Apr 5, 2013 | In the Name of Love, The Parenthood
Seems I’ve gotten a little behind on sharing the monthly photos of the new addition around here. I keep on keeping on (with the photos) because I love knowing our precious family further away enjoys seeing the month-by-month progress of our sweet small people. Love you folks… thank you for your patience… I tell you, I understood and believed before, what Psalm 127:3 says about children:
“Children are a gift from the Lord;
they are a reward from Him.” {NLT}
But after walking through the hardest month of my life last month, I just had no idea how much of a gift they could be.
I took these pictures of this little girl in February, when life seemed a little simpler. The task fell to me again, though I’d always defer to the Hubs’ superior camera skills, because he was out of town for a few days. Perhaps since things went will with the two months photos, the Belle trusted me this time, and things continued to go well…
The thing I learned about children being a gift, in the time that followed this picture-taking session, had a lot to do with appreciating for new reasons that irresistible joy that comes so naturally to children.
On those long, sad days in the hospital, while I was just waiting and hoping I’d get to see my Dad again this side of heaven, this little girl was a very visible and constant reminder that life does keep going, life will keep going, even if there is loss.
She brought joy to other people in the hospital, perhaps in similar positions to ours, waiting and wondering.
She already started living up to the things I said before about her name. Meaning “Beautiful Altar,” I was hoping she would be a place where heaven and earth collide.
And in that week of heavy grief, where I was weighed down with emotions I didn’t know my soul was capable of enduring, leaving the room where my Dad was dying, returning to the lobby, where she was learning and smiling and growing and beginning… it was hard, it was beautiful.
It was like seeing all of time in a single moment, like watching a drop of water fall to the ground in slow motion. This life and my Dad’s collided for such a brief period of time. He bounced her on his knee, made her giggle and smile. She returned the favor with peals of laughter and grins, her gift to him was joy. I thought about whether he’d be able to dance at her wedding.
And the gift that children are has everything to do with hope, hope for the future. When times are hard and people are discouraged, they often say “I don’t want to bring children into this world.” Children begin to be seen as burdens to bear, small people who will soon need college educations and car keys.
But an aging society is not a healthy one. Kids are the future innovators, the brave ones who’ll plow forward when we’re gone. They’re a gift to us, and we love them and teach them and grow them and then give them as gifts to the world, in hopes that by being here, they’ll make it a better place.
Heaven touched Earth as this precious little girl looked up at me with smiles, with trust, with the kind of faith that I want to have. Sure she cried some in that lobby, fighting falling asleep in a new environment, waiting for me to come back from a conversation with doctors when it was time for her to eat.
We all cry sometimes.
But that irresistible joy, her peaceful nature, her happy hope, were a gift to my soul to remind me there’s still so much good ahead. Somehow, just maybe, the best is yet to come.
I didn’t know when she arrived last November, full of need, to be fed and held and changed and clothed and loved, that I might turn out to be the needy one sooner than I expected. And she became a gift from God at a time when I needed Him to touch my life in the most tangible, physical, I can hold onto this until I can hold onto hope again way.
For all these months I might not have thought too much about it, might not have observed. But how fitting, all along, I have been receiving this unwrapped gift from heaven, and adding my own bow.
To God be the glory.
xCC
Jan 26, 2013 | Hometastic Goodness, The Good Word, The Parenthood
Yesterday I shared about a book called Organized Simplicity. It has been an inspiration to me in a season of wondering how I will ever manage to manage my household and do it well.
Yes, manage to manage. To manage to manage. I could go on.
Today I thought I’d share some practical steps I’ve taken to change the way I do things around la casa de Collie. They are making a big difference – even if they’re just slightly de-whelming my own over-whelmed feelings about the possibility of doing this motherhood gig well – and for that I am grateful.
1. Decide What to Do With The Day
This seems totally obvious. But, to my credit, before I started this motherhood gig, for all but one year of my life from the age of four, an educational system was deciding what I was going to do with my day. I didn’t really give my time management a lot of thought, because my time pretty much surrounded school, school work and the jobs I was loafing around at in between. Four years into motherhood, I have finally begun devoting time to deciding what I do with my day. Thanks to inspiration from the book and a Daily Docket download over at SimpleMom.net, I’m taking five or ten minutes either first thing in the morning or the night before, to actually figure out what the most important things are that I want to try to accomplish with the day I’ve been given.
I have to take a little extra time to emphasize this one, because, if you’re anything like me (do I ask that question every week or what?) you have found yourself standing in the center of any given number of rooms in your house, with a dazed, deer-in-headlights look on your face, thinking hmm, I have twenty minutes before the kid will wake up or the dryer will buzz or … what should I do with them? And that is when the list comes to the rescue. Having some purposeful organization to how I’m spending my time is nothing short of magical. I get to the end of the day, look at some checkmarks and breathe a happy sigh that I know what I’ve accomplished. This simple action helps me make decisions about what to do next all day long, without having to stop and think it all over again. And when I haven’t checked something off, well, it helps me get started on the list for tomorrow.
I am also learning to breathe and celebrate, with grace, the days where nothing on the list is going to get checked off. Because that’s okay. More on that another day.
2. Think About the When
You know what really stinks? When poor scheduling means you not only get your own day off to a bad start, but you start your spouse’s day badly for him, too. I have been doing this kind, kind gesture for the Hubs almost once a week on a Tuesday or Wednesday, when he needs to hop on his bike by 8:15 to get to Greenville for staff meeting or work at 9:00. It really stinks to give him a kiss and send him out the door knowing I’ve stressed him out by making him late because I am not managing things well.
There was an obvious and simple solution — but it took me taking a step back and, um, using my brain…, to see it. Take a shower before the kids wake up, or the night before. Lightbulb! This obvious little tweak to the system made a huge difference — the first day I rearranged things to make sure I wasn’t going to make him late for work by asking him to keep an eye on the boys while I got my shower, he specifically thanked me before walking out the door. It went something like this:
This is wonderful. It’s 8:12 and I have everything together and I’m not rushed heading out the door. Thank you very much.
That was so worth it. All of this boiled down to a basic principle? Don’t just think about what you’re doing with your time – think about when you’re doing it, and whether that’s the best choice.
3. I’m Continuing with Reduced Poo
I mentioned once ages ago — you might remember — that I decided to try going no-poo. If you have no idea what I’m talking about you’re probably very concerned, so let me set you straight. You see, it basically seems — I’m not usually one for sticking it to the Man but hear me out — that we have become almost unanimously convinced by Johnson & Johnson and associates that we need to shampoo our hair at least every couple of days, if not daily, in order to not be gross in public. At least three-quarters of us think this, I think. Half the time. But it turns out, most hair types can completely skip shampoo all together {yes really} and use baking soda and vinegar to clean their hair and — get this — perhaps only need to do that every five to seven days or so. Yeah. Is your head spinning? Because mine was. Apparently that shampoo in your shower is stripping the natural oils in your hair, encouraging them to overproduce, and therefore causing you to need to wash more often. Maybe that’s the deal, anyway.
I decided to try going no-poo after reading a fabulous post by Beth Dreyer about going no-poo. I was preggers at the time, and had a wedding in South Africa and another in Scotland ahead of me, so after trying for a couple of weeks, I decided it might be a rough time to tinker with the baking soda and vinegar experience in order to figure out exactly what made my hair happy. Hormonal imbalances and all. But in the process of at least beginning to stretch it out and try, I figured out that I can actually go about five days before I need to shampoo my hair. I think it would be longer if it wasn’t for the bangs/fringe I am usually sporting. I am pondering whether keeping the fringe is a high maintenance decision. {Thoughts?}
Now if you haven’t thought about this before, let the wheels spin for a minute. I am going to try the baking soda and vinegar routine when I run out of shampoo again, but even just washing my hair once every five days or so has a ton of magical consequences. I save a ridiculous amount of time in the shower, using a blow dryer, and using straighteners. I save money on shampoo and conditioner and electricity and I use less hot water. Boom. I save time in the store looking for shampoo and conditioner. Our mornings are a whole lot smoother. It works out better for me to shower the night before since I don’t have to wash my hair and worry that the blow dryer will wake a baby. I’m reducing the number of chemicals I’m scrubbing into my epidermis on a regular basis. I could keep going, but you get the idea.
So, do so homework about going no-poo, or at least consider the possibility that you are washing your hair a lot more often than you need to. And — don’t let this completely blow your mind — if you have dry scalp, it could be that instead of washing your hair more often with Head & Shoulders, you actually need to wash it and blow dry it less. And that could help more. For less. Wow.
4. A Chore Chart for the Bear
On the parenthood front, one little adjustment has been a really good one. I started a chore chart with the Bear. I personally insisted to myself that I had to come up with chores that would make less and not more work for me. Right now he unloads the silverware from the dishwasher, usually in the morning before preschool. I pull a chair up to the drawer and he goes to town. He also gathers the laundry from our bedroom and his bedroom into a big laundry bucket he can carry, and takes it to the laundry room before preschool. He tidies up his toys before nap time and before bed time, and he helps me set the table at dinner time.
Good thing North Carolina child labor laws are lax — he earns a penny for each of those chores. We put a sticker on the chore chart and at the end of the week, we count up his chores and put money in three jars — the “God” jar for the 10% he’ll bring to church, the “Save” jar which he will have to hold onto for a while, and the “Spend” jar which he can blow on race cars or bubble gum if he wants to. He is four — and introducing the concept of hard work earning a fair reward, counting and math, spending and saving and giving — it is all good stuff. He loves it and I love that it is much easier to get his help now. And already having the laundry right there every day when it’s laundry time…man that does help. He does other things that will not count towards the chore chart, because I also want him to understand that he’s part of the team and will have to help around here. I digress. Let’s move on.
5. Decide to Make a Plan
One of the most insurmountable challenges I’ve been forced to face in motherhood is trying to keep a reasonably tidy home. It is hard for me because I hate cleaning more than I like the results after I’ve cleaned. But obviously, it has to be done. So I spent some time deciding what the things are that need to happen at least every couple of weeks in order to not have anyone call Social Services because my children are living in a dump. I assigned one of those tasks to each weekday, and they rotate on a bi-weekly basis. For example, I mop the kitchen floors on Mondays (every other Monday), wash our sheets and towels every other Tuesday (the kids’ on the opposite Tuesday), clean the surfaces in the bathrooms every other Wednesday, and so on.
This works really well for me — even if I miss something one week and don’t manage to get it done on a free day later in the week (I don’t have a set chore on Fridays or the weekends) at least I know it’ll come around again in two weeks, which is much better than knowing that from probably October to early January, my kitchen floor got mopped a total of never. Mmmhmm.
6. Choose your Almost-Always’s
Along those same lines, I have repeatedly discovered that if I aim to do just one load of laundry a day every day except Sunday, I will manage to stay on top of our laundry and it will never feel like a mountain is piling up on top of the basket that sits in my laundry room. It’s okay if I miss a day, generally it will still work out, as long as I aim to just regularly get something started once everyone who showers has showered in the morning. So that’s an almost-always for every morning.
7. Divide your Work (and Conquer)
There are some other obvious chores that happen regularly around here. Exhibit A, I make bread in our breadmaker, usually three or four times a week. This was HH’s suggestion, ages ago, that I finally implemented at the beginning of this year: when I’m measuring the first loaf of the week out and dumping everything in the breadmaker, I measure another two loaves into random jars or containers so that I don’t have to make that big mess, get everything out and measure it all over again, and again. This is another one of those things that seems so simple and obvious, but it just took me deciding to actually do it to realize how much it helped. Now when it’s time to start a loaf I just have to measure and warm up the milk, cut in a little butter, dump in everything that’s already measured and add the yeast. Four minutes tops. And every time I do that, I brings me a heap of joy. It’s like the easy button at Staples. But real.
8. Hit the Sack, Jack
Yes, I’m a grownup and I can do whatever I want. But. I am a lot like my kids. If I let them stay up super late, they would. They’d fall asleep eventually, sure, but they would be worse for wear the next day. So. Me too. The Hubs and I have purposed to be much more disciplined about getting to bed this year. We decided to close up shop and head to the bedroom, aiming to be in bed by 9:15. From there we have about thirty minutes of Bible reading/quiet time, and we plan to turn the lights off at ten. We usually won’t start watching something if it’s going to take us past 9 pm. (We don’t have cable — we just have Amazon Prime. I can talk about that decision another day if you’re interested.) Now do we do this every night? No. But is it great when we do? Yes.
9. Make Dinner, Double or Nothing
I have become much more disciplined in the way I’m doing meals now. For a long time, I’ve planned ahead the week’s menu in order to know what to shop for. But my love for spending time in the kitchen meant I generally planned a different meal every night. And I spent the leftovers at lunch time. I am now realizing how much better life is in general if I make my time work for me in every area I can. That means I aim to put at least three meals on the menu which I can double. I try to divide what we’re eating — at least in my mind — to make sure we don’t overeat and then not have enough to enjoy the meal again. If the meal is freezable, I will freeze it for another week. If not, we will probably eat it again two nights later. This simple decision is stretching my budget in a very good way, because the things I do for lunch are usually cheaper than the things I do at dinner time, and I am spending less time in the kitchen, less time running the oven, stove, kettle, etc. and less time doing dishes. Can I get an Amen?
10. Reconsider your spaces.
Just before the Belle arrived, we got on a kick where we began rethinking and rearranging some different areas in our home. We thought about things that were a problem and why, and we began working toward solutions. Having our big Mac (the computer hub of Quiver Tree Photography) in the living room where the boys play was just causing a lot of issues (Tank, don’t touch…Tank…Tank!) and it was also a pretty significant risk. Hello, toy car crashing into a monitor… So we moved things around so that it could sit in its own little space in a different room. HH, being the hero he is after all, spent his bonus on an island for the kitchen – workspace has been an issue for me, and I had new pots and pans from my brother and nowhere to put them. We put together a 9-cube storage organizer thing to house the boys’ toys — and all of a sudden life started making more sense.
These simple changes sparked a number of other simple changes. From making the decision to actually complete some projects that will result in my being happy in the spaces where I spend 95% of my every day, to rearranging drawers and cupboards based on criteria that actually make sense and make them more functional — before I’d even started Tsh’s masterpiece of a book, this work was well underway, thanks to us starting with baby steps and moving forward.
Sometimes it’s daunting and overwhelming to think about rearranging things to make your home a more useful place, but it helps to remember getting started is usually the hardest part — just bite the bullet and start somewhere!
So those are a few simple practicalities that have helped get my year off to a good start. Ann Voskamp shared an amazing 25 Point Manifesto for Staying Sane in 2013 that I think you should check out.
How are things going for your 2013? Any tips you want to share?
xCC
Jan 14, 2013 | The Parenthood
Here’s the thing. I don’t know if it’s socially acceptable, but I’m starting to think I’m going to have to blame motherhood for my absent-mindedness for the next… twelve years or so. Anybody else feel that way? Like, the more kids I get the less brains I’ve got to manage ’em? If those two numbers are inversely proportionate, that could be problematic.
Maybe I should’ve finished my PhD.
Anywho. The following two bloopers occurred in my personal recent history, and I am claiming motherhood as if it’s the Fifth Amendment. Instead of the fifth commandment. Which isn’t relevant here. Necessarily.
First, the 12th of December came around, and I felt certain it was time to take the Belle’s one month photos. {Yes! The Belle! Do you like her nickname? I think it has a nice ring to it. ha! But I think I like it with the e so I have to fix that little graphic over there. Thanks HH.} Perhaps it was because in my mind for the better part of nine months November 12th was her due date. (Ya know, in contradiction to what the OBGYN said.) Or maybe it was because the 12th of December was my late grandmother’s birthday. Or it could’ve been because it was almost a Thursday, and the Bell arrived on a Thursday… ya know, I don’t think there’s a good explanation.
However it is appropriately categorized, let’s agree that I dressed and prepped a baby for photos just a little ahead of schedule. And only realized it a few hours after we took the pictures.
Then.
I sat on those three days early one month old photos of the Belle, for — you guessed it — one month. Did I forget? Maybe. Did I have other stuff going on? Fo sho. Did I not want to bother the Hubs who is constantly taking and editing pictures like it’s his job? Because it is? Um, probably.
But, better late than never, I am happy to share the shots with you — of the darling little girl who has stolen the hearts of each of us — including the older older brother who reads and sings and dances Gangnam Style for her. And the younger older brother who insists on regularly giving her kisses on top of the head without removing the pacifier from his mouth.
What’s not to love?
She smiles and stares very pleasantly.
She sneezes with the grace of Jackie O.
She snuggles up to the calabash rattle from South Africa for the sake of giving perspective of how she’s growing just like her Mama told her to.
And when you a pay her a complement, she humbly replies with a face that says… Who me?
Our little dollbaby has brought us heaps of joy in a tiny package.
And look — you can compare last month to this month with the perspective-creating calabash rattle from South Africa!
So there you have it folks! {And especially the far-away-family we are thinking of who haven’t met out sweet little Belle yet…} That’s our darling precious angel pumpkin dumpling one month old, who, as it just so happens, will need to be photographed as a two-month-old… tomorrow.
xCC
Jan 1, 2013 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
If you’re anything like me — and in this case, I hope you’re not — you might look back at the year that has passed with a sort of “harumph” in your heart. A lot of good things happened, {for us, some great things — we have a new daughter!} but there are some things that you wish were different. There were some things you were hoping to accomplish, perhaps habits you were hoping to make or break, things you were hoping you could change and you might be looking back and feeling a little like you fell short.
After considering the previous year, the first word that came to mind for me to think on and aspire toward in the New Year was ‘discipline.’ This probably gives you an idea of the conclusions of my self-assessment for 2012. Maybe it’s a pattern — at this time of year, while everyone is resolution-ing and celebrating, I often find myself looking at the door that has closed and I struggle not to mourn the opportunities I feel like I missed. The could’ves and should’ves come to town, just for the party in my head.
Or maybe I’m just sad because I like Christmastime so much and now it’s far away again.
But a great reminder refreshed my soul again this morning. I’m still trying to let it settle in — still hoping my heart will absorb the hope of grace. This is the whisper of it, from a New Year’s three years and 8,000 miles ago. I thought I’d share it again today, so that it might encourage you again, or for the first time.
From the Archives:
I was thinking of sharing an encouragement with you about the New Year, and perhaps challenging you to consider really really diving into God’s Word in a new way. Spending time in it every day, and allowing it to transform your life. But then for a couple of days I was struggling, not really able to put my finger on the source of it, but just ill-at-ease about life in general, and fearful awake and asleep. It took me a while to figure out what was really going on in my heart. I could see places where I was afraid when I didn’t need to be. I could see fear instead of faith leading my course of action. And I could see that I was ultimately struggling to trust God, and therefore trying to figure out how to move forward in my own strength.
But finally, this morning as I was reading, the true issue, the root, and the heart of the matter came to the surface. I was struggling to believe that God really loves me. Yes, we all know the words to “Jesus Loves Me” and we all remember that the Bible tells us so. But sometimes, when things are tough, when life gives you lemons, when things aren’t going your way, when your bank account isn’t pretty, there’s a snake in the grass ready to whisper in your ear…Does God really love you? And if you are caught unaware, little seeds of doubt can begin to produce big fruit — fear, mistrust, an unsettled mind, perhaps even a desire to throw out the baby and the bathwater.
But what good and glorious news I have to share with you this morning! What good and glorious news brought me to my knees, weeping in the shower? God loves me. That’s it, and that’s the truth. He really loves me. He really cares about what happens in my life. He really wants a relationship with me and He really wants what’s best for me.
{He loves us more than we love these three! Amazing Love!}
Do you have kids? I hope someday you do. Every day I have with the Bear inspires poetry in my heart — songs and music of thankfulness. I really, really love him. I really care about what happens in his life. And I really want to lead him and help him to learn how to live a life that will please God — where I know he’ll experience something greater than any other way of life available. But the point I’m trying to make is, I really, really love him. And the way I love that little boy, if you could put it on a calculator and add it up to some numerical value, absolutely cannot compare with the love the Lord has for me, with a thousand calculators. Just me. Little Caroline Collie from Washington, North Carolina — who has this many hairs on her head and has had this many dreams about chocolate on Tuesdays and has seen this many sunsets.
He knows everything about me. And He still loves me. And I am so glad to hold that truth in my heart in a fresh way today. It is absolutely glorious.
So if I could still issue a New Year’s challenge to you, I might encourage you to get into the Bible like never before. To spend time with your Creator and seek His face. But perhaps today, more than any of that, I just want you to know how much He loves you. No matter what you do. It’s unconditional love. He doesn’t need you. But He really, really wants you. You bring Him joy just being who He created you to be. You bring Him joy just being. His desire is for you. And He’s been chasing after you.
In the year ahead, I hope you let Him catch you. Let Him choose you. And let Him shower you with His amazing love. If you do, you’ll want to dive into His Word to know Him better and let Him change you. You’ll want to get up early and get away to be with Him. You will become a part of the greatest love story in history — the story of a loving God, and the generations and generations of people He has demonstrated His love to. In the midst of the billions, the God of the universe wants to know you. Happy New Year.
—-
May your year be filled with the knowledge that He loves you. Because that will change everything.
xCC
Dec 1, 2012 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
Hi friends! I am sorry words have been scarce around these parts for the past couple of weeks. I am sure you can understand why and you gracious folks have plenty of grace for me. The road to recovery after the birth of our precious little one has had a few speed bumps… but I am doing well and finally starting to feel pretty close to my normal self again. Except for, ya know, it being a version of myself that is getting a little less than an optimal amount of sleep.
Which I suppose isn’t too different from being awake half the night with heartburn before the little one’s arrival. Anywho.
The remarkable thing about motherhood that I always forget, that always finds me when a new little one arrives in our lives, is how likely it is that you are going to have to face fear head on in order to move forward. I wonder what sorts of things Daniel faced before he faced the lions — what was the training ground that gave him the capacity to believe and stand firm against all odds?
{Our One-Week Old (Zero Months!)}
There’s this moment when you realize how many tiny lives are depending on you and there’s the potential to freak out. Even when it’s just one. The enemy begins to whisper: This is too much for you to handle. Sure, other women have been managing more children than this for centuries… but right now, right here, with you, it’s probably not possible.
I sat in the tub the other night, remembering how, daunted by what lie ahead, I longed to just park in the moment after the Tank was born — and the Lord reminded me that the Good Water is the Water that Flows. And this time, looking up and looking forward, I asked – simple and genuine – Lord, how will I do this? How will I manage three now?
That still small voice whispered to my soul the good news: One day at a time.
And isn’t it funny that the night before this child was born, I was awake well past midnight, typing with inspiration — we have this day to live. Let’s focus on living this day.
So for now, that’s where I’m living. Today. Taking it one day at a time. Trusting that one of these days soon my body will feel able to take my boys for a walk. With our new baby girl in tow. And I’ll find the energy and strength I need to plan the menu and bake the bread. To wipe noses and read bedtime stories. To create the websites on the list. To write and encourage the way I think I was created to. To finally fill up a bucket and mop the kitchen floor.
The beauty of this reality is that I don’t have to have it all right now. Like so many other things in life, recovery is a journey. I can trust that I’ll have what I need for today, today, and tomorrow? Well, tomorrow has enough worry of its own, so let’s cross that bridge when we get there, right?
I know these words are for me; I wondered if they might be for you, too?
xCC
Nov 26, 2012 | The Parenthood
Perhaps it isn’t coincidence — just a few short hours after I wrote this post about learning to live life just one day at a time, our lives changed completely, in less time than it takes to watch your favourite romantic comedy. It’s a privilege to tell the story and I hope to do it justice (sorry it has taken me so long to tell it) — it was even more a privilege to get to live the story, and I find myself, once again overwhelmed by God’s unrelenting mercy, favour and blessings. Unmerited favour keeps coming my way — and certain of how undeserving I am, I am thankful for His amazing grace.
Three days after the due date I’d calculated, and perhaps four hours after I’d finally managed to fall asleep, I woke up and everything just felt different, although I’m not sure I can explain exactly how or why. I wasn’t having proper contractions to speak of — I just woke up to go to the bathroom — but my spider senses were tingling: change was imminent.
I did what any normal gal would do at 5 am when she thinks she might be going into labor. I started putting on makeup. This relaxing part of my daily routine kept me from freaking out and waking the Hero Hubs before I knew this wasn’t a false alarm. Quietly standing in front of the mirror, the contractions started coming. Gentle, mild… maybe this could be it but I’m not sure contractions.
I started timing them, they started speeding up, the intensity increased, and I woke the Hubs. Within ten minutes I was certain it was time for him to call my Mom. Because of my previous delivery with the Tank, we knew we were probably going to need to move fast.
I pulled on some clothes (not a little black dress like last time, mind you — I had my senses together a little better this time) and between contractions was grabbing the few last minute things I wanted to throw in the hospital bag.
And, good news, I had my make-up on already.
We both tried to grab a bit of cereal quickly before running out the door. My Mom arrived in no time, I had six mouthfuls, and felt guilty for telling the Hubs I thought we were going to have to leave the cereal and go.
Around 6:25 am we walked through the doors of the hospital (a five minute drive from our house) and headed up to the third floor, the labor and delivery area. I occasionally had to stop and breathe my way through a contraction. As the doors of the elevator opened, two nurses were standing at a computer screen trying to figure something out together. After a brief wait, HH gently interrupted to mention how quickly our last child arrived.
They stopped what they were doing and one of the nurses escorted me to an exam room, suggested I change into a hospital gown and asked for a urine sample. I was able to change clothes but apologized that I could not provide the sample she requested. I got the feeling they didn’t know how serious I was about having a baby, like, right then.
Another nurse came in to examine me, and the Hubs gently suggested that I no longer needed to time my contractions. At this point I’d been timing them for exactly 52 minutes and 10 seconds.He was steady by my side, slowly counting to thirty every time I asked, massaging my hand rough, to distract me from the discomfort. I remember praying, thanking the Lord in the midst of the pain: she was finally on her way.
I didn’t hear the diagnosis immediately after the examination, but a wheelchair arrived very quickly to take me to the delivery room. With some assistance I got off the examination table. I stood still for a moment to remove the hair band from my wrist and pull my hair back. I laugh to remember it now, but at the time, it felt like a scene in an epic film, where a warrior is flexing his bow or drawing his sword: my hair was pulled back, I was ready for battle.
Around a corner, one contraction and thirty seconds of steady counting later, on a new table in the delivery room, I finally heard the diagnosis I’d missed the first time as the doctor walked in: She’s nine centimeters with a bulging bag.
Translation for those who might not be able to interpret this terminology: the body is ready. It’s baby time.
I didn’t want an IV, but at this point, I didn’t care enough to argue. {Call me crazy for not wanting any drugs while giving birth, and complaining about the discomfort of sticking a needle in my hand.} They asked me not to push, even if I felt the urge, while they were putting the IV in. A moment later, the doctor was standing in front of me, and smiling she asked, “Would you like me to break the bag?”
She could see I was uncertain of how to answer.
“If I do, the baby will come.”
A little overwhelmed by it all, I looked to the Hubs for help. “It’s fine, honey. The baby is coming.”
That familiar feeling — like the waters that baptized dear old Mr. Potato Head as he sped us to the hospital 21 months ago — was there, immediately followed by the urge to push.
With the first push — I kid you not, friends, the first push — the head was there, crowning.
The nurses coached me on how to push the second time. Legs here, chin into chest, wait for it. And with this deep, warrior-cry, shout, holler-bellow, which I’ve only used on two previous occasions, both times to deliver a baby, I pushed the longest, hardest, bravest push I could muster, with a half-pause in the middle and a further push until it. was. finished.
And finished, it was, and with that, head, shoulders, knees and toes, there was no longer a baby in my belly — she was out, she was in the world.
I was incredibly relieved by the speed of it all — they laid her on my tummy, a tiny little bum up in the air, facing the other way, I saw her head full of dark brown hair before I ever got to see her face.
With a joyful whisper I touched her for the first time: Arabella. Arabella.
I held her briefly, they cleaned her gently, I nursed her joyfully for the first time. I saw her face when they lay her on the scale, and it was as if the Bear was back, in baby form — she looks just like her older brother when he was a baby, but with lots more hair.
The after-pains were bothersome, the IV was a nuisance, but when I walked from that delivery room, past the nursery where she was getting her first proper bath, the Hero Hubs there with a camera, I was walking on a cloud.
This was the wave I was waiting to catch. This was the story I was holding on to hope for.
Ara, from the latin, means altar. Bella, is of course related to the latin and Italian words meaning beautiful. Literally meaning beautiful altar, sometimes prayerful, we pray her life, like her name, will be a place where heaven touches earth, and vice versa.
{Her name was first used in Scotland in the Middle Ages. Extra special.}
Although we had a little extra time at the hospital this time around, she still beat her brother’s record. All 8 pounds and 7 ounces of her, arriving at 6:56 am — she edged him out by perhaps fifteen minutes or so.
We joyfully welcome Arabella to our family.
Record-breaking, beautiful.
xCC
I create resources to help people find deeper, more meaningful relationships with God through pursuing, pondering, and prayer. The "Shop" link above will take you to the home of many of the lovely resources I’ve created to help you keep walking one day deeper with Jesus.