Why Are You Dating?

The birthday festivities continued into the weekend. We danced, we dined-- it was marvelous. Afterward Brady and I headed to my parents for yet another game night. I stayed downstairs with the high schoolers reveling in their teenage drama and the fact that they'll look back one day and have a face palm moment. 

Was I really ever so naive to believe that I knew everything?

I know that when I was 16 I whole heartedly believed that I was ready for adult responsibility. That I could get married, settle down, start a family-- and I could have. But I'm glad I didn't. I was still figuring out who I was at 16 I don't know how I intended to contribute anything meaningful (other than feelings) to a relationship.

My parents got married when they were young and unestablished. For so long I believed that was how you were supposed to do it. By the time I was 18 I felt like an old maid--it depressed me because I felt like I was supposed to have my life all pieced together by then... much like my parents. What I failed to take into account was my parents relationship in their first 6 years of marriage. It was terribly hard. Divorce was contemplated. Two kids that hadn't even figured themselves out entered into an adult union.

Growing up was forced instead of gradual. 

God inevitably intervened and my parents are still together but if he hadn't. Things were headed downhill fast. There is no telling where we'd all be today. There probably wouldn't be seven of us. I know I wouldn't have the same view of marriage that I do today.

My point-- there is so much pressure, when you're a girl in high school, to date, to be in a relationship, to find your "soul mate". My perspective--the perspective of a former teenager-- I don't think it's smart to date in high school-- if you're looking for a spouse. I think it is best to wait until your hormones have calmed down and your brain is running the show instead of your heart (Jeremiah 17:9).

Sure. There are people who meet in high school, get married, and spend the rest of their lives together. I'm not saying it doesn't work. I just think it makes it harder in the beginning. It absolutely makes it harder to stay pure. If you meet the love of your life when you're a freshman you better be walking pretty close to Jesus because the next four years are going to be rough and at 14 you don't really have the option to marry instead of burn with passion (1 Corinthians 7:9). At 14 there is pretty much only burning.

When I was 16 I had a boyfriend who I wanted to marry. It would have been awful if we did. We were two completely different people-- though we sure did love each other a lot. Love is not enough to make it work. If there are no common goals or interests-- if Christ is not the center of your relationship and life. It doesn't work. Don't even let your heart go there (Proverbs 4:23).

"In whatever man does without God, he must fail miserably or succeed even more miserably." *George McDonald

There was a four year period of time where I struggled to move on. The heart is really a deceitful, wicked, thing (Jeremiah 17:9). I almost missed out on the best thing that has ever happened to me because of it. I was still talking to my ex when I met Brady. I very quickly realized that if I wanted to be in a healthy relationship with anyone I had to permanently sever ties.

It wasn't easy and that is why I love speaking to the younger generation about these things. Because I've been there. Because my parents have been there. Because history loves to repeat itself. Because no matter how much that 14 year old boy tells you he loves you--you are still not ready to marry him and he is still not ready to marry you. And if neither one of you are in a position to get married-- why are you dating?

Wreck

My house is a wreck. It looks like that tornado hit us after all. It started with Brady leaving his dumpster finds scattered around the living room and it ended with me literally not keeping house for a week and a half. I've been a bad house keeper lately...



There are piles of folded laundry covering the couch along with two baskets that still need to be folded, dishes piled so high in the sink that one more plate might send the whole disaster crashing to the floor, clothes at the foot of our bed that need to be hung in the closet, and then there are the random piles-- baby clothes, baby blankets, baby toys... my house has never been so messy.



I started my work on the kitchen this morning after Availeth went down for her mid-morning nap. There were so many dishes that I ran out of hot water before I finished so I sat down with a glass of ice water and a lot on my mind. I'm giving myself 15 minutes--to let the water heat back up--before I go to work again.



There is something about doing dishes that makes me very philosophical. The thoughts I have while doing the dishes rival the thoughts I have in the shower--which are always very deep and meaningful. I reflect on life while I scrub or sometimes I sing show tunes--both very good things.



On Easter morning I slipped into the shower expecting Brady to follow and got glimpse of my new hair do in the mirror. Which reminds me of Liza Minnelli, who in turn reminded me of how much I love Cabaret, and how hard I studied with my vocal coach in California to learn all of the German in Mein Herr... which reminded me how much I love to sing in German and then there was no stopping me.

In the car on the way to church Brady told me he was glad he didn't get in with me because then I would have never gotten out.



It's true. The two of us in there together is bad news because I become a silly goose. Singing louder and more enthusiastically which in turn encourages Brady to get silly and sing silly things with me--and then we're locked in this silly battle with silly voices and faces and bubbles. Lots of bubbles.



We're awesome. But we don't get a lot accomplished most days.

Hilarious picture I took the day before Easter. Spot the bunny?

Which brings me back to my wreck of a house.



Which I really should be tending to now instead of dilly dallying on the computer.




Auf wiedersehen, mein Herr.

Availeth Joy: A Birth Story

"8 days. 39 weeks pregnant tomorrow and if this isn't labor then shoot me because.... ouch!"--My FB status update. Nov. 21, 2011

One month ago today, November 21, 2011-- at 4am in the morning, I knew that it was time to have a baby! I started contracting around 9pm the night before. I got out my watch and began to time.

They started out far apart. 12 minutes. 11 minutes. 15 minutes. But by 4am we were at 7 minutes apart lasting about a minute a piece and I was convinced that I was in labor. My Grandma (a retired labor and delivery nurse) came over and checked my cervix. I was dilated to a 2. She told us it would be awhile yet and Brady decided to go to work. I called my mom and she agreed to come over and walk with me.

She showed up around 7am. I decided to go back to bed to try and get a little rest but after trying to sleep for an hour I decided that it just wasn't gonna happen. The contractions were a little bit more painful than before and rest was making them worse it seemed. We headed to the mall at 9am because it was too cold to walk outside. My contractions were about 5 minutes apart when we got to the mall and started doing laps.

It wasn't soon after we got to the mall that my stomach started to growl. My mom (a nicu nurse) told me I could spilt a pretzel with her-- she didn't think it was wise to eat a big meal while I was laboring. I agreed and we made a pit stop at the bathroom before we got our pretzel.

That pit stop changed everything. While in the bathroom I realized I was bleeding a little abnormally and we decided it was best to go to the hospital. I called my Grandma and told her that I would keep her updated. I called Brady and after a short talk we decided it would be best if he left work and met us there. Even though it could have still been hours before we saw a baby. --I am so glad that we made that decision.

We were admitted at 11:46am. I was taken into a room where I undressed and put a hospital gown on. I was sure that they were going to send me home. So sure that I left my bags and my camera in the car. The l&d nurse was young, beautiful and friendly. She asked me a million questions.

Brady arrived.

The nurse strapped on fetal monitoring, took my blood pressure and put me on oxygen. She told me that Avey's heart was decelling after every contraction and that it wasn't recovering.

She flipped me over on my side and told me to take deep breaths. I did. It didn't help. I stayed positive after all only 4% of women actually have something go wrong in labor. Only 4% of women actually have to have emergency c-sections. The odds were in my favor.

They put in a IV.

"Do I really need that?" I asked. I wanted to have a natural labor so bad. Brady and I had spent 8 months researching and preparing. I spent weeks making us a custom birth plan. I didn't want an IV.

"Yes."

They kept me so busy signing papers and answering questions that I didn't have a chance to worry until they told me they wanted to break my water and insert some internal fetal monitoring into the top of my baby's head.

"Wont it hurt her?"

"No. Not at all. It's whats best."

It wasn't the natural birth we had planned but they gave me no other option. I was a little bewildered and definitely confused. They told me that the anesthesiologist was going to come in so that I could sign papers saying that if I needed to have a c-section he could give me the proper medication. I told them that I didn't want a c-section they told me it was just a precaution. Just in case...

They drew blood. They monitored the baby. I never even had a chance to talk to Brady.

Shortly after being told they were going to break my water my OB made her first appearance on the scene. She asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was okay.

She dropped the bomb. She informed us that she wasn't going to bother breaking my water. Avey was in distress. She was not tolerating the contractions at all... the only option was a c-section.

My heart shattered to pieces. You could hear it in the sobs that arrived with the news. After months of research-- dreams of having a completely natural labor were crushed with two words. Brady was upset. We still weren't convinced that it wasn't some ploy my OB came up with to get us delivered by lunch.

The poor anesthesiologist (a man) stood there, holding the papers I needed to sign, telling me he could give me a minute. I just wanted it to be over so I signed the papers through my tears.

"Can my mom come?" I asked.

"No. Just Brady. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Do I have time to run out and grab her camera?" My mom asked.

"Hurry." My mom said later that it was then that she knew Avey was in big trouble. She ran all the way to the car and all the way back. 

I stopped crying as the numbness started to set in. I can't quite explain what I was feeling. Shock? Sadness? Disappointment? We had done the research on what a c-section would mean for subsequent pregnancies. C-section had become such a bad word in our vocabulary. I was terrified.

I hadn't even bothered to research them seriously. That is how far out of the realm of possibility it was.

As Brady suited up I dotted the i's and crossed the t's. Then they wheeled us back into the OR. I started crying again. I wasn't supposed to deliver in an OR. I had her birth song picked out. It was going to play as she was delivered. What about the massage oil and the request for a dimly lit atmosphere? What about the birth classes we took that taught us how to breathe through contractions and focus?

What about our plan?

I was freezing, sobbing, broken, and literally naked before everyone in the OR. It was awful.

The epidural was the worst part and then the shakes. Brady stayed glued to my side the entire time. Running his fingers through my hair. Whispering secrets into my ears. Being encouraging even though I saw his eyes glistening with the same tears mine were crying. One of us had to stay strong.

"Meconium." The doctor said. "It's like a swamp in here. Poor thing."

"Wow. She's tiny. Smaller than I thought."

Then I heard her little bird cry. Little one squawked like a pro the moment she made her debut. And just like that my life was changed.

I didn't get to hold her at first or see her but her little birdy cry let me know she was okay and that things, somehow, were going to be just fine.

When I saw her for the first time I was still a little  disoriented. It was nothing like I excepted. There was no grand moment where I burst into tears and an overwhelming feeling of love washed over me. I was still confused. Still sad. Still disappointed.

They let me see her for two minutes. I know because the nurse videoed the entire time. Then they took her away and said that I could have her back when I went to recovery.

She was born at 12:54pm. 1 hour and 8 minutes after we were admitted.

They wheeled me into recovery and a nurse followed us cradling Avey. She was feeding her a bottle of formula. My hear broke again. They explained to me that her blood sugar was low and that they were trying to get it up.

I told the nurse that it was okay but on the inside I was crying. I wanted to breastfeed so bad. They didn't even give me a chance. The nurse told us that her temperature was a little low as well and that after she gave her the bottle we could do some kangaroo care.

I was shaking so bad I didn't think that I could warm her up when I was still so cold. The nurse told me that it was because of the medication they gave me.

"Everyone shakes."



I got to hold Avey on my chest for 5 minutes-- maybe. I tried to get her to nurse. She was tired and full from the bottle. The nurse took her temp again and told us that they were going to take Avey to the nicu but I could come see her as soon as I was out of recovery.



"Okay." I said. It was like a dream.

Brady took care of me. He kept requesting more warm blankets because I kept insisting that I was cold. He didn't leave my side even though he could have gone with her to the nicu. He kept telling me that his place was with me. That I was his number one priority even though he hadn't even held his little girl yet.

"Baby girl was born at 12:54pm. Weighing in at a whopping 5lbs 1 oz! She is 18 inches long and has lots of beautiful dark hair. We've only been able to see her twice since delivery and Brady hasn't been able to hold her yet. She is having some blood sugar issues and she wasn't getting warm enough so they whisked her away to the NICU. Please pray because I'm having a really rough time. I just want to be able to hold her and have her near me." --My FB status update. Nov. 21, 2011

We spent three hours in recovery and on the way to my postpartum room we swung by the nicu. Where one of the nurses was kind enough to snap a family photo in the 3 minutes we got to spend with her.

That first night was so hard. I stayed busy with pumping but I kept bursting into tears. I kept telling Brady that I just wanted her to be in the room with us. That it wasn't fair that I only got to see her for ten minutes the day she was born. That she was a full term baby. She shouldn't be in the nicu.

A lot of things didn't go according to plan this month. Her birth. Her nicu stay. My recovery. But we lived our way through it.

Brady and I have grown closer than we've ever been before. I don't think you go through something so traumatizing with a person and come out unchanged... unbonded. The way he loves me... it's a crazy kind of love. A love I didn't even know existed until he came along.

Avey has become the highlight of our little world. She makes us laugh and coo like idiots. I didn't know a love like this existed until she came along. It's a crazy kind of love.

This month has been the hardest, most exciting, saddest, happiest month of my life. It was nothing like I expected. And even though I'm still really raw and I'm still trying to make sense of it all... I wouldn't change any of it.

Read about Avey's nicu stay here.

Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead

I was one of the lucky ones. Those girls you hate in high school because they have perfect skin and long thick hair. When I was about 18 I started loosing my hair due to an autoimmune disease. It literally fell out in handfuls and it still does at times. It's why I cut my hair short. I hoped that no one would notice just how thin my hair had become. I'm told that no matter how they adjust my medication hair loss is a part of having an autoimmune disease and once it starts it can't be stopped.

I got a zit on my chin at the end of March. I had never gotten a zit on my chin before March 2011. That's how I found out that I was pregnant. I woke up, saw the zit and knew that that was the only explanation. Now I have a fine sprinkling of little zits across the bottom of my face and hair line. Goodbye clear skin. Hopefully you'll come back someday.

What I've learned from this is not to put my faith in my looks because they could be gone tomorrow. Find a man who loves you regardless because if you don't he'll be gone when your hair starts falling out, the zits appear, and you start putting on the "I'm comfortable with you weight."

I was 100% comfortable in my skin before I met Brady, even though I was 80 lbs overweight with more stretch marks than a pregnant woman. I started packing on the weight around 16 and wasn't diagnosed with hypothyroid disease until I had gained 80 lbs (3 years later). Even though I was fat I hadn't lost a shred of confidence because my faith wasn't in my looks.

Brady met me, fell in love with me, proposed to me, married me and knocked me up all within the span of a year and a half and my weight fluctuated. Some weeks I was up others I was down. By the time I met him I had been on my meds for a year and the docs had finally found the right dosage to make it so that I could start loosing weight again. When you're dating though you don't want to diet! You want to go out to dinner and eat pasta and bread! I didn't worry about my weight so much until he proposed. My weight was down then. I decided I wanted to get back in shape for the wedding but since we got married a month later I didn't have much time. I lost about 10 lbs after we got married and before I got pregnant. For obvious reason I am not trying to loose weight now.

After watching a documentary called, "Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead," about a man who had an autoimmune disease Brady and I decided we wanted to try the juice fast. The diet consists of juicing large amounts of fruits, veggies, nuts, and beans. We are so excited to start though we are going to take it slow until I deliver and then we'll kick it up a notch and really start working at getting the weight off.

Through everything he is my cheerleader. Fat or skinny he loves me just the same... he does encourage me to get healthy though (I'm a sucker for french fries and salty foods). Who isn't? I want to be a healthy Mom. I do not want to go into my next pregnancy 80 lbs overweight. It's too grueling on my frame. I want to encourage our kids to be healthy and to stay away from processed foods. It's going to be a long journey but I think we're up for the challenge.