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.

Grow Together Or Apart

There is something sacred about the darkness, the stillness, and the silence that comes with night time. Brady and I lay together as close as we can get in the quite-- whispering things about our day, our dreams--tomorrow. I always want to have this time with him. Night time.



I will purpose my days to give him my nights.



I thought I was in love when we got married but if that was love than this is so so much more than love.



There is no piece of me that is hidden from him. He has seen it all. More than I was comfortable with at times but all nonetheless. The most affirming experience of my life was when he vowed to take the bad--the ugly--the not nice stuff--not just so he could get the good-- but because he wanted it. He was jealous for it. Because it was a part of me.



And any part of me to him is exquisitely good.



He is the strongest, kindest, gentlest human being I've ever known. No one compares. There is no competition. There is no doubt in my mind that every piece of him was made for every piece of me. He complements my madness. He thinks I'm hilarious. He likes what I look like without makeup. He likes to pepper kisses all over my face.



He gives me so much more than I deserve. Brady lays down his life for me like Christ laid down his life for the church. He continually sacrifices his wants and needs to serve me, to please me, to show me love in the most tangible and intangible ways.



It is my deepest hope that one day he can say that I've given him just as much life as he's given me.



One of my darkest moments was the day Avey was born. Getting wheeled in for a c-section after having meticulously planned an all natural birth and finding out that our baby was sick. That we weren't going to be able to take her home with us-- she wasn't even allowed to stay in the same room as us-- we had to leave and she had to stay.



He was there for the ugly tears. He was there for the showers that I was too weak to take by myself. He was there to wedge himself into a twin size hospital bed with me because I needed to be held. He was there to help me get to the bathroom because I couldn't do it by myself. He wheeled me to and from the nicu a million times. He reminded me to eat. He made a breast pumping schedule and cleaned all the little pieces after every use. Massaged tired muscles, refilled my water cup 1235983209581 times, held my hand, delivered milk to the nicu at 2am, and told me that everything was going to be okay--until I believed him.



We had the choice to grow together or grow apart. He didn't hesitate and neither did I.



The way he loved me during that time was so healing.

I am excited for our future and where we're heading. I know that no matter what comes my way I'll be able to face it with him by my side. God blessed me with such an incredible gift and I am so thankful.

It's Exciting!

After rifling through property after property after our offer on the duplex was declined I came across 22 acres of land in Trenton, Tx. Brady was on the phone when I found it and I did the potty dance as I anxiously waited to tell him what I found.





I acted cool when he finally got off his call. "I'm going to buy this for you." I stated as I turned the computer screen around listed off the details of the property.





Thus began the daydreaming. Going to bed is useless because we stay up talking about all the possibilities. We stay up until we can't keep our eyes open any longer, until we're too tired to talk or plan or dream.





“I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes. 

After that I liked jazz music. 

Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way."
― Donald Miller

I never wanted to live in the country. I never wanted cows, or goats, or chickens. I never wanted to live anywhere but a cookie cutter home in a cookie cutter neighborhood in a cookie cutter town.





I want it now.

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way."

Part of being married is falling in love with someone else's dreams so deeply that they become your own. Watching Brady love teaches me how to love things that I never thought I would. 


It's exciting. 

1 Year

It's 11am and we're still in bed. We were out till 3am last night. I used to be a night person and now I'm a mom. Its the sad-- or certain-- reality I now face. Hellooooo motherhood!

Avey is licking my leg to death right now so I'm going to try to make this post quick.

A year ago this second I was getting all made up in my mothers bathroom while Brady, his parents, the Elenburgs and my family waited in the living room.

A year ago today I got to marry my best friend. The peanut butter to my jelly.

And what a year it's been! To a thousand more adventures! To four more babies! To living a long modest life in the country-- on our own land-- in the home that we build with a wrap around porch. To watching sunsets and sunrises with you by my side. To getting mad and making up. To lots of making up. 

You are my whole world. I am so mad about you. I want to grow wrinkly with you.

Happy Anniversary.

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.