and ?

November 21st. The evening before Thanksgiving we were at my in-laws spending the night. I had a feeling that day that I may be "late" for a reason other than my cycle adjusting as it is sometimes prone to do. I snuck out of the house for a quick trip to the pharmacy. Within 5 minutes of my return I knew I was right. There were two lines on the stick. But they were faint so I needed to reassure myself by taking another test.

I spent the evening texting HH trying to use my super human powers to get him to check his phone that was most likely in his locker, which is where he's supposed to keep it while at work. He did end up calling on his break in the wee hours of the morning and I told him to stop and get another test before he came to his parents the next morning. Morning pee is always better. Every woman knows that!

I met him at the door and without so much as a "hello" or greeting kiss snatched the paper bad out of his hands and was on my way to the bathroom. Once again, two lines.

We were a bit surprised. We always know it's a possibility because we do the calendar method and sometimes a person's  math can be a bit off. Even though we'd had many discussions about whether four was our number or if we wanted to have more and hadn't come up with an answer I was excited. And at peace. I just kept looking at my other babies and thinking, "I just love them so much! Why not have another one!"

We told our parents and siblings but decided to keep it a secret from everyone else. I had a plan. I don' usually wait to say something. To me, as soon as there are two lines I want to tell everyone. That baby, as small as it may be, is a life and I want to celebrate it!

This time, however, I wanted to announce it with a Christmas card. In our almost 8 years of marriage I don't know that I've ever got Christmas cards out in the mail. Every year I plan to. I know that there were even a few years where I wrote letters and they sat for months after the New Year not being mailed. This year was going to be different and now I had a good incentive!

November 27th. I order cards from Costco. I picked out a picture of each of the kids and one of me and HH together, arranged them on the card. I already knew what I wanted to say on the card. I just hoped there is room. There is and it reads:

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we!

Let all within us praise His holy name!

Nathan, Shiree, Abiah,

Hazel, Amelia, Jackson, and ?

The first two lines are from the third verse of my favorite Christmas carol, O Holy Night. They speak of joy that we feel and the praise we raise. And then there are the names. Mine scratched with those of  my favorite people on this spinning ball. And we are praising and rejoicing in the gift He has given this year. We talk about the future and the kids debate: girl or boy.

Three days later I wake with what feels like the worst gas pain in the universe. It's a half hour before HH is due to be home but I call him anyways because something inside me says this isn't right. He assures me he's on his way home. I try to go to the bathroom and end up in the shower letting the hot water run down my back. By the time HH does get home the pain has subsided. 

The whole ordeal lasted around 45 minutes and I assume that my original suspicions are correct. Gas. Of the "makes you wanna gouge your eyes out" variety.

The next day. Saturday, December 1st. The kids and I wake and prepare for our monthly grocery shopping expedition including shopping for all the Christmas goodies we plan to make for friends and family. We are taking my MIL along with us. We get to her house around 10:15 and begin the crazy adventure right away.

Fred Meyers

Goodwill drop-off

Bi-Mart

Safeway

When we get to Safeway I start to feel hungry. I push it aside knowing that we will eat after this stop. By the time we leave about and hour and a half later I'm having pain in my stomach. I assume it's because I've waited to long to eat. We pick up some food and head back to my MIL's to put cold food in her fridge. When we leave there I'm still in pain and it's getting worse, but I still think it's gas. In fact I think it's gas all the way through the rest of our shopping day:

Dave's Killer Bread

Bob's Red Mill

Trader Joe's

Party City

Micheal's

Penzy's

Winco (because Party City didn't have what we needed)

And finally Costco.

When we get back to my MIL's she has wisely suggested I stay at her house until HH gets off work so he can follow me home and help me with the groceries and the kids. In the meantime I head to her guest room to rest and try to get relief from what I'm still thinking is gas. My MIL had recommended calling the advice nurse and why I hadn't thought of that I don't know. 

The midwife on call and I both are now worried it may be appendicitis or a tubal pregnancy and she says to head to the ER right away. My FIL insists on driving me since HH is still at work and will have to meet me there. FIL and I leave joking around and telling fart stories and jokes on the drive and while waiting in the ER. Thankfully the initial wait isn't long. But the night did turn long. 

Because I was pregnant the first test they do is an ultra sound. They think they see a possible cyst on my right side ovary but it's too early in my pregnancy to expect to see anything in the uterus so they aren't surprised when they don't see anything there. They can't see my appendix with an ultra sound so they wanna to a CT. But they can't since I'm pregnant, so they wanna do an MRI. 

Here panic mode set in and I had to make myself do something I never wanted to do. Thankfully HH was able to stand right next to my head and hold my hand. And through the fluster of my anxiety I was able to know exactly what I needed to get through that 20 minute test: No socks. No blanket on my legs. Arms above my head. Holding HH's hand and staring into his milk chocolate eyes.

The test showed that it wasn't my appendix and showed more clearly that there was indeed something wrong with my right ovary. The OB Dr's apprehension was that it could have been a cyst that would just go away and I would have a normal pregnancy or it could be a tubal pregnancy. There were risks to doing surgery and there were risks to waiting. 

Due to the amount of pain I was I in new we just needed to do the surgery and trust that God would direct the Dr. By 4 am Sunday, December 2nd I was in surgery. Two hours later I woke up in recovery and the nurse confirmed our suspicions  Tubal pregnancy. The Dr had to remove the lower portion of my right Fallopian tube where the egg had attached itself.

This story is long. But I feel like it's not even over. I write it down because I need to. For me. I know as you read through it may have seemed hopeless and maybe a downer of a post. But through it all I've felt a sense of peace. And I've been able to see my prayers answered.

Our Christmas cards speak of the joy we feel and the praise we raise. And though initially we meant that for something else, we still are rejoicing and praising. Because even in the hard and sad times you can. And I must.

I am thankful for and rejoicing that:

My MIL was able to help me on Saturday and for the wisdom she spoke

My FIL humor and gentleness 

HH. Even after being up for over 24 hours, sat up with me all night and reassured me when I was scared, helped me through one of my worst fears, cried with me when we knew our dreams were shattering, and has always, ALWAYS, loved me unconditionally.

My beautiful babies. I miss them. They are such good kids. The are the greatest blessing.

An OB Dr who was sensitive to us and acknowledged the life growing within me but knew to take the danger seriously.

The wisdom and clarity that the Dr had during the surgery.

Coming out of anesthesia wasn't hard this time. It was peaceful and easy.

Fantastic nursing staff.

My mom and sister visiting us in the hospital. Whenever I'm hurt or sad, instinctively I want to be surrounded by three people: HH, my Mom, and my PinDin. 

The beautiful shiny bird my sister gave me in remembrance of our tiny. Put a bird on it. Makes it better.

My in-laws bringing our van load of groceries home and putting them all away. They truly are the best.

My mom coming over and cooking and organizing all the groceries I bought so they don't go to waste while I'm on two weeks of bed rest.

The friends and family who have shown an overwhelming amount of love and support with notes, texts, meals, childcare, and love.

My Jesus, who loves me so intimately that He would give me wisdom during an anxiety inducing experience, give me peace about the loss of our tiny, and gives me the reassurance that He is loving that baby for us right now. I have to believe.

The Story of We: Part 7 or Jackson's Birth Story

In Part 6 of "The Story of We" I just found out that I was expecting. And I was elated! Still am. We'll, not pregnant, but elated.

Confused yet?

Me too!

It's taken me a while to figure out how I want to relate Jackson's birth story but I think if I break it down into sections we'll be good.

Just a little FYI: This post is bound to be a little lengthy and also contains some "details" that might make men and women with an aversion to birth stories squeamish. Just sayin'.

The Decision
To induce or not induce...that was the question. Though the idea had been tossed around when Jackson was head-down at 38 weeks I had decided to wait and "let things happen on their own."

But then 41 weeks got closer and closer and knowing that Amelia was 9lbs 7oz with a 14 in head at 41 weeks and 3 days I was sure I couldn't do that again. But all I had heard about induction seemed scary and unknown. I "knew" what it was like to go into labor naturally. This, not so much.

I sent my sister, Summer, a text one day asking, "Is the pitocin THAT bad?"

She called me laughing. Which is rare (the calling part, not the laughing) since we both are NOT phone people. We likey text! And we both homeschool...'nough said. She said I reminded her of an addict looking for a fix.

Truly, I felt like one. When you've tried every at-home remedy you can find (Minus Castor oil. I forgot about that one.) and your body is in so much pain and the toilet is the only "comfortable" place to sit it's time to "GET THIS BABY OUT!"

I was desperate.

So desperate that I took all of our bags to my appointment the day before I was officially 41 weeks and begged them to keep me. They couldn't, but they did let me make an appointment to be induced the next morning (Tuesday, May 3rd) at 7:30. It's funny to me that I could be disappointed and relieved all at the same time.

Being Induced

After Summer assured me that the pitocin wasn't horrible and I had a long talk with the midwife about how I wanted the induction to go, we made a date and kept it. Well I did.

The Birthing Center called me Tuesday morning saying they had a surge of activity and needed me to wait to come in until 11. Though I was once again disappointed I was able to take that time to calm my nerves and Hot Hubby and I got to have breakfast with my parents.

We arrived at the hospital around 11 and by noon I was hooked up to the pitocin. The plan was to be on pitocin to start contractions so that Jackson would move down more. At that point they could break my water without the risk of a prolapsed cord and they would ease me off of the pitocin allowing my body to take over. Which is what happened.

The contractions weren't horrible. Though everything seemed to move along normally I was confused by my seemingly sporadic contractions. It felt like they weren't consistent enough to be progressing much. But I was wrong.

I don't know the time line of events since I was distracted by labor pains. I seem to remember that they broke my water around 3-ish. Then around 5:30-ish my contractions started getting stronger and more intense. I thought they seemed a little "back labor-ish" but wasn't quite sure.

Around 6-6:30-ish I told my mom that I just needed to sit on the toilet because that was the only thing that sounded comfortable. Up to this point I had tried standing, sitting on the bed, birthing ball and toilet and anything else that seemed like it may help.

This time when I got on the toilet it felt like I was getting close to pushing. The feeling wasn't super strong so I hesitated to say anything, thinking that I was just going to find out that I wasn't as far along as I felt and I would be disappointed.

When I finally did say something to my mom, the midwife was called into the room and I got back onto the bed. When she checked me she said I was only a 6 and not completely effaced. Like I figured I was disappointed. I was also confused because I still felt like my body was telling me something else. Since the back labor was getting more intense I didn't know how I would hold out through the pain. At this point I figured that Jackson's head was turned sideways. I was right. Thus the back labor.

The midwife had me get up on the bed and lean against the back of it so as to help Jackson move down more and in hopes that gravity would help me dilate. At this point the pain was more intense than I remember with either of the girls. I moved around and tried to "help" my body in any way that I could think of that was also bearable. Finally I told the midwife that I needed to sit because the pressure was to intense and I felt I needed something to push against.

She checked me at this point and said I was now an 8 but was less effaced then she had originally thought. The problem for me was that my body was starting to push on its own.

I don't know if you've ever experienced these kind of contractions but they are intense. I had them with Hazel but not so much with Amelia. Basically my body was physically contracting so strong that I was pushing without even meaning to. I call them "involuntary pushing contractions" but I don't know what they are really called.

I have a love/hate relationship with them. Love: because it means I'm getting closer to the end and because they are so helpful. Hate: because both times I've had them I've been told not to push because my cervix wasn't fully dilated. And when your body is pushing and you are being told NOT to push it's easy to feel like you're doing something wrong.

The midwife wanted me to use a bar that they put on the end of the bed to help Jackson's head turn and help me finish dilating. I kept saying, "But I can't!" Which, in labor speak, was supposed to mean, "I am about to have this baby and there is NO time for that!" But since I wasn't able to communicate through the pain (and I was still doubting my progress for fear of disappointment) I consented to trying the bar. At this point though, I was feeling more pressure in my rump and started to feel "the ring of fire" burning.

The bar didn't make it into the room.

The midwife turned back from asking a nurse to get the bar to find Jackson starting to crown. As I held myself up off the bed through the "involuntary pushing contractions" to try to lessen the pressure and "not push" like I was told, Jackson's 14&1/2 inch head came out followed quickly by the rest of his 20 & 3/4 inch, 9lb 6.6 oz wiggly body. He was born at 7:39 pm.

So much for a smaller baby. Compared to Amelia he was half an ounce smaller and his head was 1/2 an inch bigger!

Nathan helped deliver him and quickly handed his slimy, squirmy body to me.

First Impressions

When I first saw Jackson his body was a purple/blue color, he had a head full of dark hair and his lips were swollen making him look very African. My first thought: How did that get in there!

Which is funny because a few months ago when I asked Hazel who she thought Jackson would look like her answer was, "Ummmm...AFRICA!"


This picture doesn't do justice to the color he was at the time but you can see how swollen his lips are.

The swelling in his lips went down right away and his coloring, though very red-ish, is very much like his dad's. Meaning Hot Hubby. My husband. Just to be clear!

The other thing I noticed right away was a tooth! He was crying instantly and as Nathan handed Jackson to me I could see a tooth just under the surface of his lower gum.


The tooth!

Post Delivery

Usually after a baby is delivered the mommy's pain lessens right away. This didn't happen when Jackson was born. My pain gradually got worse and worse. Even though the midwife told me I didn't need stitches it didn't feel that way to me. In fact I kept jokingly asking if maybe there was another baby in there because I was having all the "feelings" I had before I delivered Jackson: intense pressure, ring-of-fire burning & contractions.

After about an hour (ish) I told the nurse that I thought I was bleeding too much. When she checked me she and the midwife found that my uterus had stopped contracting and had filled up with LOTS of blood and blood clots.

The next half hour or so was intense and painful. After giving me a shot to curb the pain and using a catheter to drain my bladder, the midwife had to "knead" my tummy to get my uterus to drain and contract down to the size it should have been. I was put on super high levels of pitocin and given more pain killers. When the process was over they measured that I had lost 1&1/2 pounds of blood.

Though there are many details I can't remember or have a hard time putting into words the main thing about this part of Jackson's birth is this: he is here and I am fine. I didn't require surgery or a transfusion. I was put on two weeks of "doing nothing" rest. Not quite bed rest but I basically have just sat and held Jackson the whole time. Which I really wanted to be able to do for at least one week anyways.

Hot Hubby has had the last two weeks off and has this week off also which has been perfect. He has, once again, been my Knight and has taken care of everything! Jackson and I slept in every morning while Hot Hubby got up at the crack of dawn with the girls and Abiah, made breakfast for us all and got the day started with the kids. I have a few words to say on this subject but will save it for another post. Point is this: Hot Hubby is amazing! And HOT!

Jackson Post Delivery

Jackson's bilirubin count was high and we had to stay an extra night so he could stay under the blue lights. He handled the whole thing much better than I thought. Though at first I was upset that we had to stay longer I took the opportunity to take a few extra naps and take few baths in the jetted tub. Good call, if I do say so myself!


First pair of "shades".



Baby tanning bed!

The Party

Right before Jackson was born someone from my room heard one of the nurses comment that we had, "men, women and children in there!" And we did! It was great!

Hot Hubby and my Mom

Nathan was the only man in the room during the actual delivery but my dad was in the room when we first got there and then after the delivery he and my FIL came in to meet their new grandson.

My Dad, Mom and MIL

FIL, Hot Hubby and Jackson

During the labor and delivery we had 12 people in the room. NOT counting the nurses! This was the first of my kids' deliveries that my mom and sisters (3) and Hot Hubby's mom and sisters (2) were all able to be at.

Rachel, Nicole (SIL) and my MIL

RoxAnne and Hannah

We were also joined by my niece Naomi, my Aunt RoxAnne and cousins, Rachel and Hannah. My friend Erika made it at the last minute also. If the room was bigger I would have had more ladies join us.

I don't have pictures of everyone on my camera, but they were there. I promise. Also, because of the hemorrhaging drama not everyone got to hold him that night and we didn't get pictures of all who did.

Something about a tree falling and no one hearing it comes to mind here...


The Coping Mechanism

Since worship music helps me relax and focus in any situation, I created a list for my ipod of about 50 songs that I really like. I purposely chose songs that are calm with lyrics that are focused on the goodness of God and who He is. I don't mind listening to instrumental music occasionally, but most of the time I prefer songs I can sing to.

I also purchased a 3x5 card book and wrote out scriptures that speak of the Lord's strength and goodness, a few snippets from a devotional and a list of people to pray for. This idea came from a birth story I read here. The people I purposed to pray for are those whose situations in life are harder and last longer than childbirth. Some have chronic illnesses. Some don't have answers to their pain. Some want children and haven't been able to have them. Some have sick babies. Some have recently lost loved ones. I LOVED this idea when I read about it and it really did help me through my delivery.

Aside from the last hour and a half (or so) when the pain was the worst, these things really did help to keep me focused. In fact, the times when I was using these the most were some of the sweetest times of the delivery for me.

Other sweet times for me:

Nathan being my constant support and our Court Jester
The comradeship of the women in the room
My niece want to be involved and finding things to do like giving me sips of water
Laughing with the nurses and midwife
The surprise of a friend
Remembering loved ones who I wish could have been there
Hearing the click-clicking of the keyboard and looking over to see my sister posed, waiting to update my friends on Facebook.

There are many more I can't think of now. Overall Jackson's delivery was an amazing, joy filled time.

We are enjoying the sweet little bundle that he is and looking forward to knowing him better.

The Story of We, Part 6 or 4 and Counting?

Look here for Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part4 and Part 5.

After my Schmooshy Amelia was born I wasn't sure I would be having anymore kids. I love giving birth (I'm weird. I know.), but I don't want to be a mom who goes crazy because she has too many kids. A wise woman once told me that "just because we can do something, doesn't mean we should."

I know that every life that God gives us to parent is and will be a blessing. I just feel like there is a point where the things that I want for my kids and that I want to be for my kids will be taken over by fatigue and the business of staying alive and keeping everyone else alive. Nathan and I desire to have personal and intentional relationships with our kids. And some can do that and have 12 or more kids. I don't know that I'm one of those. I don't know what that number is for us. We have just decided to take it one kid at a time. Unless we end up having twins or something. -Insert nervous laughter here-

When Amelia turned 6 months and I wasn't pregnant, I was happy. When she was 15 months and I wasn't preparing for the upcoming arrival of another one I was elated. Up to this point watching movies, tv shows or hearing about others being pregnant had little effect on me. I was happy. For them. But I still wasn't ready.

Then Rachel from Grasping for Objectivity announced she was pregnant and I felt a twinge of jealousy. Within a few months I knew of at least 6 other women who are expecting. And everywhere I went there were pregnant women! When I would see a pregnant woman in a store I had to hold back tears. When I would see a baby it was worse. I waited about a month to tell Nathan to make sure I wasn't just being hormonal.

He would have loved it if we would have gotten pregnant within a year after having Amelia. He's crazy. But he's also patient and he was sensitive to wait until I was ready to take that step.

When I found out mid-August that I was pregnant I called our family and close friends the same day. When I called my best friend in Utah and she asked me when I found out, I shocked her with the reply, "About 30 minutes!" I had to tell everyone. Right away!

I was happy. No. I was excited! And knowing that I was excited made me even more happy and more excited. It was such a welcoming change from the previous time of being scared and unsure. Of course, I still have moments of those feelings, too. But not very often.

Many people have asked us how many more we plan to have. Most assume we are "shooting for a boy this time to even things out." But we don't have a number. And my "even" is very different from most people's.

The Story of We, Part 5

If you need to catch up, here's: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Part Four ended with a six month old Hazel, an almost five year old Abiah, and a newly pregnant me.

This may sound silly, but I was surprised. Somehow I had convinced myself that I would have another six months, at least, until I was pregnant again. By the time this baby was born Hazel would be 15 months and Abiah would be 5 and 1/2 years old. That's a big gap between Abiah and Hazel and a really small gap between Hazel and our third child.

My over worked mind was going a million miles a minute trying to keep up with the flood of emotions, hormones, doubts, questions, and fears. Thankfully my progesterone levels were fine. I didn't worry so much about the baby surviving as much as I worried about my abilities to manage a newborn, a 15 month old, and a 5 year old.

It took me a while to be excited about being pregnant. To be quite honest, it wasn't until I watched a movie I would never recommend, Knocked Up, that I got excited about having another baby. I'm rather ashamed to admit it, too. I'm not sure what is was exactly, but some how it was what I needed.

This pregnancy went smoothly also. There was one big difference. I didn't feel like I knew this baby like I knew Hazel. Not in the beginning. I was waiting for the 20 week ultrasound when we would find out whether we were having a girl or a boy. I thought that once I knew the sex I would start to know the baby.

Well, this baby didn't want to be known. At least, we weren't going to find out if we were having a boy or a girl!

Once again I was disappointed. I needed to know this baby. After feeling such a strong connection with Hazel it felt like I was short-changing this baby.

Gradually feelings of understanding grew stronger. Especially when I went 10 days over my due date. Hazel was two weeks early, which is exactly her personality. She jumps the gun. I have NO idea where she gets it from. (Insert nervous laughter hear.)

This baby was on it's own time table (cough, just like her dad, cough). While I don't think those legs stopped moving from about 9:30 at night until midnight, this one was a slow mover. I knew that if I was induced, the baby would just fight back. I could feel that. And it made me happy. Happy enough to wait.

On Saturday, January 24th, 2009, we went out to breakfast at a local cafe with my parents. On one of my many trips to the bathroom I thought something was different. It's hard to explain without giving the "ladies only" details, but something was different. At 10 pm I started having regular contractions. At 2 when Nathan came up to bed I told him to go call my mom 'cause we were going in!

Some friends came to stayed with Abiah and Hazel. Nathan packed the car up. I made phone calls to the many people on our list. We left the house to make the 30 minute drive to the hospital. On the way we were stopped at two car wrecks, re-routed once, and it started snowing.

When I got to the hospital I couldn't go for longer than a minute or so without having a contraction. It took me a couple of minutes to get from the front door to the nurses station. I knew when I got there that I was close to or in transition. We started with a new midwife but by the time the baby was born we had the same midwife who delivered Hazel. It was a treat. I really like her and felt like she knew me enough to know what I needed. I trusted her. Not so much with the nurse, though.

I found out the hard way that some nurses aren't used to non-medicated births. She was insensitive and pushy. She was constantly taking my blood pressure and asking stupid questions during contractions and it got on my nerves quickly. I felt like she thought I was over reacting about the pain and didn't really know how far along I was. At one point when she left the room I looked up at my family and friends and said, "I just want to slap her!" They all laughed and later let me know they all felt the same way, too. I was more than thankful when her shift ended.

So much happened from when we arrived between 3/3:30 and 9:30 when our 9lb 7oz baby girl was born. She was sooooo big! And very smooshed. Unlike Hazel's bullet entry (she came out all in one push), Amelia took quite a while to come out.

Once again I was mesmerized by this little life I held in my arms. She was such a chunk you just wanted to nibble on her cheeks. She had saggy jowls.

We named her Amelia, which means Beloved, after a family friend who patiently watched me and my siblings when I was younger. And we gave her the middle name, Ruth, which means Friendship, after one of my mom's faithful friends. I knew that if we had two girls I wanted them to be close friends.

What I didn't realize is that I would also have a Beloved Friendship with Amelia. And I do. I took some months for me to finally feel like I knew her the way I always imagined I would. But now she is so dear to me that I just might keep her forever.

As in, she will never be able to leave home. At least not without me.

I don't love Amelia more or less than Abiah and Hazel. She just needs me differently. And I need her too. I need her to wrap her chubby arms around my legs while I'm cooking. I need her to sit in my lap bringing book after book for me to read. I need her sweet songs and laughing blue eyes. I need her in the way I always wanted to.

After she was born I wasn't sure I would want more kids. I needed us to wait until I knew...

The Story of We, Part 4

To catch up check out part one, two, and three.

Before I had kids I wanted to have home births. Then we found out that our insurance covers so much of our hospital bill that it seems unwise and REALLY expensive to stay at home. (I would still love to do that at least once though.) So, when Nathan and I were preparing for Hazel, I let him know I probably wouldn't want to be at the hospital very long after she was born.

Boy, was I wrong!

You just have no idea what having a baby does to you before you've had one. To put it lightly, I was in pain. Plus they have that nifty little nurse button that I just can't seem to get Nathan to install in our house.

We also had this new little person that I suddenly felt nervous about caring for. She was so vulnerable and tiny. So completely dependent on me. When I was at the hospital I just pushed a button and they answered my questions. I knew if I called my pediatrician that much he'd fire me!

Like I said in Part 3, after she was born I felt like I had arrived. And then I went home. We were probably home less than 2 hours when I left Hazel with Nathan and my parents (who were now home from Florida) and went to my room to nap and immediately burst into tears crying. Hazel woke up shortly after that and when Nathan brought her to me he found me curled up with a tear stained face.

How was I to nurture this helpless baby and the growing boy we were adopting? They both needed me so much, and in completely different ways. What if I failed them? What if I didn't measure up? Could I really do this?

I'm sure most mom's have feelings similar to these. I've been told they do.

There was no other option but to do what needed to be done. There was a joy missing in my heart, though. I didn't realize for a long time that I was struggling with depression. I know some of it was postpartum, but I've realized just in the last year that most of it was emotions coming out that I had never dealt with. Disappointments I had never faced. Failures I'd never worked through. Having these little lives, these blank slates, brought out the imperfections in me more than anything else has.

I struggled with knowing whether or not being a full-time mom was really what I wanted. I mourned opportunities I'd missed out on when I was single and before we had kids. I had always made pretty good decisions, but they were safe decisions. Not adventurous or risky. I would replay decisions made and conversations had that I wished I could change. My life seemed dull and monotonous.

This struggle was very internal for me. I didn't have the words to explain. I didn't even understand enough so that I could try to explain.

When Hazel was about five months and Abiah was almost 5, Nathan and I started talking about when we would want more kids. We wanted our kids to be close in age, but had always talked about waiting for at least one year before trying again. I told Nathan that I didn't think I would mind if I got pregnant soon or if we waited until she was older than one. I was nursing and had just had a baby so our chances of getting pregnant were slimmer. We thought. So we decided to just let it happen. If it did or if it didn't, we would be happy.

The next month there were two pink lines on the little stick.

The Story of We, Part 3

If you need to, you can catch up by reading the first and second parts.

After my second miscarriage some friends suggested that I might have my hormone levels checked. A close friend had gone through something similar to me, but had a successful pregnancy right after her miscarriage because she didn't wait for her hormone levels to drop back down.

A little hormone schooling for ya: the hormone progesterone is needed in the first trimester to keep the pregnancy. When progesterone levels start to drop off it's a sign to your body that it's time for a period. When pregnant, after the first trimester the placenta takes over the progesterone production. For more details you can read this article.

Anyways, back to the story.

We decided after the second miscarriage that we weren't going to wait the recommended three months before trying to get pregnant again. I was suspicious of my progesterone levels being low due to signs like hair loss and cystic acne. Sure enough, after one month we saw two pink lines on the stick.

I just have to say, after taking so many pregnancy test, there is no better place to purchase them than at the dollar store. I don't think all dollar stores carry them but it's worth checking out. Spending $1 per stick vs. $5-9 per stick is a big difference. Check it out if you're in the market.

Anyways, once again, back to the story!

This time I had NO spotting. I made an appointment with a naturopath and by eight weeks found that my progesterone levels were indeed low. I was put on a progesterone pill for the first trimester and had zero complications with my pregnancy.

From the beginning I knew my baby. Whether boy or girl, I knew exactly who was in me. When we found out we were having a girl I felt that "knowing" deepen. I wanted to name her Hazel, which means "commanding authority."

I think Nathan was scared because it is such a strong meaning. But I felt that's exactly what she was. A strong girl. My mom said, "Hazel is an old lady's name." I was like, "Mom, you named me Helen after an 80 year old lady you knew!" She changed her mind.

When we asked Abiah what we should name her he suggested Cowboy Chinnah. I, of course, starting calling her that in hopes that Nathan would settle on a name. Which he did. And I won. But there was something missing. We couldn't find a middle name that suited her.

When I was 38 weeks along my mom and dad left for a week trip to Florida with the belief that since this was my first delivery I would be late. On Wednesday night of that week I didn't feel good so I laid in bed listening to worship music trying to relax and fall asleep. That's when her whole name came to me.

I was listening to Chris Tomlin's version of Amazing Grace over and over. While letting my heart relax in the freedom of the words, I saw it. Or knew it. Or...something. Anyways, a commanding authority isn't a bad thing. As long as there is grace! And, as the Queen I wanted to raise this princess to be someone who commands authority with grace.

At 6:30 the next morning I was wakened by the sensation of my water breaking.

Nathan was a wreck. He wasn't ready. The car seat wasn't in the car yet. Our bags were packed but the house was a mess. I had planned to get up and clean it. Oh well! Babies come when they will. And this one came two weeks early! Thankfully I had registered with the hospital the day before. Before I could call there I had to get a hold of my mom.

Since she was in a conference I knew it would be difficult. After trying her cell and my dad's cell I crossed social boundaries I was uncomfortable with and called a friend, Pam, who was with them. Interrupting my mom is one thing. Interrupting friends seems so much different.

Pam was gracious, of course, and I heard the disappointment in my mom's voice when she found out who it was before she was even to the phone. She guessed why I was calling. She had never missed a grandbaby's birth. This time it was inevitable.

Since she was going to co-support with Nathan and wasn't able to now, I called my older sister, Summer, and she stepped into the position naturally. After taking Abiah for us and leaving him and her four kids with a sitter, she met us at the hospital. Being a pro birther herself (see the reference to her four kids, which she had all without drugs) she was a great second option.

Actually, after watching her have her first daughter I told her she could just carry and deliver all my babies for me. She was good with that, too. Her husband? Not so much.

My labor was pretty normal. Hazel was posterior. And that HURT!

Nathan was amazing. My midwife and nurse were amazing. Summer was too. Even though she made fun of me and laughed at me a few times. She was the perfect person for me to have there. She is my birthing hero and offered me the perfect amount of support.

Nathan was amazed when, after him, the midwife, and the nurse suggesting or asking me to do something, Summer would tell me to do it and I would without hesitation. I don't know what it was except maybe I trusted her because I had seen her do this four times already. Plus she's my older sister and I'm used to her bossing me around!

As hard as it was to not have my mom with me I think it was good for me. I found that I had it in me to go through that without her. My mom and I have a good relationship and it is easy for me to depend on her more than I need too. I think I would have felt more like hiding behind her skirt than pushing myself to be strong and work through the most intense pain in my life.

Around 11:20 that cold October (2007) night, Hazel was born. She was the most perfect 7lb 9oz baby I've ever seen. She had a perfectly round head and gorgeous skin. I held her for over an hour before handing her over to be cleaned and checked. She was so small. My perfect baby. My dream. One answer to many tearful prayers.

I felt like I had arrived. I was suddenly the woman I had known was in there somewhere. And then I went home...

The Story of We, Part 2

This is the second part of our story. You can read the first part here.

Thanksgiving Day of the same year, 2006, there were once again two pink lines on the stick, but I was spotting again. Once again we shared our news with friend and family and asked them to pray. I was nauseous, which is a good sign. So we held onto hope.

December 15th, my SIL and I got together to make pepper jelly for Christmas presents and Nathan's birthday party. I LOVE pepper jelly. But it is one stinky recipe to make. And it didn't effect me. I tried to push the thought out of my mind. At 4:30 the next morning I miscarried again. When I got back in bed Nathan and I held each other and cried. There were no words.

We spent the following Monday seeing doctor after doctor. Waiting and waiting. Blood tests and ultra sounds. Exams and consultations. In the last office we visited we sat in the waiting room tortured by the exclamations of the joyful parents-to-be around us. They were holding sonogram pictures in their hands and healthy babies in their wombs. I was empty.

That night my parents blessed us with a gift certificate to a nice waterfront restaurant for a much needed night out. We looked forward to eating a quiet meal while watching the festival of boats go up and down the river. We arrived at the restaurant at the same time as another couple...who were pregnant. We were seated up stairs next to the windows. We had a great view. We were almost the only ones there. Except for the pregnant couple. At the table behind us.

The evening was spent listening to their excited conversation about finding out they were having a girl. I don't remember much about the evening. I know I stared out the window a lot. I have no memories of the food we ate. But I remember that couple. While I wanted to be excited for them and congratulate them, I also desperately wanted to just walk out.

We didn't. We ate our dinner. We comforted each other with knowing glances. We knew that once again we would be given the grace to get through this disappointment. And we were.

But our journey wasn't over...

The Story of We, Part 1

When Hot Hubby and I got married we knew we wanted to wait a year before having kids. He was 25. I was 24. We wanted kids but we felt a year would give us time to adjust to the newness of marriage and yet we wouldn't be risking the "your parents look like they could be your grandparents" issue. This is that story.

After our first anniversary road trip to San Fransisco, (Just a tip: When you suggest that you and your reclusive husband drive to the second most densely populated city in the United States and he says he's gonna hate it...believe him! Then plan a trip with a girlfriend who would love to roam the crowded and confusing streets of San Fransisco on a trolley filled with potential disease infested people instead of hiding out in your tiny hotel room. Someone who would enjoy the thrill of driving over the Golden Gate bridge for the first time and wouldn't be consumed with cursing the traffic. Just a tip.) Where was I? Oh yeah.

So, after our trip I expected that it wouldn't take long before I was seeing double pink lines telling me the great news. And though it only took a few months, those months were so frustrating. I'm impatient. What can I say.

I think that it was the end of May when we found out we were expecting. I was excited but confused. I was spotting and was scared about what that meant. We hesitated to tell people but decided to so that they could be praying for us.

The day before Father's Day I miscarried. If I wasn't so emotional and upset I think I would have responded different to the many insensitive comments and unhelpful people I encountered that day. The on-call doctor I called for advice got frustrated and told me he wasn't and obstetrician so he couldn't help me. The on-call ultrasound technician told me that most times when a woman miscarries it's because there are some major genes missing and "we have too many weirdos walking around anyways."

I think we were in so much emotional shock and were a little surprised at the nonchalant attitude of the ER doctors that we figured they all would see it the same way. A few days later when the shock started to wear off we did complain about the on-call doctor but we didn't have a name for the ultra sound technician.

We were told we should wait for three months before trying to get pregnant again. And so we did. But in the mean-time...

Abiah came to live with us with the intent that we adopt him. Abiah is the biological son of one of my sisters. His story is a long, sensitive one. What I can say is that Nathan and I both new for a long time that we wanted to give him the family he so desperately needed. While the details are hard to understand and explain we knew it was the best thing for him. He moved in with us on July 31st 2006.

We literally became parents overnight. To a three year old. The transition was...interesting. He is a wonderful boy. The challenge is knowing how to tell the difference between disobedience and him responding out of his hurt heart. I think we felt prepared to parent him but unprepared in guiding his broken heart. We want him to grow up with a respect for his biological mom and a complete trust in our love for him.

As we adjusted to parenting a three year old I sought to find a way to deal with my emotions of loosing a baby. Well meaning people wondered why I hadn't gotten "over it" yet. I found myself confused. I was sad. I wanted that baby. I had dreamed of that baby since childhood. How could I just get over loosing it.

Through the tears and confusion in my heart I felt the Lord tell me that I didn't and wouldn't get over it. But I would get through it. It was like water to my dry and cracked soul. I had hope.