6 months and counting...

Where has the time gone?!  Silas is already 6 months old!  I can't believe it has been that long since my last post!  Let's just say...we've been a little preoccupied ;).

So much has happened in the last few months.  When I posted last Si had FINALLY began to nurse well and was beginning to gain weight the way he was supposed to.  I'm happy to report that this is still the case!

We have since switched pediatricians.  We still really liked Dr. Ellis and we are so appreciative of him.  But we had to move on because we just weren't confident in the staff at his office.  We have started seeing Dr. Milligan and so far LOVE everything about his office and staff.  Which is great because leaving a doctor appointment stressed out and confused was getting old.

These days Silas is a teething mess.  Those darn teeth started trying to pop through a month ago and dang it, they haven't appeared yet.  Poor boy. 

We also started introducing some solids.  We started with avocado.  Yum!  Si wasn't super impressed with his first taste, but by the third time we had tried them he loved them!  That kid can't shovel guacamole in fast enough either. 

He also got to try peaches.  Let's just say these are probably his favorite right now.  The kid spots a peach and starts grunting and grabbing and "mmm'ing" like no body's business. 

Oh, and swim lessons! We got to go to swim lessons this week.  He has been loving them too.  I was so glad, because he hates his bath and I was afraid that he would cry the whole time at swim lessons.  He does not like to go under the water though.  We stuck his face in the water last night and that was pretty much the end of it.

He gets kinda sleepy in the warm water too, so we have fun for about 15-20 minutes and then spend the next 15 minutes trying to keep awake/and or happy.  I was afraid that the swim instructor would hate this but she just loves having Si in the class even when he's fussing.  She always comes over and tells me it's OK, this is such a good foundation of learning for him. 

That's kind of a surfac-y update in a nutshell.  I'll blog again soon about some cool things I'm learning about breastfeeding and how I feel about it,  loving others through Silas, and an update on my depression and how I'm handling it.  I'll also try to share some of the things I am doing to help our  family be healthier too.

Right now, there's a little boy who is starting to wake up from his nap.  So stay tuned, I'll be right back after these messages!!

The Buzz on Bumblebee, Pt. 3

The next few hours were a blur.  I remember chatting with the nurses and the doctor as they cleaned Silas up and the doctor stitched me up ( I had a 4th degree tear).  I remember them giving Silas to me to nurse for the first time.  I remember being taken to our room and eating while Andrew went with Silas and the nurse to go to the nursery and finish getting Silas cleaned up and ready for the night.  But by the time they returned, my pain meds and the antibiotic they'd put me on had kicked in.  I don't remember much of that first night at all.  Andrew was a trooper, stepping in and making sure Silas was taken care of while I recovered.

The next couple days in the hospital were interesting.  I felt pretty useless.  I was on pain medication for the tear I got during labor and because the pain meds made me super nauseous, I was also on nausea meds.  The nausea medicine made me incredibly drowsy.  I was also still very dehydrated.  I felt like I was barely functioning most of the time. 

When I was awake I would hold my baby while he slept.  When he was hungry I tried to nurse.  Oh how we tried. 

My son definitely got a good dose of stubbornness in the genetic mix.  I wish I could say it was all Bancroft...but there's definitely some Layton/Pruitt in there too.  Every time we nursed he would just give up and get MAD.  I mean, Hulk mad.  He'd latch on just fine and start to nurse but before any progress could happen he would let go and begin to cry.  He was inconsolable. 

Each attempt at nursing ended the same.  We'd spend an hour trying to latch on, trying to get some colostrum in his little mouth, Silas wailing.  And Mommy giving up and crying herself or becoming so exhausted that she just couldn't do it any more.  Then Andrew would take him and walk him or rock him until he cried himself out and went to sleep.  I don't know how I would ever have managed without Andrew.

Andrew became the primary care giver while we were there.  I spent most of the time sleeping or in pain.  There were a few moments of alertness.  Usually when we had visitors I was able to perk up a bit and at least say hi and chat for a few minutes.  But most of the time I slept.

I was concerned about my lack of success at nursing but the nurses all encouraged me.  They gave me tips.  They told me it was normal.  No one made me feel like I was doing a bad job. 

Eventually the lactation consultant came by to see me.  We got off on the wrong foot and I chose to ignore any advice she gave me.  In hindsight, I wish I'd gotten over myself and just listened and tried the things she was suggesting.  We might have avoided some of what was to come.

Finally, the day to bring our Bumblebee home had arrived.  It was New Year's Day.  As I waited for Andrew to bring the car around it struck me that we had come full circle. 

On New Year's Day eight years ago Andrew and I began dating.   This day we were bringing home our son.  Eight years ago we hadn't even begun to dream about him.  But God had.  His story began that day as much as it had nine months ago.  It was a cool moment to reflect on.

The next week would be one of the toughest weeks of my life.  I need to pause here and just say again:  I married an AMAZING man.  I am so thankful to be his wife and I am so very blessed by his love, friendship, and support. 

When we were discharged at the hospital, we were told to call the pediatrician and set up an appointment for Silas in two days.  I thought this was odd because I knew his first well baby check up should be at two weeks.  But I chalked it up to the pediatrician just wanting to be thorough and since we hadn't seen him before Silas was born, maybe he wanted to have the "getting to know you" appointment as soon as possible before doing the first well baby appointment.

Oh how I wish I'd paid more attention to the what was going on when the nurses would take Silas to the nursery for weigh ins and such.  I would have been more prepared for why Dr. Ellis wanted to see us so soon.  I would have been more prepared for the battle I was about to fight.

Tuesday night through Friday morning of week 1 were tough.  Silas and I were still having trouble getting into the nursing groove.  This was made doubly hard by the fact that my milk didn't come in until early Friday morning.  Everyone kept telling me this was normal though so I tried not to worry over it too much.

Friday we loaded up and drove up to see Dr. Ellis.  Once we got checked in for our appointment the nurse took Silas' measurements and weighed him. Then Dr. Ellis came in.

I knew something was up from the moment he sat down with us.  His first question was: Are you still having trouble nursing?  I told him yes.  He nodded and took a deep breath. 

Dr. Ellis then explained that the reason he'd had us come in was because Silas' last weigh in before discharge had concerned him.   He thought Silas was losing too much weight and wanted to see him after a couple days at home to see if nursing would go any better. 

I told him that my milk hadn't come in until very early that morning and that I had hoped nursing would start going better now that it had.  I remember feeling apprehensive and anxious as I explained this.  The look on the doctor's face told me there was something else happening that I had missed.

Dr. Ellis told us that it's totally normal for newborns to lose a little weight in their first few days.  This usually amounts to a few ounces or so.  Silas had lost two pounds.  To be exact, he had lost 25% of his body weight.  This was not OK.

My heart sank.  I began to get emotional.  Dr. Ellis tried to comfort me, but what he said next only sent me further into the emotional abyss.  We had to supplement.  We had to get some high calorie formula into Silas over the weekend.  My mind raced ahead...I didn't want to do formula.  I hated that we would have to.  But I knew that supplementing wasn't the end of the world if I could still nurse him.

Then Dr. Ellis said he wanted us to try the bottle.  My first response was, "Absolutely not.  Do I have any other options?  I don't want to use a bottle.  We are breastfeeding."

To his credit, Dr. Ellis did try to work with me on this.  He asked me if I had any ideas and I asked about the tube feeding system.  You put breast milk or formula supplement in a syringe or bag that is attached to a tube which you then tape to your nipple and as baby nurses, you slowly release the supplement.  Dr. Ellis said that he had heard of this but that he didn't have access to this.  He agreed to have his lactation nurse call the lactation consultant at the hospital and ask if they had one and also to consult with them about what they felt would be best for Silas at this point.

Unfortunately the hospital didn't have a tube system either.  The lactation consultant was also concerned with the amount of energy it was taking Silas to nurse.  She suggested that we do whatever was necessary to get some food in him over the weekend and worry about nursing after that.

This would mean a bottle.  I was devastated.  I knew how hard nursing was going to be to get started.  I also knew how much harder it would be once a bottle was prematurely introduced.  I had a big ugly cry right there.

Andrew immediately began to console me.  Dr. Ellis reached out and rubbed my shoulder, apologizing.  He told us he wouldn't force the bottle on us.  It would be my decision.  He understood how hard this was.  His wife had gone through the same thing.  Only her pediatrician didn't give her a choice.  She had come in with a bottle and given it to their son without even so much as warning them.  He would never, ever, do that to a breastfeeding mom.

I was a mess.  I hated that we would have to do a bottle.  Hated it!  Dr. Ellis then asked me if I would feel better talking to the lactation nurse for a little bit.  He wanted me to hear from her why they thought the bottle would be best for now and have her give me some pointers on getting started nursing.  He assured me, we weren't giving up on that.  We just needed to do something else in addition for a little bit.

The lactation nurse was really nice.  She explained to us about Silas using so much energy to nurse that he was burning more calories than he was getting.  We needed to get the weight loss stopped as soon as possible.  She spent time helping try to get him latched on and watched me try to nurse.  She gave me advice on positioning, and encouragement.  Then she asked me what I wanted to do.  She asked me if I wanted her to get a bottle.

The tears started all over again.  I looked at Andrew.  He hugged me.  He told me he wouldn't let me give up on nursing, but maybe we needed to trust that this was what was best for now.  I cried harder.  The lactation nurse patted me on the back and squeezed my hand.  I slowly nodded.  We would do the bottle.

She left and came back with a formula bottle ready to go.  She asked me if I wanted her to get him started.  She knew that it would be hard for me.  She wanted to make it easier.  I told her no, I could do it.  So I did.  For about a minute.  Then the tears came again.

She took Silas and held him.  Then she began to feed him the bottle.  She looked me straight in the eyes the whole time and said, "You are a good mom.  This will all be over soon enough.  You're doing the right thing, here, OK?"  I wish I believed her.  In that moment no one could convince me that this was best.

Eventually Dr. Ellis came back and gave us instructions for supplementing.  He also ordered a jaundice test. He tried one more time to comfort me.  He encouraged Andrew and told him he knew how he as the husband/dad felt.  He'd been there.  He told us to hang in there.  He gave me a half hug on the way out. 

On the way out of the doctor's office every lie the enemy had been whispering all week washed over me.  I wallowed in them.  I let them take root.

You see, I had been feeling inadequate and useless from day one.  I didn't feel like I had gotten much bonding time with Silas and what time I did get was full of sobbing, frustration, and feelings of failure.  I felt like all of those insecurities had just been confirmed.  I wasn't enough.  I couldn't take care of him.  I couldn't even provide for him.  He was only four days old and I'd already failed him completely.  Like I said, I'd been listening to lies.

That first weekend with Silas was probably the toughest weekend I have ever had.  That whole first week was a battle.  Mama and baby continued to end nursing sessions completely distraught.  There were many times when I let negative self talk get in my way. 

I was angry with God.  I cried out to him,"WHY?"  I didn't understand how a God who designed my body to feed my child could let this happen.  Why would he take this away?

There were just as many times when my wonderful husband stepped in and did what he could to comfort me and our son.  There were even a few times when he did what had to be done for both of us and ordered me to bed while he took care of Silas.

At first I resented these efforts on Andrew's part.  Soon enough though I regained perspective and was so grateful to him.  Eventually I realized that my sinking into an emotional black hole wasn't helping anyone...especially not Silas.  I took action.  I reached out to several friends who I knew would provide a backbone of support and prayer.  I also called my counselor and asked for an appointment ASAP.

On Monday Silas had another doctor appointment to do a weight check.  We had heard back from the lab over the weekend that his jaundice levels were normal, so his weight was now our only concern.

Doctor Ellis had the nurse do Silas' measurements and weigh him.  When he came in to the room to talk to us I was praying it was better.  Doctor Ellis started off by asking me how I was.  I told him fine.  He asked me pointedly about my depression.  I assured him it was under control.  He apologized again for the pain this was obviously bringing me and then told us that he had some good news.

Silas had gained weight.  He was now only 17% down from his birth weight.  This was good news!  Dr. Ellis wanted us to continue to supplement but gave me the go ahead to start trying to get Silas back to breastfeeding.  Answered prayer.

That night and the next were still very hard.  When I sat down to nurse Silas refused.  More tears.  More frustration.  More lies.

When I saw Silas take the bottle eagerly, my heart broke all over again.  I was angry.  I was devastated.  I knew nursing would be hard.  His eagerness for the bottle over the breast would make it even harder.  I wasn't sure how to get started again.  I needed help.

So once again I reached out to the circle of women I had surrounded myself with.  They prayed.  They encouraged.  They offered help.  One of them was April Clay. 

Tuesday, January 8th, I got up with a goal: nursing.  I realized that the doctor had just told us the day before that we could start transitioning off of the formula, but I was determined.   The sooner we could get off the formula and stop depending on the bottle so much, the better off both Silas and I would be.  By that afternoon though I was exhausted and no closer to figuring out how to get Silas to latch on, stay latched on, and eat.  I needed help.  I texted April.

That evening April  made arrangements with the Lokey's to watch her kiddos while she came to my rescue.  Once she arrived we headed to the nursery to get down to business.  Andrew joined us.  Something I was so glad for.  He wanted to support me.  He wanted to know how this was supposed to work so that he could understand how to help me. 

Let me just say this:  If you ever need a coach in your corner, April Freakin' Clay is your gal.  We've taken to calling her the lactation guru/coach/genius at our house.  And Mister Silas owes a lot to his sweet Aunt April.  She spent about an hour helping me figure out what positions worked best for us, how to get Silas to latch on and stay on, giving me advice and encouragement for how to make this whole nursing thing work. 

When April left, Andrew just looked at me and said,"We should have called her last week.  It took her an hour to give you back your confidence.  You can totally do this now!"  Folks, that just about says it all.  He was right.  I felt confident.  I felt supported.  I COULD do this.

Within a couple of days we stopped giving Silas the formula.  I was still pumping and letting Andrew give him a bottle when a nursing session wasn't going well, but no more formula.  By the end of that week, we were nursing like pros.  It was amazing the transformation that happened in our boy.  He was content.  He was relaxed.  And mama was pretty changed too.  Those lies that had been gripping me were exposed.  I let them go.  I stepped into the light of Truth.  And Father lovingly reminded me that He'd been there all along.  He just needed me to see that I needed Him.  

We had another weight check that next week.  Silas still wasn't gaining the way that he should, but Dr. Ellis was willing to let me keep breastfeeding exclusively for a week and see what happened.  Silas took the opportunity to have a growth spurt and now that Auntie April had taught him to eat,  he did.  Oh how he ate.  And ate.  And ate.  To the point that mama was having to remind herself that this was good and that we fought so hard for it and it was worth it.  I was exhausted but also thankful.  Being kept up all night by a ravenous newborn was a good thing at this point.  It beat being kept up all night by a frustrated and upset newborn.

We went back for another weight check yesterday.  Dr.  Ellis was so pleased and excited to tell me the results that he could barely contain himself.  Six pounds, nine ounces! He was officially gaining at a 30grams a day rate, which was our original goal.  We had done it!

The last 3 weeks with my son has been one of the hardest experiences of my life.  I have never been more worn emotionally, spiritually, and physically all at once.  I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I have learned so much about myself and the Lord the last couple of weeks.  I have finally recognized the lengths a parent will go to for their child...it makes the fact that God calls himself our Father so much sweeter...deeper...meaningful.  When I look at the last three weeks in comparison to what our Father in heaven has done for us: forget about it.  I can never again doubt these things about my God and King:  He loves me.  He will fight for me.  He will not give up on me.  He is on my side.

The Buzz on Bumblebee Pt. 2

As we drove to Norman to possibly have a baby we were both fairly calm...in that freaking out on the inside, being brave on the outside kind of way.  We talked some about what we expected to happen, fears about delivery, thoughts on our son, hopes, dreams, etc.  We were quiet a lot too.  I think we both were anxious to see if we would deliver a baby that night and sort of hoping we'd have more time to prepare for the reality of caring for him on the outside of the womb.

We arrived at the hospital around 4pm on Sunday, December 30th and signed in for an OB Check.  The RN came in and checked me and set me up on the monitors.  I was still dilated at a 3 ("almost 4") and my contractions were anywhere from 3-5 minutes apart to 6-7 minutes apart at times.  She decided to keep me for observation and see. 

An hour and a half later the RN checked me again.  I was dilated to a 4.  My contractions were more consistently still in the 5 minute range.  She decided she would call the doctor and see what she thought. 

Around 6pm the RN returned checked my monitors one more time and then excused herself saying,"I'll be right back".  She told us later that she had called the doctor again to tell her that she felt strongly that I be admitted.  The doctor trusted her RN and took her advice.  The RN was convinced that we'd be back later in the evening if she sent us home and knowing that we were from Ardmore didn't want us having to make a fast trip back.  Considering how quick my labor progressed after that, I am so thankful she did.

By 6:30 pm we were all checked into the delivery room and beginning to grasp the reality of the situation.  The nurses all kept commenting on how calm I was.  They couldn't believe that I was so calm and it was my first child.  I'm not sure how calm I actually was but I was at peace with the situation.  And relieved.   I don't think I realized how anxious I actually was until they told me I was staying and there would be a baby in my arms soon. 

The evening really kind of flew by.  Before I knew it, my contractions were getting closer together and my back labor was really kicking in.  Soon enough I was getting the epidural.  At this point, Andrew and I both really began to recognize that this was really, really happening.  Andrew started calling the essential people...family, close friends.  We knew that it would be late when Bumblebee arrived, so we told everyone to just stay put and be praying.  They could all come say hi in the morning. 

Around 11pm, the delivery nurse announced that we'd be preparing to push soon.  I can't really explain how I felt at this moment.  It was a mix of "Oh Jesus!" , relief, and "NOW?!".  Oy. 


By 11:30pm we were pushing.  Originally I think we both envisioned that Andrew would just kind of be there to hold my hand and mutter encouraging words occasionally from a safe perch near my head.  But the delivery nurse had a different vision.  For which we are both so thankful.  One of the things that I loved the most was that Andrew got to be so hands on involved in the process. 

The doctor who would be delivering Bumblebee was wrapping up a surgery when the pushing started.  So the RN put Andrew to work.  She had him turn on the baby warmer and tell her when it was ready.  Then she had him help me get into position for pushing.  Next she had him help me support my left leg (the epidural was really kicked in on that side) and when we started pushing, Andrew was right there in the middle of it.  I will never forget the complete awe in his voice when he announced," I see his head!"

The room was completely calm.  Andrew and the nurse both encouraged and cheered me on.  The entire process flew by so quickly.  The doctor arrived and by 12:06am on December 31st Silas Allen was here.  Our Bumblebee was born.  (The nurses told me that I shouldn't tell anyone that I only pushed for about 30 minutes as it could cause some resentment.)

I told Andrew afterwards that I feel pretty silly saying this considering how much I complained about pregnancy: Labor and Delivery was AMAZING.  I absolutely loved every single minute of it.  Even the icky parts.  Even the painful parts.  I truly enjoyed the birth process.  I know, I must be a crazy person.   We had a wonderful experience bringing our boy into the world.

The most amazing moment of my life was when I heard that baby boy scream and the doctor lifted him up for us to see.  It was gloriously beautiful. And in an instant every wall I've ever built up around my heart came crashing down, irrevocably broken. It was devastatingly wonderful.  And when they placed that little boy in my arms...oh my goodness, there were not enough words to adequately thank the Lord for what He'd blessed me with.  I was overwhelmed with gratitude and humility. 

**Part 3 covering the hospital stay, coming home, and week one to come soon.  Stay tuned!

The Buzz on Bumblebee Pt. 1

A LOT has happened in my life over the last few months.  I haven't blogged as much about it as I had hoped I would.  And there is no way to play catch up.  So I'm just gonna do a quick review and then dive into where we are today.

About 8 1/2ish months ago I discovered that Andrew and I were parents...I was pregnant!  Andrew was thrilled, I was scared to death. Ha ha.

Life has been crazy ever since.  I quickly discovered that pregnancy is not my cup of tea.  I kind of hated it to be blunt.  And I had a relatively easy pregnancy so I really had no right to complain.  But I just hated not feeling like I had control of my own body.  I hated being sick all the time.  I hated not being able to work out or run.

Don't get me wrong.  There were some really cool parts.  The first time I felt him move.  The day we found out he was indeed a he.  Feeling him kick and squirm.  Yeah,  I did kinda love that part of it.  To be honest, I kind of regret spending so much time hating being pregnant.   I wish I had chosen to enjoy it more.

When Andrew and I found out we were pregnant we knew it was going to be a big deal for our families.  This was a first grand baby.  (Although my sister beat me by 2 1/2 months, my parents still feel like they got a 2-for-1 bargain...they got TWO first grand-babies at the same time.)  He was also a first great-grand baby for Andrew's grandparents (a first great-grandson for Charlie's mom).  That being said...everyone wants to know everything about him.

So we decided that we wanted to keep something about him just for us.  His name.  We knew we had to call him something so we chose a nickname: Bumblebee.  We had chosen his real name right before we found out he was a boy.  But to the world he would be Bumblebee until birth.

Bumblebee was actually Andrew's idea, but I had kind of thought about it too, so when he brought it up I knew it was meant to be.  We started out calling him "Baby Bancroft".  That got shortened to "Baby B".  And every time I heard someone say "Baby B", I would think "Baby Bee", then that Baby Bumblebee song would pop into my head.  ( You know the one: "I"m bringing home a baby bumblebee...")  Andrew had a similar line of thought, so the nickname stuck.

As the awe of discovering parenthood began to settle in we realized we needed to make a permanent commitment to buying a home.  We had been renting since we got married and had talked about buying a house "someday" off and on for the last year.  But we never really got serious about it.  Then we realized our apartment wasn't big enough for a 3rd Bancroft.  And the more we looked at bigger apartments and houses to rent, the more we realized the rent was pretty comparable to a mortgage.  It was time to bite the bullet and commit to finding our first home.

As we looked at houses and compared wants versus needs we just couldn't seem to find what we were looking for.  And we had a deadline.  Bumblebee was due in early January and we wanted to be moved before I was too far into pregnancy so that it didn't wear me out.  Eventually we talked to friends who had built in a new housing addition.  Andrew decided we should talk to the contractor and see if this could be a good fit for us.  In June, we signed a contract to start building our home.  By September we were ready to move in.

We actually moved in later in September because the mortgage company had the wrong closing date listed and didn't finish their part on time.  So that put us moving in right as I was getting very busy with "work".  I volunteer my time to a girls' ministry called Individually Designed Ministries (aka I.D. Ministries) and we were busy getting ready for a huge conference in November.  I was in charge of registration.

We got moved in around mid-September, Converge Conference happened in early November, and then the holidays came.  And so did Bumblebee.

From the very beginning I was convinced that my little boy would be a Christmas baby.  I just had this gut feeling that he would arrive just after Christmas.  Turns out I was right (sort of).  So while the doctor estimated a due date of January 14th, 2013, I kept thinking he would come late December 2012.  Silas Allen Bancroft was born at 12:06am on December 31, 2012.

Let me back up and tell you how we got there.

On December 11th I woke up not feeling quite right.  I'd been having some cramping and what I assumed were Braxton Hicks all weekend.  When I went to the restroom that morning I noticed some spotting, enough that I worried.

After much debating, I texted Nikki Lokey and asked her advice.  This is usually what happens when I know what I should do but want someone to tell me anyway.  She's pretty great at that. A phone call to my doctor was in order.

I hesitated calling my doctor because I knew that the nurse would probably tell me to go ahead and drive up to the hospital to get checked.  This would mean telling Andrew.  It would also mean a long drive to Norman with a nervous Daddy/Hubby worrying himself over his little family for what was probably nothing.  I really didn't want to be the cause of that.

After a short conversation with the nurse, it was settled.  I would need to go get checked out just to make sure everything was normal.  It most likely was, but erring on the side of caution is never frowned upon in pregnancy.

I told Andrew what was going on and of course he went into worry mode.  My hubby loves me and this baby.  A LOT.

At the hospital, the RN decided to check me and see if I should  stay for observation.  I had begun to dilate ( I was at a 1) and I was having some back labor along with the Braxton Hicks.  I was also dehydrated.  So the RN decided she would have me stay for a couple hours and just monitor me.  After a couple hours (and a GIANT jug of water) my contractions had subsided and I was less dehydrated.  She checked me again and I had dilated slightly more but not enough to classify more than still at a 1.  So home we went.

Over the next week I started paying closer attention to my contractions.  I noticed they had picked up slightly but were still totally normal for the stage of pregnancy I was in.  On December 18th I had another doctor appointment.  This appointment would confirm what we were beginning to expect.

As Dr. Anderson checked me she very quickly discovered that Bumblebee was already quite low and getting ready for his arrival.  She also discovered that I was already dilated to a 3.  I will never forget the look of surprise on her face as she checked me or the sheer panic on my husbands when she gasped.  I couldn't help but laugh right there.

After both doctor and husband regained their composure, Dr. Anderson announced that she was fairly confident in predicting that Bumblebee would be arriving well before our scheduled induction date of January 9th.  In fact, she predicted a New Year's baby.  I'd say she was pretty accurate.

Over the next week, I just continued to feel more "blah" for lack of a better term.  My contractions were still pretty steady.  Some days I hurt and some days I didn't.  We had another appointment the Friday after Christmas.  This time we sat down with our RN, Penny, and just went through questions we had, listened to baby's heartbeat, etc.  Dr. Anderson had left strict instructions that I was not to be checked...she was concerned that it would send me into labor.

As we talked with Penny she could tell that I was very uncomfortable that day.  She asked me about my contractions and how I was feeling.  She even gave me a pep talk and shared some of her pregnancy experiences.  Penny also advised us that if my contractions began to become more steady at 3-5 minutes apart then she wanted us to go ahead and go to the hospital.  She suspected with the way things were already progressing that labor wouldn't be a long ordeal for me.  And since we were driving from Ardmore to Norman to deliver, why take chances?

Saturday, January 29th my contractions began to be a bit more intense.  They had hurt this bad before but never for as long.  So I started timing contractions again.  8-10 minutes.  6-7 minutes.  5-6 minutes...steadily 5-6 minutes.  It wasn't 3-5 minutes...but it was 5...should I go?  Should I wait?  I didn't feel like I was about to go into labor...I just felt incredibly uncomfortable...and now I was anxious.

I  decided to tell my husband that I thought we might need to go to Norman soon.  We spent the rest of the day debating back and forth about what we should do.  Andrew got so anxious that he started creating charts and data flow sheets in Excel based on my contractions.  You read that right.  He spent hours "collecting data" and analyzing it.  It kept him calm.  I love that we have the charts to show his son some day.  I can't wait for him to see the tangible evidence of how badly his Daddy wanted him to be here.

We ended up deciding to wait out the night and see if the contractions continued to stay 5 minutes apart.  I didn't sleep well.  I was in some pain, uncomfortable, and anxious.  I prayed a lot that night.

The next morning was Sunday.  We got up, got dressed, and went to church.  By the time we arrived at church I was feeling even more "blah".  I sought Nikki Lokey out and asked her what she thought.  My contractions hadn't sped up but they were definitely still 5 minutes apart consistently.  I was also feeling worse and worse.  We both agreed that the worst that could happen was I go to the hospital, get checked, and they send me home.  But what if it was time to have a baby?  Did I really want to take a chance on waiting too long?  That settled it.  I pulled Andrew aside and we made a plan to go to Norman after church and just get me checked out.

Our plans got a little derailed after church.  Andrew's grandparents wanted to take us to lunch.  We weren't sure how to decline without letting slip that we thought I might be heading into labor...and what if I wasn't??  We didn't want them worrying or trying to drive up to the hospital for a false alarm, so we accepted their invitation and prayed that I could make it through lunch.  It was the longest meal I have ever sat through.

When we were leaving and had gotten into our car I looked at Andrew and said..."Yeah...let's go to Norman.  Now."  I wasn't feeling good at all.  I still wasn't sure that they wouldn't send us back home, but I also knew that if I had dilated more, then this could be a worthwhile trip.

So we went home, packed the car up as if we planned to stay at the hospital that night and headed up to Norman.  Neither of us knew what to expect.  We were both plenty nervous.  And we both had one thought trumpeting through our minds:  Will we have a baby tonight??

*Story will be continued in next blog post.  Stay tuned! 

Raising A Child in a Facebook Obsessed Society

If you're my age or older, then you probably grew up in a time when the extent of making sure kids were protected from being exploited, stolen, or molested was making sure they knew the "stranger/danger" rules.  You know: Don't Talk To Strangers, Don't Go Anywhere By Yourself,  Always Tell An Adult If You've Been Approached By A Stranger, Don't Take Anything (whether it be candy or a cute little puppy) From Strangers, Etc.  These rules kept us safe.  These rules made our parents feel safer.  They worked...for the most part.  But the rules have changed.  They've had to in today's technology driven society.

Most of you know that I work with teenagers on a weekly basis.  I am a youth worker at our church and I work closely with a teenage girls ministry.  Because of this I've had to educate myself over the years about the dangers and risks our kids are exposed to.  One of the biggest concerns parents, educators, mentors, etc. have to deal with today is TECHNOLOGY.  It's everywhere.  It's accessible.  And our kids know how to find, use it, and move on to the next new thing before we've even got a grasp on the last tech fad.  And here's the disturbing part: people who target our kids for exploitation of any kind, know this, and are keeping up with them. 

In the last decade alone we've seen the popularity explosion of social media sites like Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, Xanga, Tumblr, Instagram, etc.  And for the most part we probably view them as harmless fun.  But if you look at the news, with the growth of these sites we've also seen an increase in issues like cyber-bullying (and bullying in general), sexting, kids posting pics of themselves in provocative dress/pose or even nude, chat rooms dedicated to flirting and hooking up, etc.  And if you're teen is involved in any of these risky behaviors (with or without your knowledge, let's face it, they know how to keep things hidden just like we did growing up), then you can bet there's a chance they've come into contact with a "creeper" (someone who definitely is looking to take advantage). 

We live in a time where online safety is a huge issue.  And while there have been huge successes in legislating Internet and technology safety laws and statutes, and many big names have championed the platform and brought awareness and education to the public, many kids are still at risk.  They're at risk because we as parents, role models, etc., have to be more active in protecting them.  

We have to teach them why privacy settings are important and how to use them.  We have teach them why accepting friend requests from strangers or even people they barely know is risky and how to respond.  We have to teach them why it's never a good idea to post when we are out of town, when we are home alone, where we are going without our parents, etc.  We have to physically sit down with them and talk about relationships, flirting, modesty, dating, gossip, etc.  Otherwise, what they know is what they experience...online.  Oh, and we have to model this for them ourselves.  Because if we aren't doing it, you can bet they'll ignore everything we say and who can blame them?

As a new parent myself (baby boy will arrive in just a couple of months!), I was suddenly faced with the realization that I needed to figure out how I was going to protect my own child online.  I believe it has to start now with how I choose to use the Internet.  I use all the privacy settings, I make sure that I actually know the people on my friends list or have a connection with them through ministry, etc.  I even clean out my friends lists periodically to make sure I haven't gained a few "spam accounts" as friends or delete people that I never talk to or see in person, etc.  I post pictures and photo albums all the time.  And until recently, I didn't really pay attention or care about what happened to those pictures once friends and family had access to them.

It hit me all of a sudden when I saw that my mom had shared an album of mine to her own Facebook wall.  Then she shared it to my dad's Facebook wall.  Now I had no problem with that whatsoever.  It was just some maternity pictures my sister and I had taken together and she was understandably excited to share them with all of her friends.  In fact, I had already planned on sharing the album to her but she saw them come up in her newsfeed before I was finished arranging my album.

I'm not sure I would have thought any more about it except that in that moment I realized...I thought I had set the privacy setting on that to the one where only my friends could see these pictures. I very specifically used the custom privacy setting for friends only and turned off the option that friends of friends could view the album.  But obviously mom had shared the album and now her friends were liking and commenting on them on her page.  People I didn't personally know now had access to pictures of me.  

What the heck, Facebook?  I can set my privacy settings all I want but ultimately, anyone who can see my pictures can do whatever they want with them.  My immediate thought was for the outrageous number of pictures I had just posted of my nephew (my newest obsession).  My next thought was for my own son and any pictures I might post of him later on.

Now, don't get me wrong,  I love that my mom was proud of her girls and excited enough that she wanted to share the pictures of us.  And I love that she's excited about being grams and wants to show everyone how adorable her grand kids are (Wyatt is undeniably the cutest thing I've ever seen, and I have no doubts that my son will be just as deliciously precious).  BUT, there was this little inkling of doubt in my mind about the safety of her friends list.  

My mom is a "friend maker".  She has a huge heart and loves to take people under her wing and be their friend.  She is a member of every group ever invented on Facebook I think.  Because she loves to meet people and learn new things.  This has and always will be an admirable quality of hers.  I don't make friends easily and I hope that her openness and friendliness will be something my child inherits from her.

My concern lies in that many of the people she's "met" in these groups have graduated up to her friends list.  She's never actually met these people in person (many are even international) and she only knows them online.  In her mind, they are her friends.  They would never be bad people or people that would take advantage of her kids/grand kids.  She would never put us or our kiddos in danger.  

And I know that this is true about her...but what she doesn't really understand is that it's not about my not trusting her judgement.  It's about me knowing that who a person says they are online can be anything they want and doesn't necessarily mean that they are who they say they are in reality.

Mom grew up in the "stranger/danger" era.  She raised kids in the "stranger/danger" era.  But the "stranger/danger" era didn't account for the Internet or online friends or Facebook.  So understandably, she never thought about the implications of allowing people that don't personally know her in the real world access to pictures of her kids/grand kids.  And obviously, I didn't think about it either until just that minute.

Now, I know that I can never 100% protect my kid from the dangers this twisted and wicked world holds for him.  I know that someday, somehow, he will be exposed to something terrible and heartbreaking for this mama.  I know that eventually I have to let go of him and trust the Lord to guide his steps.  But I also know that just because I trust the Lord, it doesn't mean that I should sit back and do nothing.  That would be stupid. And anyone who says differently is an idiot.  The Lord can protect us by instilling cautious instincts and providing appropriate boundaries too.

So as I pondered just how I was going to raise this child in a Facebook drenched world, and how on earth I was going to do the best I could to protect him from harm as far and as long as it was possible for me to do so, I had to think about boundaries I wanted to put in place for him and my family.  I know that I can use my privacy settings to allow only certain people to see my pics (instead of all of my friends).  I know that my husband can do the same. 

But did I have any right to ask others to execute certain precautions, i.e. our immediate families?  Well, boundaries are about loving people the best that we can.  So, knowing that I love our family and they love us, I decided that at least opening a dialogue with them about this would be an OK option.

I came up with a few things that I thought might help my Facebook conundrum:  
1. If you take the picture, I can't tell you what to do with it.  That's up to you.  It's yours.  (This is me trusting the Lord.)
2.  If I take the picture and share it to you, then I by default have given you leave to do what you want with it.  (Again, me trusting...) 
3.  If you are looking at pictures that I have posted but not shared directly to you, then I only ask that you check with me before sharing it yourself.  Or if you see a pic that you love and think your friends would love, by all means, ask me to share it to you and if I feel it's appropriate I will do so.  (Hey, look at all this trust going on...)

I sent these possibilities on to our family with an explanation of why and how, etc., and asked them what they thought. 

Some were upset and offended that I would try to restrict them or question their trustworthiness or the trustworthiness of their friends.  These even went so far as to say they would never even look at my pictures again, that if I wanted them to see them, then I could just share them to them myself, etc.  (Obviously a bad start to my first efforts.)

Others fully supported my attempt to come up with a solution but cautioned me not to let "new mother fear" rule my decisions. (OK, a little better response, but seemingly, my intent was still lost.)
 
Some saw the logic in it but didn't want to actually have to go to the "trouble" of all of that. (Really? it makes sense, but you don't want to have to actually do it? That was a sad little thought.)

Others thought I was loony toons and should work out some of my trust issues. (They've apparently failed to notice how much I have worked on these things in counseling the last couple of years.)

So basically, I had just either severely upset members of my family unintentionally, or caused others to question my ability to think rationally just because I'm preggers and this is my first biological kid.  (Never mind my decade of experience working with kids and in several instances being the only "parent" they had.)   Great.

As I was pondering through these responses/reactions I did eventually think,'I could just never post pictures on Facebook.'  But honestly, I've fallen into that trap of Facebook being the only way to communicate with certain members of my family.  They either live too far away and/or we don't see each other often, or I don't even have a clue what their email address is (and neither do some of them! They only got an email account so they could get on Facebook and don't remember how to access it!).  So yeah...Facebook really is just the easiest way to do it.  And my first attempt at Facebook boundaries was shaping up to be a disaster.  Now what?

I'm honestly not sure.  I could possibly create a private group and only allow family and close friends to access it.  But that doesn't solve my problem of grandparents wanting to share pictures.  I wish it were as easy as saying,' if you took it, you post it'.  But Andrew's parents live in Florida.  Most of the pictures they get will be ones we take and share with them.  My parents don't have a camera.  So again, unless we share it with them, they won't have pics of their own.  And naturally, they all have family and friends they want to share with too.  I don't want to keep them from that.

Perhaps I am overreacting as some family members implied.  Maybe I should just get over it and post pictures and not worry about where those pictures go and who accesses them.  And maybe I should never have tried to set the boundary with anyone other than myself and my husband.  I don't know.  Now I'm in a quandary.  I don't know what the best solution is or if there even is one. 

What do I know?  That my parents never had to even think about this and I am incredibly jealous.  And someday, my kid may have to think through situations that I never had to either.  For that I apologize now, kiddo.  And if I don't understand at first, please remind me of the great Facebook Fiasco of 2012.

So, I'm back where I started.  How do I teach and model online safety and protection of privacy for my kid starting now?  What does it look like?  How do I pour the foundation for his future safety? 

I hate when a question only leads to more questions...

To be or not to be...

Growing up, my mom and I always talked about whether or not using the term "mom to be" was appropriate or not.  She and I both thought...why "to be"? Aren't you a mom, the second that baby starts to exist?
You see, Mom had always been very honest with me about the fact that I wasn't her first child.  I have a brother or sister in heaven.  I always think it's a sister...mom always thinks it's a brother. Someday I'll get to know for sure.  I always wanted a brother...so that would be cool if mom is right.
But we always used specific terms with that baby.  It wasn't an "almost" baby.  (Seriously, someone said that once.)  It was my big brother or sister.  And mom always referred to the baby as her first child.  I knew that she had miscarried at 4 months and that the shock and pain had been as real as if she'd held that baby in her arms.  
That knowledge and honesty helped shape my own opinion of that "to be" or not "to be" issue.  That coupled with the fact that God tells us in His Word when life begins...the moment that baby is conceived.  As Christians, we believe that right?  We spend millions of dollars on pro-life/anti-abortion campaigns.  We have argued and fought and forced legislation through our respective political affiliations.  We believe that life begins at conception.

If we believe that life begins at conception...then why do we tell a mom that she isn't really a mom until a baby is born?


I know my mom was pained on many occasions by that careless opinion.  Her own healing process was made even harder because she felt like no one really understood how connected she was to that baby...her baby.  Her child.  She was a mom without a child.  But according to everyone around her...she wasn't a mom.  Not yet.  To them, she wouldn't be a mom until that first moment when she held me in the hospital after I was born into this world.  I can't imagine that.  To know something so wholly with your heart and mind...and to also have everyone around you simply brush over it.  Heartbreaking.

About a week before I found out I was pregnant my sweet friend told me her baby had gone to be with Jesus.  She will never get to hold that sweet little family member in this world...but oh how glorious the day when they meet face to face in eternity!!  I kinda hope I get to see that.
Through different conversations with my friend, I knew that she too felt the pain of knowing that for a few brief weeks here on earth she'd been a mom to a baby she wouldn't get to see here and now. Now she was a mom who's baby lived in heaven. She'd also felt the pain of others just not understanding that.  I was thankful for my own mom's honesty with me growing up and for her part in helping me understand that a mom is a mom...the moment that baby is conceived.  I was thankful that I was able to pray for my friend with that in mind.  I was thankful that I didn't add to the pain she was experiencing.

Since we started telling friends and family about our baby, I have had to take the "to be" comments with as much grace as possible.  But my patience has started to wear thin.  I am a mom.  Not a future mom or a mom to be...a MOM.  Now.

I voiced my current mom hood recently.  A family member was confused about why I had bought Andrew a Father's Day card and was excited about it being his "first" Father's Day.  (I was actually pregnant on Mother's Day and was so sad that I didn't get to celebrate my first one because I didn't know yet.).  They felt it was silly that I was asserting our parenthood status.  Specifically I was told...your not a mom yet.  To which I replied, "Oh yes, I am. And Andrew is a dad."   This family member then specified that I wasn't technically a mom until I physically held that baby in my arms.  I firmly re-stated that I was already a mom and that I became a mom that second that baby was conceived.  They disagreed and we left it at that.  No sense in causing family drama.  But my question that night was...if we truly believe that life begins at conception, why (WHY?!) do we not believe that parents begin there too?

My mom has a child in heaven.  Her child has a mommy on earth.  My friend Lisa, has a child in heaven.  Her child has a mommy on earth.  I have a child.  And that child most certainly has a mommy and daddy who loves them  right now and forever.  Not to be.  Never to be.  Always.  From the moment they were known by God who knit them together to the moment eternity comes and beyond.

So to be or not to be?  Not to be.  A hundred times over.

Baby!

On May 16th, 2012 about 2:30 p.m., I found out that we were parents.  Like, actual parents...to an actual human being.  It's not just my fur-babies anymore.   There's this amazing new life being woven together inside of me...God is seriously so cool.
I still have worries and fears and doubts.  But, I also have this sense of awe and wonder.  Every time I start to feel overwhelmed or start to freak out...God quietly whispers...look at what I've done...really look at it...now doesn't that deserve some reverence and worship?  Of course it does! And how can I be bothered with worry or fear when I am praising the One who creates?
I already love this baby so much.  Ridiculously and unashamedly.  So much so that I already find it hard to remember that he or she does not belong to me.  Baby B may be ours to love and protect and teach...but Baby B belongs to the Lord.  Always to the Lord.
Father,
May you always gently remind me that You are the One with the plan.  May I never lose sight of You and Your faithfulness.  May I continue to look to You and to remember that to trust and obey You, is more valuable than any other thing on this earth.
Amen.

Happily Ever After

Every time I start to believe the dream is real, 

More lies crowd in trying to reveal,

The flaw in the fairy tale.

I don't know what to believe, 

The lies sound closer to the truth these days.

You tell me happily ever after does exist,

So when does it begin?

The clock is striking midnight, 

The dragon has laid it's trap,

The curse is sinking in and

I feel just like the princess, 

Locked up in a tower.

I need a prince who will fight for me,

I need a knight in shining armor.

Even now I wonder,

Does he even exist?

And just when I think the dragon will win,

There You are again...

"I am your charming Prince, I am your hero Knight", you say.

"I'm right here and I will fight for you, 

The dragon I will slay.

No striking clock will end what I've begun,

No dragon's plot could ever be cunning enough,

No curse could ever be unbroken,

No tower tight could keep you from My love."

Every time I start to trade the lie for my perfect fairy tale, 

You sing out to me pointing out the flaws, 

The lies that try to steal.

Gently calling me to fall in love,

You reveal to me my happily ever does exist,

I have found that it is You.

Trust & Obey

I 've had the old hymn "Trust and Obey" stuck in my head for a week.  It just popped in there and hung around for a bit.  It was never one that particularly struck a chord with me or one of my top ten go-to hymns, but there it was.  I think the fact that it's a pretty good summary of my journey right now isn't coincidental.  Jesus says,'Trust Me', and I say,"I'll obey" has been the ebb and flow of me for a few months now.

Today, I sat working on some things and again, that old tune started up.  So, in an effort to get it out of my head, I googled it.  There they were: the lyrics.  Yes, I thought, I'll sing it a couple times and get it out of my head and move on.  The music started up and I glanced at the first verse and began to sing.  By verse two, I was unable to sing because the tears were flowing quickly and my voice was too thick with emotion to continue.

When we walk with the Lord
  In the light of His Word,
What a glory He sheds on our way;
  While we do His good will,
  He abides with us still,
And with all who will trust and obey.

• Trust and obey,
  For there's no other way
  To be happy in Jesus,
    But to trust and obey.

Not a shadow can rise,
  Not a cloud in the skies,
But His smile quickly drives it away;
  Not a doubt or a fear,
  Not a sigh or a tear,
Can abide while we trust and obey.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.  Look at the words.  Read them. Soak them in.  When we walk with the Lord, glory He sheds on our way, no shadow, no fear, no doubt, He drives them away while we trust and obey.  I have never felt more fearless...I've been trusting and obeying...I've never been so happy, even in the face of adversity, I've been trusting and obeying. 

Not a burden we bear,
  Not a sorrow we share,
But our toil He doth richly repay;
  Not a grief or a loss,
  Not a frown or a cross,
But is blest if we trust and obey.

My burdens? My sorrows? He repays them, He blesses me through them.  I truly get that now.

But we never can prove
  The delights of His love,
Until all on the altar we lay;
  For the favor He shows,
  And the joy He bestows,
Are for them who will trust and obey.

This verse echoes in my heart: But we never can prove the delights of His love, until all on the altar we lay.  It's deep down Truth.  Until I trusted him and layed down all I had on the altar of obedience, I could never have enjoyed the delight of His love the way that I do now.  It is so much richer, sweeter, fuller...

Shift

I had a conversation with a former co-worker this week that ended up kinda blowing my mind.  It lasted about 20 minutes, but I still can't stop thinking about it and what resulted in my own heart because of it.  My whole world shifted because of one little light bulb moment.


The best way I can convey what happened to me is to recount the conversation and how God used it to stir something in me:


I visited my former workplace this week and began to talk to a former co-worker.  We had a 20 minute conversation about what I've been doing, my ministry efforts, and it turned to my desire to visit Ghana and actually help at Pearl House as a volunteer sporadically in the future.  This also led to talking about the issue of human trafficking and why I think Pearl House can make a difference.  


By the end of the conversation my co-worker looks at me and says: 
"I'm really glad that you're doing something you're passionate about and using it to get involved in this trafficking project and it's great that it upsets you BUT, don't let it drive you crazy. I mean you can't fix it or do a whole lot, I'd hate for you to go crazy over this and turn into one of those radicals. You're a good girl!"


I told her I would try not to be a crazy person and we parted. But inside my head Jesus and I were having another conversation:
Me: Huh, when did I become in danger of becoming a "radical"? And when did being called a "good girl" start to make me feel like it was a bad thing?
Jesus: Is being considered radical that bad?
Me: I don't feel radical.
Jesus: In her world you are.
Me: That's very sad.
Jesus: There's more.
Me: What?
Jesus: There's more. This is just the beginning.
Me: Oh dear. Beginning of what?
Jesus: You felt "radical" for the first time today because someone noticed that you have changed in the few months since you left here.
Me: I haven't changed THAT much...have I?
Jesus: You have. And it's radically different from the you that worked here.


In that tiny little moment I realized what God had been doing in me for the last few months.  For me, over time, it didn't seem like I was changing or had any major spiritual leaps.  But in one tiny moment, God moved the curtain a little and I was able to see what He had done in technicolor, wide screen, 3D, whatever you wanna call it, through the vantage point of someone on the outside of my life looking in.  A beacon of light broke down from the heavens and highlighted every little step I had taken and gave me a vision of who I was, who I am becoming, and who I could be.  BAM.  Shift.  Wow.  It was shocking.  Overwhelming. Breath taking.


Me: OH CRAP. YOU'RE RIGHT.
Jesus: And THAT is just the beginning.
Me: Whoa. I think my world just shifted a little. I'm excited and frightened and... Do I need to know anymore right now? Because I think I might freak out.
Jesus, with a definite smile in His voice: That's all for now. But you need to be ready for the rest.
End conversation.


My life and my heart are forever changed because of that itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, little glimpse from God.  I am a little less selfish.  I am a little more aware of my surroundings.  I realized I have a heart.  I can be compassionate.  I can be PASSIONATE.  


I find myself for the first time more willing that I have ever been to actually be fearless for the Lord and His calling.  Of course I'm terrified, but to be fearless doesn't mean I am unafraid...just willing to move beyond that crippling fear and into the freedom of obedience and life in Christ.  Being fearful= inaction.  Being fearless=action.  Make sense?


I don't know what's happening to me or where I'm headed.   I know it's Christ in me moving me towards something big.  I'm ready.  Bring it on.  I don't think I could ever look back now.