Thin vs. Thick

I was starting to feel a little self-conscious about the remaining weight left over from my recent pregnancy.  That was until this afternoon.  When discussing the meaning of the word "thin" my son said "oh, you mean like Norner (his name for my brother)?  He's thin."  My brother is very skinny.  

Then he said, "So Mommy you're halfway thin."

Better than being thick, I guess.  I love that little man.

Biblical Worldview in Action

Another recent blog post by me from our school's site:

Today our family of five was outside enjoying the 80 degree, early spring weather. What a gorgeous reminder of God’s love and provision! My husband was moving a pile of red dirt to cover some exposed tree roots. Our kindergartener asked him what he was doing with the dirt. He replied, “I’m using it to cover the roots.” Our son, biblical worldview properly forming, stated, “oh, yeah, you mean like David covered up his sin. Got it.”

We both chuckled. What a testament to how he really is intermingling his knowledge about God and His Word into his daily life and thoughts.

Our school. . .

The school that we helped to start has a new blog.  We are trying to "personalize" our journey and offer insight into what we are trying to accomplish.  It's a less intrusive way for folks to check us out and really see what's going on.  Here is a post I recently contributed about our son, who is in kindergarten at the school.

Here are a few recent conversations between me and my kindergartener:

1) While making his bed. . . “so, Mom, who are some other great artists like Leonardo Da Vinci?” They have been learning about Da Vinci in art class for the past month and obviously it’s accomplished one goal of sparking interest in the masters.

2) Me: “Just because your sister hit you does not mean that you can hit her back.”
Him: “Yes it does, mom. The Bible says so.”
Me: “Where does the Bible say it’s okay to hit your sister??”
Him: “It says ‘Do unto others as they do unto you.’”
I had to chuckle a bit before I explained the meaning of this verse. Obviously his ability to memorize might exceed his ability to fully understand at this age. However, when the understanding catches up with the memory he will be so well-equipped!!!

3) Sometimes we let the children watch their favorite show together which airs at 6:30, just before bedtime. The show is divided into 3 stories. One night recently, I told them they could only watch for ten minutes or so because they were both so exhausted and needed to get in bed. I could see his wheels start turning.
Him: “So how long is ten minutes?”
Me: “Honey you will watch about half of the show.” I know that the show is actually only about 22 minutes long.
Him: “So is that one story or two?”
Me: “You can watch just the first story, so one.”
Him: “Then that is not half, hmmm, that is one out of three.”
Me: (smiling) “Yes, son, you are correct.”

I was a math major. I was and still am obsessed with numbers. I, too, would have sat there and figured out the ratio of the show I was going to watch. Oh, the butterflies I got when I heard him say this. They are the same butterflies I get when he talks about a pattern, or subtracts to figure out the number of days left in the month, or talks about how amazing it is that 3+4 is the same as 4+3: 7!

 

More wonderful to me than all of these very academic breakthroughs is that he knows the Lord is at the center of it all. It’s because of God’s hand that the artists’ hands can paint His creation. The word of God etched on their little hearts will serve them over and over again as they grow and mature.  Only a God of order could create such beauty as the beauty of numbers and the predictability of math. I am thankful that as the knowledge he gains takes him in all different directions, his heart is firmly planted in allegiance and wonder of His glorious Creator.

Birth Story - Baby #3

I have been meaning to record the details of the birth of our third child on January 4th, 2009. The day began as many had over the previous three weeks -- with a nice pattern of noticeable contractions.  I woke up and didn't really feel like getting ready and going to church after being awake with the pains.  My husband encouraged me to go; he said it would take my mind off of things.  

We went to church.  During Sunday school I was casually looking at my watch when I would have a contraction and noticed that they were pretty consistently five minutes apart.  They still were not killing me, but they were definitely different than the contractions I had been having over the previous weeks.  

During the sermon something changed.  The pains were still only 4-5 minutes apart, but they were much stronger.  I even had to get up and walk to the restroom just to see if that would help.  After three weeks of wondering if "this is it" I knew that walking or changing position would not stop true labor contractions.  Thankfully, my trip to the bathroom did nothing to disrupt the rhythm and intensity of the pains.  I was starting to believe that it was time.

We immediately went home and fed the older two children lunch.  I was not hungry, just jittery. Thankfully my sister was in town -- she lives in California -- and I called her to let her know that we were probably going to the hospital at some point during the day.  I was trying to remain patient and wait for the pains to become unbearable before going.  I definitely did not want to get there and have the nurses give me their skeptical speech about me not being in labor. I was the pregnant overachiever -- I wanted an A+ in pain when I arrived at the hospital this time.  

My mom wasn't feeling well but agreed to come down to help with caring for the older two. She, my sister and brother-in-law all arrived at around 3:30pm or so. By that point I was convinced that we needed to start thinking about going soon.  The hospital is a good 30-minute drive away and I didn't trust myself to know when I would be in danger of delivering on the side of the road.

Interjection here. . . my first delivery was initiated by my water breaking so I had to go to the hospital immediately.  My second child was essentially induced after I was admitted to the hospital and my contractions stopped.  I have never progressed past early labor without medical intervention in the form of pitocin.  I didn't know what "real" contractions felt like, because as soon as I was put on pitocin I was also given an epidural.

I had decided that this time I wanted to feel labor.  I really don't know where the crazy idea came from, but I was determined to labor without pain medication.  I think there was a certain amount of desire for bragging rights, there was a genuine curiosity, and there was a bit of a challenge to myself to see if I could endure.  I also wanted to feel what God had designed in a woman's body that allowed the miracle of childbirth.  

When we finally got to the hospital around 5pm I was still having regular, strong contractions, but I could definitely still talk through the pain.  The nurse who began working me up seemed skeptical.  Being the overachiever that I was, I assured her that this had to be the real thing.  I begged her to let me walk around.  I told her that my dr. assured me that if I made it to the hospital in a nice pattern, that she would definitely "help" me along if need be.  I was stating my case that I was not leaving without a baby (I had been to the hospital once before only to be sent home).

She checked me and called me a 3.5 cm and 90% effaced.  After monitoring me and the baby for 30 minutes she called my dr. who instructed her to let me walk around.  Jonathan and I began walking at around 6pm or so. . . and that really began to speed things along.  The nurse said that my dr. was going to come to the hospital after finishing dinner to check me herself (love my dr.).  Again, the overachiever in me was determined to be nicely progressed by the time she arrived.  

The contractions were definitely getting stronger to where I was having to stop and lean on the wall during the height of the peak.  I could still talk through them.  After about an hour of walking, the nurse checked me and said I was a good 4-4.5cm and 100% effaced -- progress!  If this was a test I was getting an A for sure :).  

By the time my dr. arrived at around 8pm and my water was broken, the pain was beginning to turn a corner.  I was stuck in the bed being monitored and as soon as I could I wanted to walk again.  This time, I had to lean on my husband and even bite his shirt at the peak of the pain. . . I was moaning.  There was a Christmas tree at the end of the hallway, and I liked to go there for the peak.  I could hide behind the tree and have a little privacy for my pain.  There was also an alcove at the other end of the hallway.  We would walk between these two points, making sure to arrive at one or the other before the pain hit.  I have no idea how far apart the contractions were then.  I just know that I was starting to get very, very uncomfortable.  

Because my moaning was getting louder and more frequent, the nurse asked to check me.  She wanted to update my dr. who had gone next door to her office to catch up on paperwork.  She checked me and I was at 6cm.  I was starting to lose control during the pain at this point.  The nurse kept telling me to relax and be her "wet noodle."  I felt like I really could not relax anymore or control myself during the contractions.  I asked her what it would take to get an epidural.  She let me know that she'd have to start an IV, etc and that it might be too late by the time she did all of that.  She suggested trying the jacuzzi tub to help me relax.

Jacuzzi tub + transition contractions = BAD COMBO.  As soon as I got in the tub transition hit. I know it was transition because I started screaming at this point and the pains were one right on top of the other.  In the moment I was blaming the tub for the heightened intensity, and I had only been in there a couple of minutes when I told Jonathan to get me out of there NOW. He let them know that the jacuzzi wasn't working and that I wanted the epidural. 

When I got out she began starting an IV when the other nurse suggested checking my cervix again first.  This was a total of 5 minutes or so after the last check.  She checked me and I was 9cm!  Eek.  Luckily, they had already called my dr. when I started screaming.  She was there within a few minutes, putting on her suit.  This was at around 10:20pm.

This is when it gets really funny.  I was completely out of control.  My soft-spoken dr. kept reassuring me that it was going to be over soon, I kept saying that I couldn't do it anymore.  I was screaming, grabbing my husband, cursing (gasp!), begging for help. . . completely humiliating behavior.  They kept telling me to push, and I kept saying that I couldn't.  The pain was too much to push through.  I had always read that pushing would be a relief, but I disagree. I couldn't focus my energy because I was so focused on the intensity of the pain.

Finally, one nurse pulled up some handles for me to grab onto, and once I grabbed those the baby was out in a flash.  I think I may have pushed for 10 minutes.  The famous "ring of fire" was NOTHING compared to those late contractions.  They were like a chainsaw cutting me in two from side-to-side.  

There is no really good way to describe the relief when the baby comes out.  Well, actually, the really amazing relief is when the afterbirth is delivered.  It's like you can breathe again!  

I don't know if I would go through childbirth naturally again.  The recovery wasn't that much better for me this time, and the humiliation was pretty bad.  In the end no matter what, you get a beautiful sweet baby to bring home.  That's what is really important.

One reason why we are not in public school. . .

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,506773,00.html

Alexis de Tocqueville

Here is a link to a Weekly Standard  published excerpt from Democracy in America.  It was in this week's issue, and, yes, we subscribe to this magazine.  LOVE IT.  Anyway, my husband has read the book from cover-to-cover; I tried and couldn't make it through.  Even this short excerpt required more concentration than I have to give right now, however it was eerie to read in some ways.

Sharing my opinion about touchy subjects has always been a strange thing for me.  When I was in high school I was way too outspoken, to the err of obnoxiousness.  I went through a period after college where I was pretty much indifferent to any given cause so I didn't really have anything to say.  Now I'm definitely more opinionated and learning to share my thoughts effectively and graciously (except, maybe, for my post about Anne Hathaway -- when it comes to celebrities I have a hard time being gracious for some reason).  

I am unhappy about the direction we are headed under this leadership.  I do not wish to be in competition for medical treatment under a government-run health care system.  I do not believe the government manages anything very well, and therefore should be left to govern the people, who can more effectively manage when unyoked.  I want to serve the poor of our country through my church, giving them hope instead of a handout.  I want them enabled and inspired to take advantage of their freedom instead of see them choose bondage in order to be fed.  I hate to see people lose their jobs, but people are resilient.  A free market economy which is stifled is not able to flourish.

I am not a crazy, Obama-hating, closed-minded person.  I am a mom who drives a minivan who simply believes in the ideals this country was founded on.   In a few short weeks I see those ideals being thrown under the bus -- all in the name of "change we can believe in."  Ugh, those words turn my stomach.  I just pray each day that eyes are opened to the importance of freedom.  

 I am thankful that my God is bigger than any government ever could be.  Thankfully, I am in His service and have nothing to fear.  It was a good day when I realized that being a Christian comes before being patriotic.