with him when I have to pee? Oh good heavens someone is holding him...don't freak out, don't freak out, don't.freak.out. He's crying...why is he crying? Did I hurt him somehow? What if I got a little water in his mouth when I gave him a bath...you know secondary drowning in a thing, right? Oh my goodness what if he's drowning? Why is he still asleep? Is HE BREATHING???

A dear friend has told me it gets easier with the second and third kids, so apparently I need to have more babies.

You have never known love like this.
I never knew my heart could explode like this. It will never cease to amaze me how this tiny human can fill me with a love and a joy like nothing I have ever experienced. No matter how long a night we've had, how sore my boobs are, how long its been since I've showered, or how many different types of bodily fluid I'm covered in...all it takes is one beautiful, admiring smile from him and I completely melt. During those long, hard nights, there is always a moment where I cry a little and think, "Little guy, I am not real fond of you right now." And then the morning comes and he starts babbling and cooing to me, and my feeble heart goes, "Aw, its ok. I'll be sleep deprived for you every day for the rest of my life if only you will make that beautiful little noise one more time."

We are always learning, always growing. So take heart lovely mamas. Be prepared. Be flexible. Be gentle on yourself.

It has been just over a week since I brought this little person into the world. One amazing, nerve wrecking, magical week of learning about each other and figuring out our little trio.

Birth was, by far, the most incredible thing I have ever experienced. I did not know my body was capable of such intense power. To be able to watch my body perform the way it did, and to work with it to bring my baby out was something I honestly can't wait to experience again. And being able to do it all within the comfort of my home, with the most fabulous, loving birth team over, was a dream come true.

It started on Thursday morning at 2am. My water started breaking, though not as I had anticipated. I expected it to come out like a fire hose but instead it was just small gushes. Still, I was thrilled. Kyle got up, we changed the sheets, I texted my midwife Nicole, and attempted to sleep some more.

I had a few small contractions here and there, but nothing significant happened until Friday at around 7 pm. Those hours of waiting for my body to kick in were long, disappointing, and not at all what I expected. I figured it would be like all the stories I'd heard...your water breaks, you go into labor, you have a baby. Bam. Done. But no. My body had other plans. Apparently I needed a full 40+ hours for my hormones to build up enough to set my labor into action. I kept Nicole aware of what was going on, and we were prepared to start having me take some herbs and stuff and set things in motion if something didn't happen soon. Thankfully, those real, purposeful contractions started coming around 7pm on Friday night.

By early Saturday morning, it was very clear that I was in labor. My doula, Kimby, and her helper, Meredith, came over at 7am and we began our day together. Early labor was actually quite fun. We joked and talked around contractions, and Kimby made me feel like I was in a spa. She diffused essential oils, massaged my back and feet, and just made me feel so loved and calm. We did a few different things to help with the baby's position, since she was concerned he might have a hand up. Between that and massaging the labor pressure points on my ankles, but the afternoon, I was kicking into high gear.

I was so thankful to be able to do a lot of laboring in the birthing pool. It was so comforting and really took a lot of pressure off my belly. We did the pool all the way up until I was ready to push. I had hoped to give birth in the pool, but since we knew my baby was large and had a big head, Nicole felt it would be best to birth in a different position.

I was not paying very good attention to the clock, so my remembrance of the time of events is a little sketchy. I think it was about 7ish when Nicole arrived and I was in hard labor. I began to feel like pushing so they brought me out of the tub and onto the couch. She had me lay on my back to give baby enough space to get under my pubic bone. With his big head and my small pelvis, this proved to be rather hard. His progress was very slow and I was getting very tired.

I pushed for nearly three hours. The whole time, Nicole massaged my vaginal opening and perineum  with olive oil, stretching me in preparation for my baby's head to come through. This was a lifesaver. I cannot begin to express how thankful I am that she did this! Also after coming out of the pool, my legs were incredibly sore from kneeling so long and supporting myself during contractions, so the girls massaged me with arnica oil. Oh so amazing!

The pushing got really intense and his head rocked back and forth for quite a while. All of a sudden his heart rate dipped and Nicole told me to stop pushing and just breathe. I was focusing so hard on the pushing that I wasn't getting enough oxygen to him. So they worked hard with me to get me to focus on taking long deep breaths and not be so intense with pushing. That was the hardest part! My body took over several times and pushed completely on its own. But the breathing turned out be just was we needed. His heart rate came back up and we kept going.

Nicole ran outside to get her oxygen tank and to call another midwife to come assist, since it was looking like my baby was stuck and they were going to have to reposition me. His head was so big and taking so long to come down that they were getting concerned. But just then, his head started crowning! Kimby told Meredith to run outside and get Nicole as fast as she could. He was coming out!!

The most incredible thing to me was that I did not even feel him come out. My eyes were closed most of the time due to being quite exhausted. I opened them just at the moment his head came out, and saw the explosion of water hit everyone. They told me to push hard and keep pushing. I gave it every last ounce of energy I had and out he came! The next moment I opened my eyes, Nicole was wrangling my slippery baby up onto my belly.

And so, Titus Howard Fellows was born at 11:40pm on Saturday, February 13, 2016.

He took just a few moments to breathe, so we kept rubbing him and talking to him, and soon he was howling his head off. Those first moments of holding him were utterly miraculous.

He turned out to be a pretty big baby, just like Nicole had predicted. He weighed 9 pounds, 4 ounces, was 22 inches long, and his head (drum roll please) was 15 inches in circumference! But thanks to Nicole's perineal massaging and stretching, I only got one tiny little tear that didn't even warrant a stitch. Yay!

There are a few things I'd like to talk about that I have found truly fascinating concerning my home birth experience.

My birth team was amazing. Seriously. Their support and love throughout the whole ordeal was incomparable. I have never felt more cared for in my whole life. I was not just another patient in a bed. I wasn't just another birth. I was important to them. They poured themselves out into me with their loving touch, encouraging words, and strengthening prayers. I could not have done it without them.

My husband was amazing. My sweet, calm spirited, low key, loving man was such a huge help during the hardest part of my labor. He helped massage me, held my hands through the hardest contractions, and encouraged me through every push. When I was so tired, he told me again and again to open my eyes and smile at him. He kept me grounded.

Nicole saved me from a myriad of medical complications. I will never be able to thank her enough for what she did for me. By helping me work with my body to bring my baby out, I was spared a birthing horror story. Had I gone to a hospital, I would have been subjected to a multitude of medical procedures. Because my labor was so long in coming, a hospital would have induced me. Because he was so big, they would have most likely done a c-section, or at the very least, an episiotomy. If I had by some chance been allowed to birth without any of those things, I would have tore far worse, because no doctor or nurse would have taken the time to massage and stretch me like Nicole did.
Don't get me wrong...I am glad that the medical community is there for emergencies, and if something had taken a turn for the worst, Nicole would not have hesitated to get me to the nearest hospital. But working with Nicole allowed me to treat my birth as the most natural experience of my life and to bring my baby calmly and lovingly into this world.

Diet and water intake are really important. My diet has gone through many changes over the years, but it has always remained the healthiest possible. I was vegan through the first half of my pregnancy but after that, felt like I was lacking in nutrients, so I added meat and grains back into my life. I remained sugar free and gluten free, and have been loving it.
As a step to help my seizure issues, I increased my water intake last March and began drinking at least 80-120 ounces of water a day. This made a huge difference in my existing issues, and then when I got pregnant in May, the benefits were phenomenal.
I attribute a great portion of my birthing success to my diet and water intake. Avoiding sugar especially helped, since sugar heightens your pain sensitivities...even fruit in excess can be a problem! A good, healthy, balanced food lifestyle with plenty of good clean water is the best thing you can do do for your body and your baby.


Home birth may not be for everyone, but I praise God every day that I was able to have this beautiful experience! And I could not be more thrilled to have this tiny little person in my arms at last.

In the past months, the internet has been extraordinarily filled with news about the infamous Josh Duggar, as well as others who have taken inappropriate sexual liberties whilst preaching christian values. Alongside all the chatter, the shock, and the judgment of these people, I have seen an uptick in articles, blog posts, and Facebook conversations, discussing how these great men could have possibly fallen. A lot of them stick to the fact that we all have the propensity to sin, and noted that things like this should be warnings to us all. But sadly, this was not all that people had to say.

With the exposure of people like Josh Duggar, Doug Phillips, and Bill Gothard, came a wave of hurt and bitter young people, blasting the world of homeschooling and teachings of purity, modesty, and other values conservative Christians have held dear for ages.

Oh this is nothing new. There's always someone eager to put down the things they have been raised in. There are whole blogs devoted to exposing the hurt that homeschooling has caused, "freeing" young women from the chains of modesty, or providing a place for the bitter souls of rebels to commiserate.

But the words that I saw coming from these people gave me great cause for concern. Suddenly, Josh's upbringing was the reason he molested his sisters and cheated on his wife. Teachings of sexual purity,  chaperoned dates, and not being allowed to kiss his wife till their wedding was the reason he went looking for love in all the wrong places.

People were quick to point at these stories of men's sinful choices and use them to validate their own hurt and bitterness against the world they came from.

"That's why I'm not homeschooling my kids!"
"That's why the purity movement and all teachings of sexual purity are evil!"
"That's why I don't teach my girls modesty!" 
"That's why I don't go to church anymore!"

Basically, the sins of the few condemn the beliefs of the many. Basically, if someone falls off the bandwagon, the entire system is corrupt.

I shake my head in wonder at this concept, and the one ringing thought in mind and heart continues to be, "You're missing the point!"

Homeschooling isn't the problem.
Modesty isn't the problem.
Purity isn't the problem.
Having lots of kids isn't the problem.
The Bible isn't the problem.

These and many other things that often take the blame for the wrong doings of the few are not the problem. They are still the good things they always were, regardless of who uses them wrongly.

The problem is simply that sometimes, even good people make bad choices.

We have all been given a free will and sometimes, we abuse it. Thank God we are saved by grace, and all our sin has been washed away. But that does not excuse us from the truth that we can, and do sometimes, make the wrong decision, and sometimes, our decisions hurt other people.

We need to stop blaming the good, positive things and instead look at the root cause.

If I said that a certain person was a drug addict because they grew up in a public school, would I be even close to correct? Of course not. I would be grasping at straws, looking for something to blame for that person's addiction, other than his or her own personal bad choices.

So why are these situations any different?

Josh Duggar didn't cheat on his wife because he was taught a standard of sexual purity and homeschooled. He cheated on his wife because he let his sinful nature take hold of his life, and ultimately made one of the worse decisions a man can ever make.

Regardless of how we are brought up, we still have to make choices in life. Our parents can instill in us all the good in the world, but that doesn't change the fact that once we reach adulthood, we stand at a fork in the road, and have to make a personal decision as to which way we will follow. It is our responsibility. Our parents have done their job, as best as they know how. Now it is up to us.

Ultimately, we must remember that no belief system is perfect, and no teaching is without its flaws. We must take what we have learned, chew up the meat and spit out the bones, and decide what to apply in our own lives. We cannot blame a belief, a teaching, a group, or a method as a whole when we apply something wrongly and use it as an excuse to bad choices instead of a tool for good.

Instead of pointing fingers and trying to use another person's failings to validate our own personal hurt and bitterness, let us take these stories and learn from them. Let us strive to find the happy medium and take heed to examine our own hearts and motives. Let us pray for the strength and courage to make the right decision. Let us daily work to put away our bitterness, and never let it distract us from good things.

We are better than this.

Our Parents Suffered Too: Thoughts on Modesty, Purity, and the Culture That Shaped Us

So yeah. Its on Netflix, and I've always been curious, so I've been watching it. For some reason I really enjoy medical dramas. I guess they make me feel better about living my healthy lifestyle.

The show has its moments. Its ridiculously dramatic, so much so that Kyle can't even watch it with me because he just laughs at it all and critiques more than normal. The amount of relationship hopping that these characters do...wow. And most of them are so emotionally messed up, its a wonder they even function on a daily basis. But still, the show has its moments.

So naturally there are a few thoughts that have arisen while watching this show. And naturally, I feel the need to blog about them. So here we go...

{WARNING: Spoilers and strong subject matter.}

You do not have the right to demand acceptance/approval.
I'm sorry. You just don't. If you do something that you know people around you are probably not going to be ok with, you need to know that they do not automatically have to welcome your questionable decision with open arms.
Callie knew that her father would not be exactly happy about her dating a girl, and when he was appropriately upset, she instantly threw out the "Why can't you just accept me for who I am?" card. She retaliated by cutting him out of her life. Um, sorry, but he isn't the enemy here! You don't get mad with someone because they choose to stand against something they believe is wrong. You don't get to shove your choice in their face and demand that they be ok with it. It is their God-given right to not approve of choices they believe are wrong. You don't have to agree.
And quit meshing acceptance with approval. They are not the same. I have said this many times before...I can still love you and accept you, but I am under no obligation to approve of the choices you make. It is my right to choose the things I approve of and allow in my life.
So you don't get to demand that.
Get over it.

Sex is not the open door to a relationship.
Literally, like, every single character romance in that show begins with physical contact of some sort. They haven't even gone on a date, and they've slept together. Its so predictable. They see each other, end up attracted, there's kissing, then all of a sudden there's sex. The next day, they are super awkward and maybe, just maybe, they go out on a date and see where it goes from there.
So I have to ask...would they have dated if they hadn't had sex? What if they didn't jump right in bed together, and maybe got to know each other a little bit first? Maybe their relationships would have lasted a little longer.
Sex should not be the first step. Or the second. Or the third. Or the hundredth for that matter. The biggest problem in this world is that we have devalued sex and likened to the importance of a handshake. There are so many steps in a relationship that should be taken before sex is even considered. And yet, so few people take them anymore. Its no wonder that relationships don't last, people are unhappy, children are created with abandon and left with broken families before they can even walk, and no one knows what its like to real, meaningful, committed sex.
Quit using sex as your hello.

Sex is not always awesome.
It actually cracks me up. When Izzie and George got together for the first time, they claimed to have the most amazing sex of their lives. So they fell in love. They started a relationship. But when they went to make love again, they found the magic had gone. They couldn't figure out what was wrong (wasn't hard to figure it out....they were drunk the first time, and barely remembered it, so of course it was amazing). They ended their relationship on the basis that it just wasn't right, and they couldn't make it work. So basically, the sex was bad, so the whole relationship was bad.
Are you serious??
Welcome to the real world. Sex isn't always amazing. Sometimes, it is bad. Sometimes, its nonexistent. But its not the end of the world.

Love doesn't matter if your beliefs don't match
April and Jackson ran off and got married because they loved each other. They hurt several people in the process, but hey, they're in love! Nothing else matters, right?
Fast forward to their first fight. Its a doozy. And guess what they argue about? The fact that she is a Christian and he is not. She wants to raise their children to believe in God and know they are loved by him, but he views her faith in God as ridiculous.
Its moments like that, when you realize that the person you love doesn't hold important the same things you do, that love doesn't matter. All the attraction, romance, fuzzy feelings, and exhilaration...none of it matters.
I once was very interested a guy that believe in God and the Bible very differently than I do. After much deliberation, I chose not to pursue a relationship with him, because I knew that there was no way I could raise children under his belief system. It was a defining moment in my life, because I realized that no matter how much I liked this guy, my beliefs were more important than my emotions.  So several years later when I met Kyle, I knew that I could allow my self to fall head over heels for him, because our beliefs not only matched perfectly, but through knowing him, I was able to expand and develop my beliefs in ways I never imagined. He never made me doubt or feel that what I believed was unimportant. He helped me perfect it. And it was because of that fact that I knew I could love him.
Love and romance are important parts of a relationship, but they should never be what defines it.

***

There are plenty more thoughts that have arisen while watching this entertaining show. These are just a few, but I felt they were rather important. Have a happy day, folks!

During my teenage years, I used to sit around and wonder what God wanted me to do. I would pray fiercely for Him to reveal His will to me and to tell me what to do. There were many times when I became so confused by what was happening in my life, especially at times when I was sure something was God's will, only to watch it vanish before my eyes. But I kept hoping that someday I would figure it out. I just had to be patient. After all, God had a plan for my life, right?

I believe it was March of 2011 when I began communicating with a young man I had met through an online ministry I had begun the fall prior. He was smart, energetic and a very interesting person. He clearly had a good heart and a love for the Lord, from what I could see via the internet, and we agreed  we should meet in person. We planned to meet at the Great Lakes Bible Conference in Wilmot, Ohio, where I had been invited by some new friends in the ministry.

Prior to this, I truly believed that I had actually heard God speak to me and tell me that I was going to marry this man. I believed I had literally heard His voice. I went to that conference believing I was about to meet my future husband. Well, I did, but it was not the one I was expecting.

The young man I had gone to meet was indeed very nice, but wrong for me in many ways, and I could see it almost as soon as we met. I can't really explain why, but I suddenly felt very uncomfortable at the thought of ever being with him. I kept trying to make it work, because I believed it was what God wanted. But no matter how much I tried, it was failing piece by piece.

I had gone there to meet a man who believed he'd come to claim his bride, and in, out of nowhere it seemed, walked my knight in shining armor.

Kyle was totally unexpected to me that weekend. I only barely knew who he was aside from the fact that he looked the spitting image of his brother Curt whom I'd met a few weekends before. The whole time I was trying to make things work with the other guy, I was hearing Kyle's praises sung and seeing his quiet, gentle eyes observing me.

I was terribly confused. What on earth was happening? What about the words God had spoken to my heart? Did that mean nothing? What was God doing?

It was about a week after that crazy weekend that I heard a messaged preached by Kyle's dad that forever changed my life. My family visited their church and Pastor Ted's message became the most influential one of my life.

He spoke clearly and succinctly of how God works in our lives today, and it was unlike anything I had ever heard. He shared how we as the Body of Christ are not be waiting for signs and voices from God to determine what we are supposed to do. We are to use "sanctified common sense", as one wise preacher once said, and he used the Apostle Paul as an example. There were many times in Paul's life where he used his own good judgment and wisdom from the Lord to make a decision. For example, in 2 Corinthians 2:1, Paul "determined with himself" that he should not come unto them. He didn't say "Lord willing." He used wisdom and common sense to determine that it was not a good time to do so. He also used the example in 1 Corinthians 16:5, where the Lord opens a door to Paul, and yet Paul chooses not to go through it (which kinda flies in the face of most Christian thinking).

In rightly dividing the Word, we recognize that in time past, God did indeed move His people where He wanted them to go. The people were under the law, and the law was an "if=then" system...if you do good, then I will bless you.
BUT NOW, something has changed, and as we also recognize that Paul is the apostle to the gentiles and the Body of Christ today, we realize that God has changed the way He deals with those He loves. We are under grace and grace says, "Here is the blessing, now go serve me because you love me. Do what you know is right."

The biggest problem with asking God to reveal His will in our personal lives is that He already has in His Word! We never have to look at our lives and wonder what God is doing, or trying to tell us, because He wrote a book telling us everything we need to know! We never have to wait for His voice, or look for His personal leading in our lives. He has given us all the tools we need. He gives us the wisdom to make good choices, and strengthens our hearts to be able to do the right things. Instead of making some leap of logic in trying to explain what God was doing in my life, I was able to find peace in knowing that He had strengthened my heart and given me the wisdom I needed to make the right choice.

Does this make me deist? Do I believe that my Creator does not in any way intervene in the lives of His creations? No. I do believe that He works in our hearts and minds through His word, and that we can enjoy a very personal, joyous relationship with Him. But I also believe in free will.

I believe that He steps back and lets us make those choices. I believe that the bad things that happen to us are just a result of life here on earth, and are not God trying to get our attention or teach us something. I believe that anything He wants to tell us about our lives here has been spelled out in His Word, and we need never sit in confusion about "what he's trying to tell us."

And it is in understanding this that I have true peace and joy in my life, and was able to evaluate the choices in front of me, and choose wisely the man I would spend the rest of my life with.

There are so many people today fighting tooth and nail against victim blaming, and for the most part, I agree with them. Rape, murder, thievery, bullying, abuse...none of it is ever right. My heart aches for anyone who has had to go through anything like that. I cannot even imagine the pain they feel. The victims of these crimes aren't the ones at fault, and the criminals should be punished.

However there is something that bothers me.

I know that most of the time, things happen completely out of a person's control. They took all the precautions, but something terrible still happened. Innocent people get hurt. I get that.

But then there are the stories where the victim so clearly put themselves in a bad situation, and its those stories where I am confused. Why were you there? Why were you partaking in the substances that made you so out of it that you didn't realize what was happening to you? Why did you associate yourself with people that didn't have your best interests at heart, and only sought to do you harm? Why did you stay? Why? 

When you go somewhere questionable, and there are people you don't know, and alcohol is being consumed along with who knows what...what can you only expect is going to happen? You cannot expect that complete strangers, or even so-called friends, are not going to do something incredibly stupid when they are also completely intoxicated. People are stupid, vindictive and irrational, especially when intoxicated. It was your fault for thinking that they were to be trusted in such a state. And it was your fault for putting yourself in a situation where something like that could happen. Its one thing to become a victim of a crime while just walking down the street, or in your own home...but its another thing put yourself in a questionable and possibly dangerous situation and naively expect nothing bad to ever happen.

And I'm sorry if this hits the wrong nerve, but ladies...don't advertise if you aren't selling. People love to jump on the feminist bandwagon by saying that it should never matter what a woman wears; men should control themselves. I do agree---men need to control themselves. But we live in a world where "hooking up" is common, and there are no boundaries in sex. And when you go to a place where the people and their motives are questionable, and you are showing off everything you've got...you are sending mixed messages. You are saying "Look, but don't touch." "Here's my body, but don't you dare lust over it." "I'm gonna dress like everyone else, but I expect you to treat me with a special level of respect.""Control yourself, even though I'm not controlling myself." You see what I'm saying? Double standards and mixed messages help no one. You can't have a mindset of someone with a higher standard while dressing like someone who is looking to get laid. Like it or not, how we look speaks louder about ourselves than what our words say. Your beliefs and goals get lost in what your appearance is shouting. Your closest friends may know you differently, but someone who has no thought towards your well-being and only has one goal in mind doesn't care.

One more topic that irritates me is the constant mantra, "Its never ok for a man to hit a woman." True...but its also never ok for a woman to hit a man. Men just don't get away with it as easily because they are bigger and stronger. We hear all the stories of women being physically, emotionally, and sexually abused by men. But do we ever hear the stories of men being abused by women? They happen, especially emotionally, because women are far better at striking the heart and being emotionally vindictive than men are. Men generally show rage and anger physically, whereas women use their words to cut and damage. We are so quick to tell the story of the wife who suffered years of abuse from her husband, but dismiss the idea of a husband abused by his wife with "Well, he must have deserved it." Wait...isn't that the same argument that society has been fighting with blaming the female victims of rape? Are we just turning the tables now?

Ok so maybe that was three things wrong with telling the victim "Its not your fault." But you get the idea. And I'm sorry if this comes across as judgmental, but this is what is real and raw in my heart. This is what the media will never discuss, because it goes against every progressive, feminist, liberal agenda out there.

A crime, no matter who was at fault, is never right. It is never justified, and there is always pain. But someone is always going to try to pin blame, and there are always going to be three sides to a story...yours, mine, and what really happened. The point that I would like to get across here is this: protect yourself, don't put yourself in possibly bad situations, surround yourself with people you know you can trust, and keep your hands to yourself.