For the past few weeks, my Monday night Bible study girls have been studying Beth Moore's Mercy Triumphs study on the book of James. If you have never delved into that book of the Bible, hold onto your hearts because it has been one of the most convicting yet strangely hopeful books I've read and studied. I could write many posts on it, but instead I would encourage you to dig in and study it for yourself.
Anyway, last night Beth Moore talked about how we, as Christians, need to mindful that we are not "of" the world (something I've heard time and time again). But, she was also talking about being mindful of where we get our "high" in life...is it in clothes, food, etc? She then said a phrase that will stay with me for quite some time. "There is no high like the Most High." Hmm...thought provoking. She also discussed how we, as Christians, can not become cynical
After Bible study was over, my shopping buddy and I stayed late and chatted with some of the other girls. We then left to grab a few needed items at Walmart. But my buddy passed by Walmart and headed to Dillon's. I just thought that maybe she forgot she needed something at the grocery store before they closed at 11pm. (at this time, it was 10:50pm). We got out of our cars and she said she thought we should either get a little tub of ice cream or a piece of cheesecake. How could I say "no"? We headed straight to the cheesecake and grabbed the package that had 2 pieces. Then we checked out the ice cream aisle to see what they had (and compared calories between the desserts.) After keeping our initial choice of cheesecake, we went to the register. There was a man with two elementary school kids checking out (we would later find out he was their grandpa.) I had my back to them, talking to my friend. Suddenly, my friend was going up to the register to check out the man's total. I hadn't noticed, but she had. The man didn't have enough money to cover his grocery bill so he was putting things back. He paid the cashier and was gathering everything up to leave. The cashier scanned our cheesecake and then my friend felt God prompting her to get outside of her comfort zone and reach out to this grandpa.
She ever so kindly asked if she could pay for the items he had to discard. He looked bewildered and asked, "Why would you want to do that?" She replied because God wants her to. He then said, "Ok." There were 3 Dillon's employees present and they looked as stunned as the grandpa. The cashier rang up the additional items and she paid for them. The grandpa said how much he appreciated her doing that and then left with his grandkids. We walked away with our cheesecake and the manager was locking the front door when we walked past and she thanked my friend for doing that.
We went to my car and ate our yummy cheesecake and discussed what had just happened. Did it matter that the food he discarded wasn't the most nutritious food? No. Who were we to judge what he was buying; when God prompts you to obey, who are we to rationalize why we shouldn't obey? The week before at Bible study, Beth Moore talked about an experience at the gas station where there was a dad with his kiddos who had to push their car up to the pump because they were completely out. Beth felt God nudging her so she asked him if she could pay for his gas and was able to show God's love to them through that situation. But what if we can't afford to financially help someone out? She suggested that we at least acknowledge their situation; tell them that we would love to help them out if we could. Do not ignore their circumstances.
I have been wrestling with how God wants to use me in my current stage of life. Being a stay at home mom has quite a bit of flexibility. How can I be used to minister to those outside of my family and friends? We are called to be God's hands and feet. We don't have to be thousands of miles away to serve. It doesn't have to be anything elaborate, either. It could be paying for the $0.59 soda belonging to the person behind you at QT. Shoveling your elderly neighbors sidewalk after it snows, etc. I want to show my kiddos how we, no matter how big or small we are, can serve God.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
New Decade, New Me
As mentioned before, my 20-something status is ending very soon. In less than a year, I'll be embarking on my journey as a 30 year old. For awhile, I have felt that I wanted to project a new image as a woman in my 30's (whether I felt like I was truly that old or not!) I want to wear clothing that is a little more sophisticated, a little more classy. But, I wanted to be mindful, though, of obtaining this look on a budget. I've watched enough "What Not to Wear" episodes to know that I need to get some basic items in order to obtain my "look". These items need to be very versatile so that I can dress them up or down depending on the need. While I will still enjoy some days of "lounging" around in sweats, I want to be more put together on a daily basis.
Before I started shopping, I took inventory of what I already had and purged my closet of clothing that I no longer wear or doesn't go with my new look. I wanted to simplify my closet so that it wouldn't be difficult to pair items together. After doing that, I discovered that I had the basic pairs of jeans (minus a pair of skinny jeans...still trying to be brave enough to try a pair of those on!). Recently, I found a pair of trouser jeans at the Goodwill; it only took a few months of looking for a pair, but I'm so thankful to not spend a lot on them! Also, I have a few cardigans that will be great for layering. There were some shirts that would also be good under cardigans. But I was missing dresses, a jean skirt, shorts/capris and some shirts that could have multiple purposes. I also needed some updated shoe choices since my basic flip-flops aren't exactly the most fashionable footwear (oh, I will still wear them, but not as often!!!)
So for the past week and a half, I've been browsing the Internet for deals on what I need. If I didn't absolutely LOVE the item or if it wasn't versatile, I refused to purchase it. One store had a 25% off everything sale plus free shipping. I found needed items that were already on sale and then paired it with the 25% off, too. I'm was pumped =)
It's been a big mind-change, though, because I used to flock to the "Junior" section of a store. But I am now gravitating towards the "Women" section. Now, I will still shop the Junior section from time to time, but I don't want to project a "Junior" image anymore. I also noticed that I was attracted to more "womanly" stores i.e. Ann Taylor, Gap, etc. instead of Forever21 or Maurices (I did however find some basics at Maurices that were more womanly and for a good deal so I ordered them.)
Since I wasn't successful at finding a jean skirt that could be both causal or dressy at a reasonable price, I scoured eBay for one. I found a brand new Ann Taylor skirt that is right above the knees. It was under $10. Couldn't beat that, eh?
Saturday afternoon my shopping buddy and I went to the Goodwill and I found a few more basic items. I bought a pair of casual Bermuda shorts that will be great to go to the park in the summer; a pair of dark denim Bermuda shorts that can be worn with a wedge shoe or a simple sandal depending on the occasion. I also found a few more shirts. But I was super excited about a pair of Ann Taylor black wedge shoes. I've never worn wedge, but I was really attracted to these shoes (and the price!).
While a girl can't help but be excited about a new wardrobe, I'm also excited about how I am mentally trying to change my perception of the next decade. Yes, I still can't believe I'm not going to be in my 20's anymore, but I'm beginning to think about how this new era is a time to focus on what I do well and the things I want to change about myself. And that's exciting to me.
So watch out...I may not always be wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and a pony tail every time you see me. And that's a good thing!
Before I started shopping, I took inventory of what I already had and purged my closet of clothing that I no longer wear or doesn't go with my new look. I wanted to simplify my closet so that it wouldn't be difficult to pair items together. After doing that, I discovered that I had the basic pairs of jeans (minus a pair of skinny jeans...still trying to be brave enough to try a pair of those on!). Recently, I found a pair of trouser jeans at the Goodwill; it only took a few months of looking for a pair, but I'm so thankful to not spend a lot on them! Also, I have a few cardigans that will be great for layering. There were some shirts that would also be good under cardigans. But I was missing dresses, a jean skirt, shorts/capris and some shirts that could have multiple purposes. I also needed some updated shoe choices since my basic flip-flops aren't exactly the most fashionable footwear (oh, I will still wear them, but not as often!!!)
So for the past week and a half, I've been browsing the Internet for deals on what I need. If I didn't absolutely LOVE the item or if it wasn't versatile, I refused to purchase it. One store had a 25% off everything sale plus free shipping. I found needed items that were already on sale and then paired it with the 25% off, too. I'm was pumped =)
It's been a big mind-change, though, because I used to flock to the "Junior" section of a store. But I am now gravitating towards the "Women" section. Now, I will still shop the Junior section from time to time, but I don't want to project a "Junior" image anymore. I also noticed that I was attracted to more "womanly" stores i.e. Ann Taylor, Gap, etc. instead of Forever21 or Maurices (I did however find some basics at Maurices that were more womanly and for a good deal so I ordered them.)
Since I wasn't successful at finding a jean skirt that could be both causal or dressy at a reasonable price, I scoured eBay for one. I found a brand new Ann Taylor skirt that is right above the knees. It was under $10. Couldn't beat that, eh?
Saturday afternoon my shopping buddy and I went to the Goodwill and I found a few more basic items. I bought a pair of casual Bermuda shorts that will be great to go to the park in the summer; a pair of dark denim Bermuda shorts that can be worn with a wedge shoe or a simple sandal depending on the occasion. I also found a few more shirts. But I was super excited about a pair of Ann Taylor black wedge shoes. I've never worn wedge, but I was really attracted to these shoes (and the price!).
While a girl can't help but be excited about a new wardrobe, I'm also excited about how I am mentally trying to change my perception of the next decade. Yes, I still can't believe I'm not going to be in my 20's anymore, but I'm beginning to think about how this new era is a time to focus on what I do well and the things I want to change about myself. And that's exciting to me.
So watch out...I may not always be wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and a pony tail every time you see me. And that's a good thing!
Friday, February 17, 2012
Late Night Research
While learning how to live more frugally, I have discovered home-made recipes for household items like laundry detergent, dishwasher soap, all-purpose cleaner to name a few. I had NO idea that people made their own! So last night my "shopping buddy" (if you don't have one, you should get one) ventured out in search of pricing how much it would cost to buy the needed materials so we could make a big batch together and split it in half along with the cost. That way if we didn't like how it worked we wouldn't be out as much money.
For those of you who know my "shopping buddy", you know that we rarely ever shop during normal hours. We shop late at night. And last night was no different. We meandered around Target until closing time (11pm), but scored some awesome sale/clearance items. We didn't find all the necessary items for our recipes so we stopped by Dillon's MarketPlace which is fortunately opened 24 hours for our shopping convenience. We found the rest of the needed items except for essential oils. The store had a big "organic" section so we really thought they would carry this, but after wandering around for quite some time, we weren't successful. So at midnight we decided it was probably time to call it a night.
I am going to find buckets and spray bottles to put our "creation" in and then I'll be ready to give this thing a whirl! Oh and by the way, there will be lots of coffee consumption today, but it's Friday so I can hang on for one more day to hopefully sleep in past 6-something-am!!!
For those of you who know my "shopping buddy", you know that we rarely ever shop during normal hours. We shop late at night. And last night was no different. We meandered around Target until closing time (11pm), but scored some awesome sale/clearance items. We didn't find all the necessary items for our recipes so we stopped by Dillon's MarketPlace which is fortunately opened 24 hours for our shopping convenience. We found the rest of the needed items except for essential oils. The store had a big "organic" section so we really thought they would carry this, but after wandering around for quite some time, we weren't successful. So at midnight we decided it was probably time to call it a night.
I am going to find buckets and spray bottles to put our "creation" in and then I'll be ready to give this thing a whirl! Oh and by the way, there will be lots of coffee consumption today, but it's Friday so I can hang on for one more day to hopefully sleep in past 6-something-am!!!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
New Play-Date Mates
A few months ago our family went through a transition. We started attending a different church that is in our town. Before, we were going to a church in the town where all of my friends live. The old church met our needs and we were enjoying the friendships we made there. God was stirring in us, though, to try out the church here. James knew a few of the guys who went and then a family dear to us started attending. In October, James and I decided that we would begin the process of trying it out. Almost immediately we knew that this was where our family was supposed to be. I was ok with it; I still had my Monday night Bible study girls along with my MOPS gals. Since the church is huge on discipleship of the guys, I felt that James may enjoy interacting with some local guys while growing in Christ.
Two weeks ago at church, a spunky lady probably a few years younger than me introduced herself to me and said she saw my hair the week before and told herself that she had to meet the girl with the great hair (I was kind of shell-shocked because I've never really been complimented on my hair by a stranger!) I was happy to meet her. Then this week she came up to me and invited me and the kiddos for a play-date with some fellow mommies. I was stoked. Since all of my friends live in a town 20 minutes from here, I've only had a few local play-dates at the McDonald's PlayPlace and the water park. It was a nice thought of just jotting across town to have some mommie/kiddo time. Now don't get me wrong, I will drive any distance for a play date so my friends in A-town do not despair, I will still drive to "play" ANYTIME!!! ;-)
Today was the day. I made some "no-bake" cookies last night and Isaiah, Samara and I piled into Bonnie at 11am and headed over for the play-date. It's such a small world because one of the mommies is related to our neighbor across the street from us. (sing with me now...it's a small world after all...) Anyway, it was a group of 3 other mommies and 7 precious kiddos. Isaiah was the oldest, but he handled himself very well. Samara dressed up as a princess so she was definitely in her element. I totally enjoyed getting to hear some of these gals' stories, where they are at with their faith, and their life as a mommy. We sipped on delicious coffee from our local coffee shop, had an amazing smörgåsbord for lunch, and then nibbled on the cookies as a snack. At 2:30pm, we made our way back home to let George out and then pick Malachi up from school. It was definitely a lovely Thursday.
Hopefully, I didn't scare them off and I'll get invited sometime for another play-date =)
Two weeks ago at church, a spunky lady probably a few years younger than me introduced herself to me and said she saw my hair the week before and told herself that she had to meet the girl with the great hair (I was kind of shell-shocked because I've never really been complimented on my hair by a stranger!) I was happy to meet her. Then this week she came up to me and invited me and the kiddos for a play-date with some fellow mommies. I was stoked. Since all of my friends live in a town 20 minutes from here, I've only had a few local play-dates at the McDonald's PlayPlace and the water park. It was a nice thought of just jotting across town to have some mommie/kiddo time. Now don't get me wrong, I will drive any distance for a play date so my friends in A-town do not despair, I will still drive to "play" ANYTIME!!! ;-)
Today was the day. I made some "no-bake" cookies last night and Isaiah, Samara and I piled into Bonnie at 11am and headed over for the play-date. It's such a small world because one of the mommies is related to our neighbor across the street from us. (sing with me now...it's a small world after all...) Anyway, it was a group of 3 other mommies and 7 precious kiddos. Isaiah was the oldest, but he handled himself very well. Samara dressed up as a princess so she was definitely in her element. I totally enjoyed getting to hear some of these gals' stories, where they are at with their faith, and their life as a mommy. We sipped on delicious coffee from our local coffee shop, had an amazing smörgåsbord for lunch, and then nibbled on the cookies as a snack. At 2:30pm, we made our way back home to let George out and then pick Malachi up from school. It was definitely a lovely Thursday.
Hopefully, I didn't scare them off and I'll get invited sometime for another play-date =)
Saturday, February 4, 2012
I Do Care
A few nights ago Malachi came into our bedroom long after he should have been asleep. With a heavy heart, he told me there was a girl at school who will say bad words (granted, I didn't ask what words they were because we are very strict about what they can say so the bad word may have been "stupid" or it could have been way worse.) But what concerned him the most was that she told Malachi that her dad doesn't care if she says the bad words; he just doesn't care. We talked about how sad that was and Malachi said that he was happy that James and I care.
This conversation has been nagging me ever since. Does this little girl have someone in her life who really does care about her? Does her dad realize that his daughter has this view of him? Why do some parents not take their role seriously? Do they think it's an option to be involved in their child's life? It's an option to raise these precious ones correctly? These are little humans who are desperately impressionable. What a reality check that at the age of 5 or 6, a child can tell whether or not a parent cares enough about them to teach them morals, values and discipline. And moreover, they are happy to have their parents care enough to teach them right from wrong.
Yes, it is exhausting disciplining kiddos; it is simply exhausting raising them. You have to die to yourself and think of what's best for them. But it's such a natural transition, though, too. When Malachi was first born, all I could think about was his needs, what I could do for him. Eventually, I had to remember that I had needs, too, that needed taken care of. But my first thought was about him. How do some parents not think about their kiddos' needs above their own?
With all of these thoughts, I then remembered going to Walmart last week just to grab a loaf of bread. I encountered a mother with 2 small girls down the aisle. I couldn't tell what the little curly-haired blond girl was saying, but suddenly the mom yelled at her to "shut up" and stop talking so *curse word* much. The little girl was crushed and told her mom that she wasn't being nice. I wanted to scoop that little girl up and hug her and tell her that Jesus loves her. She needed someone to love on her. Now, I am not the perfect "Walmart" mommy, but this just encouraged me to be that much more understanding and loving of a mommy. What did that teach that precious girl?
So for the record Malachi, Isaiah and Samara. I DO CARE. I do care that you are raised knowing Jesus loves you. I do care that you are hugged and loved on daily. I do care that you learn right from wrong. I do care that you are praised for your good choices and disciplined for your bad choices. I do care that you eat healthy, have clean clothes on your back and have a good home to come home to. I do care so incredibly much and I hope that you never have to question the depths of how much I care. I do care because I love you. It's that simple.
This conversation has been nagging me ever since. Does this little girl have someone in her life who really does care about her? Does her dad realize that his daughter has this view of him? Why do some parents not take their role seriously? Do they think it's an option to be involved in their child's life? It's an option to raise these precious ones correctly? These are little humans who are desperately impressionable. What a reality check that at the age of 5 or 6, a child can tell whether or not a parent cares enough about them to teach them morals, values and discipline. And moreover, they are happy to have their parents care enough to teach them right from wrong.
Yes, it is exhausting disciplining kiddos; it is simply exhausting raising them. You have to die to yourself and think of what's best for them. But it's such a natural transition, though, too. When Malachi was first born, all I could think about was his needs, what I could do for him. Eventually, I had to remember that I had needs, too, that needed taken care of. But my first thought was about him. How do some parents not think about their kiddos' needs above their own?
With all of these thoughts, I then remembered going to Walmart last week just to grab a loaf of bread. I encountered a mother with 2 small girls down the aisle. I couldn't tell what the little curly-haired blond girl was saying, but suddenly the mom yelled at her to "shut up" and stop talking so *curse word* much. The little girl was crushed and told her mom that she wasn't being nice. I wanted to scoop that little girl up and hug her and tell her that Jesus loves her. She needed someone to love on her. Now, I am not the perfect "Walmart" mommy, but this just encouraged me to be that much more understanding and loving of a mommy. What did that teach that precious girl?
So for the record Malachi, Isaiah and Samara. I DO CARE. I do care that you are raised knowing Jesus loves you. I do care that you are hugged and loved on daily. I do care that you learn right from wrong. I do care that you are praised for your good choices and disciplined for your bad choices. I do care that you eat healthy, have clean clothes on your back and have a good home to come home to. I do care so incredibly much and I hope that you never have to question the depths of how much I care. I do care because I love you. It's that simple.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thought I Was Leaving My Youth at the Dealership
Ever since before Christmas, our Honda Accord had transmission issues. It would act up at strange times; never a consistent pattern. After reading reviews on this particular year of Accord, we soon discovered that it was an incredibly common issue and Honda refused to recall it. And James also found that it was #2 on a list of worst cars to own due to the transmission. GAH! Three years ago we decided to spend the extra money for the "Honda" name and now we were faced with a huge decision. Do we spend thousands of dollars for the repair or find another car?
A few weeks ago James went to a dealership see what we could get out of the Honda. Because Honda keeps it's value extremely well, they offered us more than we were expecting. However, we didn't know what car we wanted to get so we didn't accept it. We thought about a mini-van, but it didn't get the kind of gas mileage as the Accord and since we drive that car to see family, we wanted something a little more economical. We considered getting another Ford Escape, but after James looked at one, he said that it was pretty small in the back and didn't want to see the kiddos so crammed back there. What to do, what to do?
The mechanic suggested we try to change the transmission fluid to see if that would help and so James did that a week or so ago. But soon it was obvious that it wasn't going to work. Monday James drove the car into Wichita and said it had major issues when he had to stop at lights. We decided that night that we would sell the car to the dealership and search for another car. It was our goal to keep the car budget limited to what we got out of the Accord and not to dip into our Emergency Fund unless absolutely necessary. We didn't want a car payment.
Wednesday afternoon James set out to find our new family vehicle. There were a few Pontiac Bonnevilles that were priced within our plan, the interior specs showed that it was roomier than the Accord, and they got excellent gas mileage. I was hopeful that one would work out for us. After looking at one, James texted me to say he thought the leg room was less than the Accord, but he was going to look at a nicer Bonneville at another dealer.
Around 6pmish, I got the call I was not prepared for. He said, "I found a Buick Park" and before he could say "Ave", I shouted, "NOOO!" No, no, no. Not a Grandpa Car; no way, no how. He asked that I hear him out. Ugh, ok. The car was an "Ultra" = "sporty" Grandpa car. Hmm...doubtful, but go ahead. The back seat had the same width as the Bonneville, but had more leg room. It was luxurious inside (duh, it was made for the geriatric clients!). It got the same mpg as the Pontiac, but was actually cheaper in price. The engine was super-charged and there many interesting features. Since it was so late, he couldn't take it to our mechanic to get checked out so he was going to put a small deposit down. I hurriedly read reviews and of course, it was loved by its owners and I couldn't find any major, common problems with the car. Dang!
James then went to sell the Accord and by the time he was ready for us to drive to Wichita, the kiddos were already asleep. I carried them to the truck and snuggled them in with blankies in hopes they would fall back asleep especially Malachi since it was a school night. But they stayed awake. By the time we got back home, it was 11pmish.
Yesterday James took the day off and we were back in Wichita at 9am to look at the Buick and to take it to our mechanic. I was trying to be a sport about it. Isaiah heard me call it a "Grandpa" car so he decided to call it that, too. I changed the name to a "G" car.
When we arrived at the dealer, Samara was immediately drawn to an 80's Mustang that was purple with yellow "fire" on the sides. She couldn't understand why this "awesome" car wouldn't work for us. And then we got down to the business at hand. The Buick. We packed Isaiah and Samara in the back seat and yes, they did have room. Yes, the car was luxurious, but it didn't feel comfortable. It felt stiff. I drove it and thought there was a little shake when I was going 55mph and there was a buzzing noise coming out of vent. We pulled back into the dealer and I then sat in the Bonneville. Poor James; I started to cry because that car was "me". It was big enough for the family, had the leather and upgrades we were used to, but it was "sporty mom", not "Grandpa". I told James I felt lost in the Buick (it didn't help that it's my emotional time of the month, too!) He just looked at me bewildered because he didn't know what to say to console me. The Bonneville would require us to dip into our Emergency Fund. Something we wanted to try to avoid. The Buick had more room and was cheaper. I finally told him that he should do what he thought is right and I wouldn't get mad; I would get over it.
So he drove the Buick to our town while I followed him. When we were close to Walmart, he called and told me the car shook horribly when he reached 70mph and he was going to get tired balanced to see if that would help. Also, the stereo sounded terrible. I tried not to get my hopes up. Afterward, James took the car back on the highway and he thought the shaking was a little better, but wanted my opinion. I asked God to clear my mind from all the negativity I had towards the car. In town, it was a very smooth ride. I was trying very hard to be unbiased. Then I got out of town. The shaking was both in the steering wheel and the seat. I could imagine how nauseous I would be after a car trip to KC. I came back and told him my thoughts. We both agreed that it should go back to the dealer and we would keep on looking. I told him that if he didn't think the Pontiac was the right car for us, then we should wait until we found exactly what we wanted. Not to rush. He drove off for Wichita.
About 20 minutes later, James rushed into the house. Handed me a set of keys and told me to drive it. What?!? I was confused. He told me that he stopped at a local dealer to see what cars they had within our budget. They only had one car. A Pontiac Bonneville! James was able to talk them down a little and it was going to be the cheapest car we had found. Ahh, it was a beaut. It was a metallic gold. Not Grandpa-y. The inside was very basic, no leather, sunroof =(, but it did have all the "power" features and a good stereo! I immediately felt at home in it. I drove it and found nothing major wrong. There was a ticking sound when I turned corners, but our mechanic was going to check it all out so I was hopeful that it would be ok.
Since it was close to the time to pick Malachi up, James decided to go look at another Bonneville in Wichita that was "loaded" to see what their bottom dollar was and then return the Buick. I would pick him up after Malachi was released. After making our 3rd trip into Wichita in the span of 18 hours, we were dunzo with the Buick. YIPPEE!!! On the way back to our town, James said that the Pontiac felt more comfortable and he really hoped it would work out. I was glad that he was ok with not getting the Buick.
Our mechanic said that the car runs great. It needs the normal repairs you would expect like new spark plugs and the tires will need to be replaced. However, there was a coolant leak in the manifold and it would cost $800 to repair. Yikes! So James went to the dealer (who also has a repair shop) and was able to bargain down to where we only pay $250 for the repair. James' reasoning was that for the extra $800 we could go into Wichita and get a Bonneville that was fully loaded. The dealer said that he would also work with us on giving us a good deal on the other "maintenance" items needed on the car. So on Tuesday, the car will get the repairs made and we should be *hopefully* be good to go for a long time =)
*As a side note, James took the car to work this morning and I woke up to a completely flat tire on the truck. Praise God we had the 2nd car or else it would have been a very cold and long walk to the school!*
A few weeks ago James went to a dealership see what we could get out of the Honda. Because Honda keeps it's value extremely well, they offered us more than we were expecting. However, we didn't know what car we wanted to get so we didn't accept it. We thought about a mini-van, but it didn't get the kind of gas mileage as the Accord and since we drive that car to see family, we wanted something a little more economical. We considered getting another Ford Escape, but after James looked at one, he said that it was pretty small in the back and didn't want to see the kiddos so crammed back there. What to do, what to do?
The mechanic suggested we try to change the transmission fluid to see if that would help and so James did that a week or so ago. But soon it was obvious that it wasn't going to work. Monday James drove the car into Wichita and said it had major issues when he had to stop at lights. We decided that night that we would sell the car to the dealership and search for another car. It was our goal to keep the car budget limited to what we got out of the Accord and not to dip into our Emergency Fund unless absolutely necessary. We didn't want a car payment.
Wednesday afternoon James set out to find our new family vehicle. There were a few Pontiac Bonnevilles that were priced within our plan, the interior specs showed that it was roomier than the Accord, and they got excellent gas mileage. I was hopeful that one would work out for us. After looking at one, James texted me to say he thought the leg room was less than the Accord, but he was going to look at a nicer Bonneville at another dealer.
Around 6pmish, I got the call I was not prepared for. He said, "I found a Buick Park" and before he could say "Ave", I shouted, "NOOO!" No, no, no. Not a Grandpa Car; no way, no how. He asked that I hear him out. Ugh, ok. The car was an "Ultra" = "sporty" Grandpa car. Hmm...doubtful, but go ahead. The back seat had the same width as the Bonneville, but had more leg room. It was luxurious inside (duh, it was made for the geriatric clients!). It got the same mpg as the Pontiac, but was actually cheaper in price. The engine was super-charged and there many interesting features. Since it was so late, he couldn't take it to our mechanic to get checked out so he was going to put a small deposit down. I hurriedly read reviews and of course, it was loved by its owners and I couldn't find any major, common problems with the car. Dang!
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| Here is the "G" car. Enough Said. |
James then went to sell the Accord and by the time he was ready for us to drive to Wichita, the kiddos were already asleep. I carried them to the truck and snuggled them in with blankies in hopes they would fall back asleep especially Malachi since it was a school night. But they stayed awake. By the time we got back home, it was 11pmish.
Yesterday James took the day off and we were back in Wichita at 9am to look at the Buick and to take it to our mechanic. I was trying to be a sport about it. Isaiah heard me call it a "Grandpa" car so he decided to call it that, too. I changed the name to a "G" car.
When we arrived at the dealer, Samara was immediately drawn to an 80's Mustang that was purple with yellow "fire" on the sides. She couldn't understand why this "awesome" car wouldn't work for us. And then we got down to the business at hand. The Buick. We packed Isaiah and Samara in the back seat and yes, they did have room. Yes, the car was luxurious, but it didn't feel comfortable. It felt stiff. I drove it and thought there was a little shake when I was going 55mph and there was a buzzing noise coming out of vent. We pulled back into the dealer and I then sat in the Bonneville. Poor James; I started to cry because that car was "me". It was big enough for the family, had the leather and upgrades we were used to, but it was "sporty mom", not "Grandpa". I told James I felt lost in the Buick (it didn't help that it's my emotional time of the month, too!) He just looked at me bewildered because he didn't know what to say to console me. The Bonneville would require us to dip into our Emergency Fund. Something we wanted to try to avoid. The Buick had more room and was cheaper. I finally told him that he should do what he thought is right and I wouldn't get mad; I would get over it.
So he drove the Buick to our town while I followed him. When we were close to Walmart, he called and told me the car shook horribly when he reached 70mph and he was going to get tired balanced to see if that would help. Also, the stereo sounded terrible. I tried not to get my hopes up. Afterward, James took the car back on the highway and he thought the shaking was a little better, but wanted my opinion. I asked God to clear my mind from all the negativity I had towards the car. In town, it was a very smooth ride. I was trying very hard to be unbiased. Then I got out of town. The shaking was both in the steering wheel and the seat. I could imagine how nauseous I would be after a car trip to KC. I came back and told him my thoughts. We both agreed that it should go back to the dealer and we would keep on looking. I told him that if he didn't think the Pontiac was the right car for us, then we should wait until we found exactly what we wanted. Not to rush. He drove off for Wichita.
About 20 minutes later, James rushed into the house. Handed me a set of keys and told me to drive it. What?!? I was confused. He told me that he stopped at a local dealer to see what cars they had within our budget. They only had one car. A Pontiac Bonneville! James was able to talk them down a little and it was going to be the cheapest car we had found. Ahh, it was a beaut. It was a metallic gold. Not Grandpa-y. The inside was very basic, no leather, sunroof =(, but it did have all the "power" features and a good stereo! I immediately felt at home in it. I drove it and found nothing major wrong. There was a ticking sound when I turned corners, but our mechanic was going to check it all out so I was hopeful that it would be ok.
Since it was close to the time to pick Malachi up, James decided to go look at another Bonneville in Wichita that was "loaded" to see what their bottom dollar was and then return the Buick. I would pick him up after Malachi was released. After making our 3rd trip into Wichita in the span of 18 hours, we were dunzo with the Buick. YIPPEE!!! On the way back to our town, James said that the Pontiac felt more comfortable and he really hoped it would work out. I was glad that he was ok with not getting the Buick.
Our mechanic said that the car runs great. It needs the normal repairs you would expect like new spark plugs and the tires will need to be replaced. However, there was a coolant leak in the manifold and it would cost $800 to repair. Yikes! So James went to the dealer (who also has a repair shop) and was able to bargain down to where we only pay $250 for the repair. James' reasoning was that for the extra $800 we could go into Wichita and get a Bonneville that was fully loaded. The dealer said that he would also work with us on giving us a good deal on the other "maintenance" items needed on the car. So on Tuesday, the car will get the repairs made and we should be *hopefully* be good to go for a long time =)
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| Welcome Home, Bonnie!!! |
*As a side note, James took the car to work this morning and I woke up to a completely flat tire on the truck. Praise God we had the 2nd car or else it would have been a very cold and long walk to the school!*
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Birthing Day, Dance Class, and Birthday
The latter part of last week was bustling with activity. Late Thursday afternoon I got the call that Auntie Erin needed to report for duty because my sister was in labor!!! I rushed up to KC as quickly as I could, but was about 30 minutes too late for my little niece's arrival. Miss Sylvia Lois was born on 1/12/12 at 8:21pm and weighed 5lb 14 1/2 oz and was 18 1/2 inches long. Sara was 37 weeks along and had been progressing the past week so I wasn't at all surprised she went a tad early. Oh, Sylvia is just presh! It's amazing how such a teeny-tiny little baby can bring so much love and happiness to one's soul. She was just content to be held and snuggled. And Auntie Erin couldn't object to that!
Initially, I had planned on coming home on Friday, but decided to spend one more night and then get up before the sun on Saturday to come home. Friday was spent hanging out at the hospital and running some errands with my mommy. It had been a long time since I had been able to bum around with her so I truly enjoyed it. We also dropped by to see a dear friend who had a handsome baby boy last year, but I hadn't officially met him. "Mr. Bundles" is definitely a bundle of joy and it was so nice to see her little family!
Samara started her dance class on Friday. James and Isaiah took her. They practiced "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes", and some dance moves. She came out running to James declaring, "That was great!" I guess we'll go back again this week =)
Saturday was my birthday. It's the last year that I can be called a "20-something" year old. I definitely have mixed emotions about the looming birthday next year, but there's nothing I can do about it except to accept it so that's what I'm trying to do! My day started at 5:30am with my dad having a cup of coffee with me before I left. I had to rush home because even though we took our house off the market almost a month ago there were potential buyers who had seen it online while it was still listed and were at a point where they could start looking at a home to purchase. Even though it was my birthday I gave consent for them to view our house so I had to prepare for their visit. It's amazing how even a "clean" house can take 6 1/2 hours to get "show ready". I was definitely happy when we could get back home and enjoy the rest my birthday.
My parents gave me some necessities and fun things for organizing my big "Happy 30th Birthday" trip next year (folders, pen, fun plates for snacks which I will definitely need while researching the trip, etc). They also gave me a Tea Forte set. I'm definitely a coffee drinker, but I'm excited to try this out. My sister's family gave me a cozy, fleece jacket and a gift card to Starbucks which I enjoyed while I drove home early on Saturday! James gave me an Adele CD so I'll be jamming out to it in my car and around the house. The kiddos kept telling me "Happy Birthday" all day long and we enjoyed a pizza and cupcakes later that day.
What an incredible week and this week we will celebrate Isaiah's birthday. I am truly a blessed girl.
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| Proud Auntie Erin |
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| Sweet Mama Sara and Precious Sylvia |
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| My Mommy and Mr. Bundles |
Saturday was my birthday. It's the last year that I can be called a "20-something" year old. I definitely have mixed emotions about the looming birthday next year, but there's nothing I can do about it except to accept it so that's what I'm trying to do! My day started at 5:30am with my dad having a cup of coffee with me before I left. I had to rush home because even though we took our house off the market almost a month ago there were potential buyers who had seen it online while it was still listed and were at a point where they could start looking at a home to purchase. Even though it was my birthday I gave consent for them to view our house so I had to prepare for their visit. It's amazing how even a "clean" house can take 6 1/2 hours to get "show ready". I was definitely happy when we could get back home and enjoy the rest my birthday.
My parents gave me some necessities and fun things for organizing my big "Happy 30th Birthday" trip next year (folders, pen, fun plates for snacks which I will definitely need while researching the trip, etc). They also gave me a Tea Forte set. I'm definitely a coffee drinker, but I'm excited to try this out. My sister's family gave me a cozy, fleece jacket and a gift card to Starbucks which I enjoyed while I drove home early on Saturday! James gave me an Adele CD so I'll be jamming out to it in my car and around the house. The kiddos kept telling me "Happy Birthday" all day long and we enjoyed a pizza and cupcakes later that day.
What an incredible week and this week we will celebrate Isaiah's birthday. I am truly a blessed girl.
Friday, January 6, 2012
50 Rules for Dads of Daughters
This is crazy good...I think my dad did almost all of these. Thanks Dad =)
50 Rules for Dads of Daughters {by Michael Mitchell}
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About Michael
Michael Mitchell is an (almost) thirty-something dad who blogs daily tips and life lessons for dads of daughters at lifetoheryears.com. He spends his days practicing the arts of fatherhood and husbandry, while attempting to be a man of God and a professional raiser of philanthropic funds. On the rare occasion he’s not tied up with the aforementioned and other pursuits of awesomeness, he enjoys fighting street gangs for local charities and drinking from a cup that’s half full. Bookmark Life To Her Years, follow Michael on Twitter, and “like” him on Facebook for more “rules”.
2. Always be there. Quality time doesn’t happen without quantity time. Hang out together for no other reason than just to be in each other’s presence. Be genuinely interested in the things that interest her. She needs her dad to be involved in her life at every stage. Don’t just sit idly by while she add years to her… add life to her years.
5. Pray for her. Regularly. Passionately. Continually.
9. Of course you look silly playing peek-a-boo. You should play anyway.
11. There will come a day when she asks for a puppy. Don’t over think it. At least one time in her life, just say, “Yes.”
12. It’s never too early to start teaching her about money. She will still probably suck you dry as a teenager… and on her wedding day.
Photo Credit :: Danielle Rocke Toews
17. Learn to say no. She may pitch a fit today, but someday you’ll both be glad you stuck to your guns.
18. Tell her she’s beautiful. Say it over and over again. Someday an animated movie or “beauty” magazine will try to convince her otherwise.
22. She’s as smart as any boy. Make sure she knows that.
23. When she learns to give kisses, she will want to plant them all over your face. Encourage this practice.
25. Letting her ride on your shoulders is pure magic. Do it now while you have a strong back and she’s still tiny.
30. Never miss her birthday. In ten years she won’t remember the present you gave her. She will remember if you weren’t there.
33. Take her swimsuit shopping. Don’t be afraid to veto some of her choices, but resist the urge to buy her full-body beach pajamas.
34. Somewhere between the time she turns three and her sixth birthday, the odds are good that she will ask you to marry her. Let her down gently.
37. Introduce her to the swings at your local park. She’ll squeal for you to push her higher and faster. Her definition of “higher and faster” is probably not the same as yours. Keep that in mind.
38. When she’s a bit older, your definition of higher and faster will be a lot closer to hers. When that day comes, go ahead… give it all you’ve got.
40. She might ask you to buy her a pony on her birthday. Unless you live on a farm, do not buy her a pony on her birthday. It’s OK to rent one though.
41. Take it easy on the presents for her birthday and Christmas. Instead, give her the gift of experiences you can share together.
44. Write her a handwritten letter every year on her birthday. Give them to her when she goes off to college, becomes a mother herself, or when you think she needs them most.
46. When in doubt, trust your heart. She already does.
48. Ice cream covers over a multitude of sins. Know her favorite flavor.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Malachi's Birth Story
Today Malachi turned 6 years old. It seems like only yesterday he was a newborn yet I really don't remember what life was like without him. Every birth story is special and unique and so I thought I would share our journey about Malachi.
The fall of 2004 I was a senior in college obtaining my Bachelor of Nursing degree. James and I had been married a little over a year and we were at a point where we thought it was a good time to start our family. We wanted to be young parents so that when the kiddos grew up we were still young enough to enjoy life. So I went off of birth control so we could possibly get pregnant. Months went by and no pregnancy. I started to get antsy because many other girls in my class were pregnant and as happy as I was for them, I yearned for my own.
Finally, the Tuesday after Mother's Day in May 2005 I realized that I was "late". Could it be? I waited until 6am the following morning and took the pregnancy test. The 2 pink lines appeared and I was overjoyed. I rushed into the bedroom where James was waiting. I jumped up and down and shared the joyous news. And in the humor only James has, he asked, "Well, is it mine?" I'm pretty sure I slugged him for that. We were both thrilled at the prospect of parenthood.
The first trimester was such a busy time. I graduated from college, studied and passed boards and went through orientation for my nursing job in CVICU at a large hospital in Wichita. I suffered with nausea most mornings and the normal fatigue. At week 14, I was receiving report at work and passed out, hitting my head on the edge of the counter. It was embarrassing, but I was fine. From then on, I made sure I ate more protein in the morning!
In late August, James' sister was going to graduate from the Army's Boot Camp in South Carolina. We decided that we wanted to make it so we made plans to drive down with his parents and little brother (who is taller than James which is important a little later in the story!) Initially, I wanted to fly down there because I was starting to get big and the thought of a 22-hour drive (one-way) just wasn't very appealing. But, to save money, I decided that I would tough it out. As with most new nurses, I was putting in my time working the night shift. I couldn't sleep very well during the day, but I did the best I could. I worked the night before we left and took a short nap before James and I drove up to Salina to meet up with his parents and brother.
His parents owned a minivan with a middle bench seat and a back bench seat. I thought that the boys could share a bench while I stretched out on the other bench. But when we arrived in Salina, I was in for a rude awakening. The middle bench was folded down so that the suitcases and coolers could be stored there. The back seat was reserved for James, Jason and preggo me. Are you feeling my pain yet? Yes, it was as uncomfortable as you can imagine. I was smashed by the window with a belly that wouldn't move. We needed to make good time, though, because there was an impeding storm called Hurricane Katrina that was going to affect our route.
I tried to nap as much as I could. Around midnight, it was my turn to drive. James was my co-pilot. After about an hour of driving, James was fast asleep and I started to drive into horrendous rain and wind (aka Katrina). It was pitch black and my knuckles were white from holding onto the wheel. On the radio, all they were talking about was the magnitude of the storm and the impact it had already had. By daylight, James woke up and I was super eager to let someone else drive. Everyone felt bad that they slept through the storm while I was left to drive through it. We finally made it to our destination and enjoyed hanging out with Kristen. The rest of the trip was uneventful, thank goodness!
Around week 18, we had a sonogram. James made the request that we not find out the sex of the baby. He said there were few good surprises in life and this was one of the them. It was hard not to look, but I wanted to honor his wish so it was going to stay a surprise. (We found out with Samara and even though it's hard not to know, I prefer waiting until their arrival. To me it's more special) It seemed like it was going to be a normal pregnancy.
However, at week 24, I started spotting. The first time it happened I was getting ready to go in for my 12 hour shift. I called the doctor's office in a panic and they told me to stay home and be on bed rest until I could get in for a sonogram the next day. In tears, I called the charge nurse to let her know and she was so supportive and understanding. The next afternoon I went for a sonogram and it was discovered I had an "incompetent cervix" or as James lovingly called it my "retarded cervix". This meant that my cervix would have a hard time not dilating early and the chances of going full term were slimmer. My OB/GYN suggested that if I wanted to continue to work, then I should work no more than 8 hours/shift. I was so fortunate that my boss was willing to let me have the hours of 11pm-7am.
For the next few weeks, it seemed like my cervix was holding up, but at 31 1/2 weeks, I had more spotting and was dilated to a 3 and was already 50% effaced. I was put on strict bed rest. Of course, this had to fall right before the Holiday season! It was a long 4 1/2 weeks, but I made it through and was able to go back a few days before Christmas. I was under the impression that maybe if I worked a few shifts then I would go into labor before the end of the year (tax purposes, ya know ;-) ). James and I went on long, cold December walks before I left for my shifts. But nothing seemed to be working! During one few of my final shifts, there was a male nurse who also was a farmer. He got on the unit intercom around midnight one night and said that he was looking at a farming catalog and he could order cow forceps and a gallon of lubrication and slide the baby right on out. All the staff were busting up laughing. If only that would work...
On New Year's Eve, I went in for my 3rd and last shift of the week. I was desperate to pop this child out! I was helping to pull patients up in their beds even if they didn't look like they necessarily needed it. I was squatting every chance I could. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions since week 28. I was so used to some sort of contractions I was hoping my water would break because I was scared I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the contractions. My shift came and went and no labor. I drudged back home and rolled into bed around 9am. James was fast asleep. At 11am, I rolled over, my back to the bedroom door. Immediately, I felt the urge to go pee. I quickly decided that since I had JUST moved away from the door, I could hold it a few minutes before attempting to get up. Not more than 30 seconds later, I felt what I thought was pee streaming down. I hopped out of bed as quickly as a 38 week preggo woman could. Completely and utterly embarrassed at wetting the bed and dreading having to tell James because I was pretty sure I wouldn't live it down. But, very quickly I realized that this was my water!
I shouted at James to get up because my water broke. He rolled over and asked if he could sleep for a few more hours. Uhh, no mister, get yourself out of bed and drive me to the hospital!!!! He (very slowly in my opinion) hopped in the shower while I called my parents to tell them the news. My dad answered the phone and caught me off guard with his response to the news of my water breaking. He asked, "Well, what does that mean?" Hadn't my dad gone through this TWO times before?!? "Dad, it means the baby is coming today!". "Oh. Your mom is in the shower. I'll tell her." Little did I know that they, along with my sister and brother-in-law, had quite enjoyed their New Year's Eve and were a little slow at getting around the next day.
At long last, we were in the Escape on our way to the hospital. James hadn't eaten so he stopped at Sonic to grab a bite. He wanted me to eat, too, but since it was my normal sleeping time, I had zero appetite. We arrived at the hospital. Yes, my water indeed broke (duh!) and soon I was settled in our room. Of course, with it being New Year's, my OB/GYN had the day off. I was bummed, but the thought of holding my little bundle outweighed my disappointment. The attending told me that my contractions weren't causing me to dilate any further and so they were going to start Pitocin. The devil's drug, the dreaded "P" word. James and I had both been adamant about having a natural birth, free from pain killers, epidurals, etc. We had read about the Bradley method and felt like we could deliver naturally by using some of the techniques it taught. But with the use of Pitocin, would I really be able to withstand the natural contractions along with the medicine-induced contractions?
Within the span of 30-45 minutes of having Pitocin on board, my mood had changed. I no longer was laughing/joking. Mentally, I had sunken deep into myself so that I could totally concentrate on the task at hand. James sat by me, holding my hand, caressing my face and talking me through each painful contraction. My mom was on the other side with cold clothes for my forehead to help with the waves of nausea I was experiencing. There was a point during the labor, I thought that I couldn't possibly go any further without an epidural. I wasn't able to have any breaks between contractions because of the Pitocin. But I so wanted to deliver our child the way we had envisioned it and that thought allowed me to press on. (I later discovered that it was around the same time that James also thought that maybe I should get an epidural, but he didn't want to come across that he had doubts about me being able to deliver so he didn't mention it).
Approximately 5 hours after starting the Pitocin (and still only going on 2 hours of sleep), I felt the urge to push. Oh sweet relief. Most of my friends had only pushed for a few minutes before their baby came so surely my delivery would be about the same, right? The doctor and resident came in along with a host of other personnel. I was so ready to meet our child. Was it a Malachi or a Samara? Oh the anticipation! James and the nurse were talking me through my pushing/breathing cycles, holding my legs. The doctors were trying to coach me on where exactly to push. And I pushed, and pushed. I didn't scream like other women I heard. I was determined to use all of my strength to bring this child into the world. But what was taking soooo long? I was starting to panic inside because I didn't know how much longer I could physically endure the labor without sleep.
And then an hour and 10 minutes after the initial push, Malachi Luke Dinkel entered this world. James gasped, "It's a boy!" His eyes were moist from the tears he had when looking at his son for the first time. A boy. How perfect. He was an even 7lb and 19 1/2 inches long. Born at 7:10pm. He was precious. My parents and sister and brother-in-law met him and then wearily drove back to KC. That first night was spent with Malachi laying in between James and I while we stared at him and talked about our incredible journey to parenthood. Then one of us would pick him up and kiss that precious face. Oh and that newborn smell. Ahh, wish I could bottle that smell up forever.
We stayed in the hospital for 2 days. James' parents, sister and younger brother visited us the day after his birth. His older brother met Malachi after we got home. We juggled with trying to figure out each cry meant. Malachi started to wake up every 30 minutes and we were so exhausted. At our 2 week check-up, our doctor suggested the "Baby Wise" book. It talks about having your baby on a strict routine: eat time, play time, bed time. Bed time required you to just lay the baby down while they are awake and they will soothe themselves to sleep. At first, I was apprehensive because it went against everything we had heard about demand feeding and rocking the baby to sleep. But nothing else seemed to be working so we gave it a chance. Since Malachi didn't start out with being on a routine, it took him about 2 weeks for him to get used to it. Once he did, though, it was amazing. I knew exactly when he was going to eat, sleep, etc. I could actually plan my day and it would normally go according to plan. And Malachi was a much happier, easy-going baby. For us, the routine was a lifesaver and we implemented it right away with Isaiah and Samara and the transition went seamlessly with them.
Malachi has truly been a pleasure to call our own. His sweet, caring nature is heartwarming. He doesn't shower us with hugs and kisses, but when he gives them, it brightens the worst day. Out of the 3 kiddos, he is the most laid-back, obedient one. (maybe it's a first born thing). While it's sad to see him grow up so quickly, I'm excited to see the young man he is turning into. Malachi, you are such an awesome dude. I am honored that God chose me to be your mommy =)
Happy Birthday!
The fall of 2004 I was a senior in college obtaining my Bachelor of Nursing degree. James and I had been married a little over a year and we were at a point where we thought it was a good time to start our family. We wanted to be young parents so that when the kiddos grew up we were still young enough to enjoy life. So I went off of birth control so we could possibly get pregnant. Months went by and no pregnancy. I started to get antsy because many other girls in my class were pregnant and as happy as I was for them, I yearned for my own.
Finally, the Tuesday after Mother's Day in May 2005 I realized that I was "late". Could it be? I waited until 6am the following morning and took the pregnancy test. The 2 pink lines appeared and I was overjoyed. I rushed into the bedroom where James was waiting. I jumped up and down and shared the joyous news. And in the humor only James has, he asked, "Well, is it mine?" I'm pretty sure I slugged him for that. We were both thrilled at the prospect of parenthood.
The first trimester was such a busy time. I graduated from college, studied and passed boards and went through orientation for my nursing job in CVICU at a large hospital in Wichita. I suffered with nausea most mornings and the normal fatigue. At week 14, I was receiving report at work and passed out, hitting my head on the edge of the counter. It was embarrassing, but I was fine. From then on, I made sure I ate more protein in the morning!
In late August, James' sister was going to graduate from the Army's Boot Camp in South Carolina. We decided that we wanted to make it so we made plans to drive down with his parents and little brother (who is taller than James which is important a little later in the story!) Initially, I wanted to fly down there because I was starting to get big and the thought of a 22-hour drive (one-way) just wasn't very appealing. But, to save money, I decided that I would tough it out. As with most new nurses, I was putting in my time working the night shift. I couldn't sleep very well during the day, but I did the best I could. I worked the night before we left and took a short nap before James and I drove up to Salina to meet up with his parents and brother.
His parents owned a minivan with a middle bench seat and a back bench seat. I thought that the boys could share a bench while I stretched out on the other bench. But when we arrived in Salina, I was in for a rude awakening. The middle bench was folded down so that the suitcases and coolers could be stored there. The back seat was reserved for James, Jason and preggo me. Are you feeling my pain yet? Yes, it was as uncomfortable as you can imagine. I was smashed by the window with a belly that wouldn't move. We needed to make good time, though, because there was an impeding storm called Hurricane Katrina that was going to affect our route.
I tried to nap as much as I could. Around midnight, it was my turn to drive. James was my co-pilot. After about an hour of driving, James was fast asleep and I started to drive into horrendous rain and wind (aka Katrina). It was pitch black and my knuckles were white from holding onto the wheel. On the radio, all they were talking about was the magnitude of the storm and the impact it had already had. By daylight, James woke up and I was super eager to let someone else drive. Everyone felt bad that they slept through the storm while I was left to drive through it. We finally made it to our destination and enjoyed hanging out with Kristen. The rest of the trip was uneventful, thank goodness!
Around week 18, we had a sonogram. James made the request that we not find out the sex of the baby. He said there were few good surprises in life and this was one of the them. It was hard not to look, but I wanted to honor his wish so it was going to stay a surprise. (We found out with Samara and even though it's hard not to know, I prefer waiting until their arrival. To me it's more special) It seemed like it was going to be a normal pregnancy.
However, at week 24, I started spotting. The first time it happened I was getting ready to go in for my 12 hour shift. I called the doctor's office in a panic and they told me to stay home and be on bed rest until I could get in for a sonogram the next day. In tears, I called the charge nurse to let her know and she was so supportive and understanding. The next afternoon I went for a sonogram and it was discovered I had an "incompetent cervix" or as James lovingly called it my "retarded cervix". This meant that my cervix would have a hard time not dilating early and the chances of going full term were slimmer. My OB/GYN suggested that if I wanted to continue to work, then I should work no more than 8 hours/shift. I was so fortunate that my boss was willing to let me have the hours of 11pm-7am.
For the next few weeks, it seemed like my cervix was holding up, but at 31 1/2 weeks, I had more spotting and was dilated to a 3 and was already 50% effaced. I was put on strict bed rest. Of course, this had to fall right before the Holiday season! It was a long 4 1/2 weeks, but I made it through and was able to go back a few days before Christmas. I was under the impression that maybe if I worked a few shifts then I would go into labor before the end of the year (tax purposes, ya know ;-) ). James and I went on long, cold December walks before I left for my shifts. But nothing seemed to be working! During one few of my final shifts, there was a male nurse who also was a farmer. He got on the unit intercom around midnight one night and said that he was looking at a farming catalog and he could order cow forceps and a gallon of lubrication and slide the baby right on out. All the staff were busting up laughing. If only that would work...
On New Year's Eve, I went in for my 3rd and last shift of the week. I was desperate to pop this child out! I was helping to pull patients up in their beds even if they didn't look like they necessarily needed it. I was squatting every chance I could. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions since week 28. I was so used to some sort of contractions I was hoping my water would break because I was scared I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the contractions. My shift came and went and no labor. I drudged back home and rolled into bed around 9am. James was fast asleep. At 11am, I rolled over, my back to the bedroom door. Immediately, I felt the urge to go pee. I quickly decided that since I had JUST moved away from the door, I could hold it a few minutes before attempting to get up. Not more than 30 seconds later, I felt what I thought was pee streaming down. I hopped out of bed as quickly as a 38 week preggo woman could. Completely and utterly embarrassed at wetting the bed and dreading having to tell James because I was pretty sure I wouldn't live it down. But, very quickly I realized that this was my water!
I shouted at James to get up because my water broke. He rolled over and asked if he could sleep for a few more hours. Uhh, no mister, get yourself out of bed and drive me to the hospital!!!! He (very slowly in my opinion) hopped in the shower while I called my parents to tell them the news. My dad answered the phone and caught me off guard with his response to the news of my water breaking. He asked, "Well, what does that mean?" Hadn't my dad gone through this TWO times before?!? "Dad, it means the baby is coming today!". "Oh. Your mom is in the shower. I'll tell her." Little did I know that they, along with my sister and brother-in-law, had quite enjoyed their New Year's Eve and were a little slow at getting around the next day.
At long last, we were in the Escape on our way to the hospital. James hadn't eaten so he stopped at Sonic to grab a bite. He wanted me to eat, too, but since it was my normal sleeping time, I had zero appetite. We arrived at the hospital. Yes, my water indeed broke (duh!) and soon I was settled in our room. Of course, with it being New Year's, my OB/GYN had the day off. I was bummed, but the thought of holding my little bundle outweighed my disappointment. The attending told me that my contractions weren't causing me to dilate any further and so they were going to start Pitocin. The devil's drug, the dreaded "P" word. James and I had both been adamant about having a natural birth, free from pain killers, epidurals, etc. We had read about the Bradley method and felt like we could deliver naturally by using some of the techniques it taught. But with the use of Pitocin, would I really be able to withstand the natural contractions along with the medicine-induced contractions?
Within the span of 30-45 minutes of having Pitocin on board, my mood had changed. I no longer was laughing/joking. Mentally, I had sunken deep into myself so that I could totally concentrate on the task at hand. James sat by me, holding my hand, caressing my face and talking me through each painful contraction. My mom was on the other side with cold clothes for my forehead to help with the waves of nausea I was experiencing. There was a point during the labor, I thought that I couldn't possibly go any further without an epidural. I wasn't able to have any breaks between contractions because of the Pitocin. But I so wanted to deliver our child the way we had envisioned it and that thought allowed me to press on. (I later discovered that it was around the same time that James also thought that maybe I should get an epidural, but he didn't want to come across that he had doubts about me being able to deliver so he didn't mention it).
Approximately 5 hours after starting the Pitocin (and still only going on 2 hours of sleep), I felt the urge to push. Oh sweet relief. Most of my friends had only pushed for a few minutes before their baby came so surely my delivery would be about the same, right? The doctor and resident came in along with a host of other personnel. I was so ready to meet our child. Was it a Malachi or a Samara? Oh the anticipation! James and the nurse were talking me through my pushing/breathing cycles, holding my legs. The doctors were trying to coach me on where exactly to push. And I pushed, and pushed. I didn't scream like other women I heard. I was determined to use all of my strength to bring this child into the world. But what was taking soooo long? I was starting to panic inside because I didn't know how much longer I could physically endure the labor without sleep.
And then an hour and 10 minutes after the initial push, Malachi Luke Dinkel entered this world. James gasped, "It's a boy!" His eyes were moist from the tears he had when looking at his son for the first time. A boy. How perfect. He was an even 7lb and 19 1/2 inches long. Born at 7:10pm. He was precious. My parents and sister and brother-in-law met him and then wearily drove back to KC. That first night was spent with Malachi laying in between James and I while we stared at him and talked about our incredible journey to parenthood. Then one of us would pick him up and kiss that precious face. Oh and that newborn smell. Ahh, wish I could bottle that smell up forever.
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| Our New Family! |
Malachi has truly been a pleasure to call our own. His sweet, caring nature is heartwarming. He doesn't shower us with hugs and kisses, but when he gives them, it brightens the worst day. Out of the 3 kiddos, he is the most laid-back, obedient one. (maybe it's a first born thing). While it's sad to see him grow up so quickly, I'm excited to see the young man he is turning into. Malachi, you are such an awesome dude. I am honored that God chose me to be your mommy =)
Happy Birthday!
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| The Night Malachi Came Home Malachi means: "Messenger of God" |
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Yellow Day
Poor Malachi. His streak of all "Green Days" has now ended. When I pulled up to get him from school, I could tell something was bothering him. He didn't run up to the car with a smile. Instead he walked up, opened the door, and the tears started streaming down his little face. "I...had...a...yellow...day" <sniff, tear, sniff>. I then asked him what happened. He said that he and another girl were talking during tier time. He said that during the last recess he couldn't even play because he was too upset about his "Yellow Day". Instead, he took a walk around the playground and then sat down on some smooth rocks. I told him that while I was disappointed with his choice to disobey I still loved him just as much. Of course, though, there would be punishments at home. No Halloween candy or playing any computer games tonight. He didn't argue or complain.
When we got home, he had to go tell James about his day. James was in our bedroom and Malachi could barely get the news out before the tears began running down his face. James, too, told him that we were still proud of him and to try harder tomorrow. Malachi then nestled between us on the bed for a few minutes.
While it breaks my heart that his streak has ended, I am still so very proud that for 3 months straight he was able to listen and obey at school without problems. Maybe this will show him to never let his guard down and to not take "Green Days" for granted. Cheer up there, kiddo! Tomorrow is a new day =)
When we got home, he had to go tell James about his day. James was in our bedroom and Malachi could barely get the news out before the tears began running down his face. James, too, told him that we were still proud of him and to try harder tomorrow. Malachi then nestled between us on the bed for a few minutes.
While it breaks my heart that his streak has ended, I am still so very proud that for 3 months straight he was able to listen and obey at school without problems. Maybe this will show him to never let his guard down and to not take "Green Days" for granted. Cheer up there, kiddo! Tomorrow is a new day =)
Thursday, November 10, 2011
My Dearest Uncle JR
The week of October 17th my Uncle JR was admitted to the hospital. He hadn't been able to eat for about a week. There had been other times when he wasn't able to eat and so it was everyone's hope that he would pull through yet again. You see he had battled colon cancer for the past 6 years. When he was first diagnosed, it was already at a Stage IV (the worst stage to be at). But, God performed many miracles during these 6 years and gave us way more time with him than ever was expected. By that Friday, the 21st, though, it was obvious to the doctors that this time there would be no miracle. The cancer was squeezing his small intestine causing him to not be able to keep food down. Because of his fragile state, he was not a candidate for surgery to insert a GI tube for feeding. Plus, the tube would only prolong the inevitable. My uncle had exhausted all chemo options; there was no hope for remission.
By late Friday morning, it was decided that my uncle would be moved to a hospice center and he would be made as comfortable as possible. He was not expected to make it through the weekend. My mom called me to let me know this. I knew I had to go up to say goodbye. I called James at work to let him know and he said that he would leave whenever I needed him to. After getting off the phone with him, I started crying. Malachi was home from school that day and noticed me crying. I explained to him and Isaiah what was going on. They immediately wanted to do something for their Papa since Uncle JR was his only brother and they knew he would be sad. They both decided to draw pictures for both my dad and my uncle. The pictures were of my dad and uncle together. It brought such joy and sadness to my heart. Even though they are young, they can understand the heaviness of the situation.
By 3pm, I was on the road. It gave me time to cry by myself, reflect on the many precious memories with him, and to pray. Prayer for comfort, peace, and for my uncle to be pain-free. I met my sister at her house and my brother-in-law drove us up to the hospice center. My mom had warned me that he was no longer able to verbally communicate, but nothing can prepare you to see someone you love so dearly be in that condition. He had lost a lot of weight since the last time I had seen him. He mostly had his eyes closed, but there were times when he would open them up and we tried let him see us. He would squeeze our hands and even though I knew he couldn't talk, he was talking through non-verbals. His 4 daughters were there along with his 2nd wife. I hadn't seen any of them in years and it was wonderful to be able to hug them and talk to them in person. After a few hours, we decided to go to my sister's house to get some rest. It was a pretty sleepless night.
The next morning I waited at my parents' house for my dad's sister to arrive. I was going to drive her up to the hospice center. My dad and mom had already left to go see him. While I was waiting, I looked at pictures of my dad and his brother. They had made some sort of smoker together and smoked a pig. These pictures showed them laughing and having an incredible time together. A true brotherly bond. I couldn't help but cry for my dad because he would no longer be able to make such amazing memories with his only brother. Their parents passed away years ago and my dad isn't very close to his sister so I couldn't imagine the hole in his heart this death would bring. After the cancer diagnosis, my dad and uncle really reconnected; they would call each other almost every day and talk for a long time. They would see each other regularly, too. They were best buds.
Once my aunt made it, I drove her to see her brother. I tried to warn her about what she was going to walk into. When we got there, he was less responsive with his hand squeezes. He was surrounded by family sharing some of their favorite memories and playing his favorite songs. I think most of us had a private moment with him to tell him what he meant to us and that it was ok for him to stop fighting. He deserved to not be in any more pain. There were times when his body would start to cool off and so we thought the end might be nearing, but my uncle is such a fighter that soon his temperature would rebound. His respirations were shallow and irregular and I would stop breathing for a moment if he didn't take a breath when I thought he should have. It was such an emotionally and physically exhausting day. Towards the evening, the hospice nurse thought that maybe he was holding out until no one was in the room. She advised us to say our final farewells and then wait in the family waiting room. Eventually, the doctor increased his pain meds, as well. But my uncle was not ready to go yet.
By 8:30pm, my dad was ready to go home. My mom had left a little earlier with my sister. I drove him home and then went up to my sister's house. That night I slept soundly. After showering the next morning, I made my way down to my parents' house. My dad hadn't heard any news and wasn't sure if he wanted to go back up there that day. I offered to call to get an update. His 2nd wife told me that he had some scary moments during the night, but his vitals were still stable. However, he looked worse than the day before and he was having more muscle spasms. She suggested that unless we felt that we needed to be there, then we might want to stay home since the day before was a great day with the family (unless you've been in this type of situation, it may be hard to understand that it could be "great", but it was wonderful to share all the memories together). My dad decided against going up and he requested that I go back home and my sister take care of her family. Before I left KC, my aunt, cousin, and grandparents came by to offer support and some hugs.
On Monday, my dad decided to go up to see him again. My mom accompanied him and my dad is so glad that he did. After Bible study that night, I heard the news that he passed away that evening. He was finally at peace. While it was expected, it doesn't ease the sorrow. There are 4 girls without their daddy, 16 grandkiddos without a grandpa, a brother without his brother, and so on.
The service was on Saturday, October 29th. James, the kiddos, and I were able to make it. This was the kiddos' first experience with death. My uncle requested to be cremated so the funeral home was filled with pictures of him along with Native American memorabilia because he was always proud of his heritage. The service was beautiful. There was a wonderful tribute written about him and they played a few of his favorite songs. He was an Army veteran and so the family was presented with a flag along with a 21 gun salute and "Taps" being played. Nothing brings tears faster than hearing that song; it reminds me of my grandpa's funeral and it represents the absolute finality of it.
My uncle made an impression on everyone he met. He was super ornery, but cared deeply about those he loved. He was generous and quite the story-teller. I loved how he called my dad by his first and middle name. Growing up, we had to make him his own pitcher of sweet, iced tea every time he came over. The last time he saw my kiddos was a few years ago when we came up for Easter. Even though he had grandkids to buy for, he still bought 3 huge Easter baskets for my kiddos. He loved to give all that he had. When I talked to him on the phone, he would call me "Baby Doll". While I'm glad that he no longer is in pain, it still hurts. He was so young to die...only 58 years old. I am so very proud to have known him and to have him as part of my family. Love you forever, Uncle JR.
Floyd "JR" Cushenbery passed away on October 24, 2011 after a courageous battle with cancer. JR was born on December 15, 1952, in Lawrence, KS., to parents, Mary Ann and Floyd S. Cushenbery, Sr., who have preceded him in death. JR proudly served his country in the U.S. Army for 6 years. He was a member of the American Legion Tirey J. Ford Post 21, and enjoyed many friends and good times there. JR worked hard for the U.S. Postal Service for 32 years, and retired in September, 2008. He liked to fish, go boating, and target practice. But what JR liked most, was to spend time with family and friends. He loved to joke around, tease people with a sparkle in his eyes, and make everyone laugh. JR was extremely proud of his Cherokee Indian heritage and we know he is now in the happy hunting ground. He will be dearly missed by his four daughters, Molly Chavez and husband William, Pam Razo and husband Bobby, Crystal Ledesma and husband John, and Kim Carr and partner Marvin Burchett. JR also leaves behind his brother Terry Cushenbery and Janice, sister Kay Cushenbery and 16 grandchildren, along with Donovan Carr, who preceded him in death, and many friends and family. Visitation is at 11 a.m., with services at 12 p.m., on Saturday, October 29, at Highland Park Funeral Home, 4100 State Ave., Kansas City, KS. May he finally be pain free and at peace with God in heaven. No one can take JR's place -- God bless him and his generous heart.
By late Friday morning, it was decided that my uncle would be moved to a hospice center and he would be made as comfortable as possible. He was not expected to make it through the weekend. My mom called me to let me know this. I knew I had to go up to say goodbye. I called James at work to let him know and he said that he would leave whenever I needed him to. After getting off the phone with him, I started crying. Malachi was home from school that day and noticed me crying. I explained to him and Isaiah what was going on. They immediately wanted to do something for their Papa since Uncle JR was his only brother and they knew he would be sad. They both decided to draw pictures for both my dad and my uncle. The pictures were of my dad and uncle together. It brought such joy and sadness to my heart. Even though they are young, they can understand the heaviness of the situation.
By 3pm, I was on the road. It gave me time to cry by myself, reflect on the many precious memories with him, and to pray. Prayer for comfort, peace, and for my uncle to be pain-free. I met my sister at her house and my brother-in-law drove us up to the hospice center. My mom had warned me that he was no longer able to verbally communicate, but nothing can prepare you to see someone you love so dearly be in that condition. He had lost a lot of weight since the last time I had seen him. He mostly had his eyes closed, but there were times when he would open them up and we tried let him see us. He would squeeze our hands and even though I knew he couldn't talk, he was talking through non-verbals. His 4 daughters were there along with his 2nd wife. I hadn't seen any of them in years and it was wonderful to be able to hug them and talk to them in person. After a few hours, we decided to go to my sister's house to get some rest. It was a pretty sleepless night.
The next morning I waited at my parents' house for my dad's sister to arrive. I was going to drive her up to the hospice center. My dad and mom had already left to go see him. While I was waiting, I looked at pictures of my dad and his brother. They had made some sort of smoker together and smoked a pig. These pictures showed them laughing and having an incredible time together. A true brotherly bond. I couldn't help but cry for my dad because he would no longer be able to make such amazing memories with his only brother. Their parents passed away years ago and my dad isn't very close to his sister so I couldn't imagine the hole in his heart this death would bring. After the cancer diagnosis, my dad and uncle really reconnected; they would call each other almost every day and talk for a long time. They would see each other regularly, too. They were best buds.
Once my aunt made it, I drove her to see her brother. I tried to warn her about what she was going to walk into. When we got there, he was less responsive with his hand squeezes. He was surrounded by family sharing some of their favorite memories and playing his favorite songs. I think most of us had a private moment with him to tell him what he meant to us and that it was ok for him to stop fighting. He deserved to not be in any more pain. There were times when his body would start to cool off and so we thought the end might be nearing, but my uncle is such a fighter that soon his temperature would rebound. His respirations were shallow and irregular and I would stop breathing for a moment if he didn't take a breath when I thought he should have. It was such an emotionally and physically exhausting day. Towards the evening, the hospice nurse thought that maybe he was holding out until no one was in the room. She advised us to say our final farewells and then wait in the family waiting room. Eventually, the doctor increased his pain meds, as well. But my uncle was not ready to go yet.
By 8:30pm, my dad was ready to go home. My mom had left a little earlier with my sister. I drove him home and then went up to my sister's house. That night I slept soundly. After showering the next morning, I made my way down to my parents' house. My dad hadn't heard any news and wasn't sure if he wanted to go back up there that day. I offered to call to get an update. His 2nd wife told me that he had some scary moments during the night, but his vitals were still stable. However, he looked worse than the day before and he was having more muscle spasms. She suggested that unless we felt that we needed to be there, then we might want to stay home since the day before was a great day with the family (unless you've been in this type of situation, it may be hard to understand that it could be "great", but it was wonderful to share all the memories together). My dad decided against going up and he requested that I go back home and my sister take care of her family. Before I left KC, my aunt, cousin, and grandparents came by to offer support and some hugs.
On Monday, my dad decided to go up to see him again. My mom accompanied him and my dad is so glad that he did. After Bible study that night, I heard the news that he passed away that evening. He was finally at peace. While it was expected, it doesn't ease the sorrow. There are 4 girls without their daddy, 16 grandkiddos without a grandpa, a brother without his brother, and so on.
The service was on Saturday, October 29th. James, the kiddos, and I were able to make it. This was the kiddos' first experience with death. My uncle requested to be cremated so the funeral home was filled with pictures of him along with Native American memorabilia because he was always proud of his heritage. The service was beautiful. There was a wonderful tribute written about him and they played a few of his favorite songs. He was an Army veteran and so the family was presented with a flag along with a 21 gun salute and "Taps" being played. Nothing brings tears faster than hearing that song; it reminds me of my grandpa's funeral and it represents the absolute finality of it.
My uncle made an impression on everyone he met. He was super ornery, but cared deeply about those he loved. He was generous and quite the story-teller. I loved how he called my dad by his first and middle name. Growing up, we had to make him his own pitcher of sweet, iced tea every time he came over. The last time he saw my kiddos was a few years ago when we came up for Easter. Even though he had grandkids to buy for, he still bought 3 huge Easter baskets for my kiddos. He loved to give all that he had. When I talked to him on the phone, he would call me "Baby Doll". While I'm glad that he no longer is in pain, it still hurts. He was so young to die...only 58 years old. I am so very proud to have known him and to have him as part of my family. Love you forever, Uncle JR.
Floyd "JR" Cushenbery passed away on October 24, 2011 after a courageous battle with cancer. JR was born on December 15, 1952, in Lawrence, KS., to parents, Mary Ann and Floyd S. Cushenbery, Sr., who have preceded him in death. JR proudly served his country in the U.S. Army for 6 years. He was a member of the American Legion Tirey J. Ford Post 21, and enjoyed many friends and good times there. JR worked hard for the U.S. Postal Service for 32 years, and retired in September, 2008. He liked to fish, go boating, and target practice. But what JR liked most, was to spend time with family and friends. He loved to joke around, tease people with a sparkle in his eyes, and make everyone laugh. JR was extremely proud of his Cherokee Indian heritage and we know he is now in the happy hunting ground. He will be dearly missed by his four daughters, Molly Chavez and husband William, Pam Razo and husband Bobby, Crystal Ledesma and husband John, and Kim Carr and partner Marvin Burchett. JR also leaves behind his brother Terry Cushenbery and Janice, sister Kay Cushenbery and 16 grandchildren, along with Donovan Carr, who preceded him in death, and many friends and family. Visitation is at 11 a.m., with services at 12 p.m., on Saturday, October 29, at Highland Park Funeral Home, 4100 State Ave., Kansas City, KS. May he finally be pain free and at peace with God in heaven. No one can take JR's place -- God bless him and his generous heart. Long Time No Blog
My sincerest apologies for my absence from the blog. Three weeks ago I received the news that my uncle (my dad's older brother) was not expected to live longer than a few days. He had been battling colon cancer for 6 years and it finally was at a point where there wasn't any other options available. I wanted to write a post about this and I still will. I kept sitting down to write out the experience, but I just couldn't. Enough time has passed to where I think I can post about it. But, I thought I would start out on a happier note and bring everyone up to speed on our life.
The family made the annual trip to the pumpkin patch near our home. I, unfortunately, had to miss it because I was up in KC with my family saying goodbye to my uncle. James' parents and younger brother along with his fiancé drove down for the day. I'm trying to upload the pictures from my mother-in-law. Once I succeed, I will post them!
Malachi's class had a Halloween party the Friday before Halloween. He was able to dress up in his Darth Vader costume. I was able to go to his party. They played games and ate yummy cupcakes. It was also an early-release day so he came home with me at the conclusion of the party. Here is a picture of him at his desk:
James had his med school interview at KU in Wichita on Halloween. (still waiting to hear how that went.) Malachi was out of school that day so we had a low-key morning and then prepped for the night while waiting for James to get home. Our town's Main Street closes down and the business hand out candy to the trick or treaters. The kiddos always enjoy walking around the town collecting candy. Isaiah was equally as excited to see everyone's costumes as he was to get candy. This year Samara was not shy to say "Trick or Treat" and she was pumped about her loot. After making it to the businesses, we headed over to the church where they used to go to daycare at. The church always has a carnival, trunk or treats, and bounce houses. Each kiddo won a cake at the cake walk. We enjoyed eating nachos and hot dogs there, too. The evening ended with us going around to our neighbors. All in all it was a very successful and fun evening! Here is a picture of them before heading out:
This past weekend we attended a Fall Festival hosted by a friend from my Monday night Bible study. They live in the country and had plenty of space for the crowd. There were 2 bounce houses, a pony named Sweet Potato that Isaiah and Samara rode on. After a yummy potluck dinner, the kiddos and I rode on an antique fire truck. Kiddos piled in the back of it (adults were there, too!) and they took about a 10 minute ride in it. What a blast! A few evenings later a friend told me that while her son and Malachi were in the bounce house, they had a pretty serious conversation about a girl at school wanting to kiss Malachi and that he needed to run away from her so that wouldn't happen. Oh the "man talks" that occur in bounce houses ;-)
I think that's about all that's been going on in our world. I hope you all are healthy, staying warm, and enjoying this fall!!!
The family made the annual trip to the pumpkin patch near our home. I, unfortunately, had to miss it because I was up in KC with my family saying goodbye to my uncle. James' parents and younger brother along with his fiancé drove down for the day. I'm trying to upload the pictures from my mother-in-law. Once I succeed, I will post them!
Malachi's class had a Halloween party the Friday before Halloween. He was able to dress up in his Darth Vader costume. I was able to go to his party. They played games and ate yummy cupcakes. It was also an early-release day so he came home with me at the conclusion of the party. Here is a picture of him at his desk:
I think that's about all that's been going on in our world. I hope you all are healthy, staying warm, and enjoying this fall!!!
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Catch Up
Ok, I thought I would catch everyone up on our life:
*I ran my 5K. I really enjoyed it and hope to run another one soon.
*James' older brother received a Grand Champ award for his BBQ at a competition in Russell (same day I ran the race). CONGRATS!
*James is on the wait list at the med school in Chicago. My patience is growing.
*My sister is having another little girl and we went to her baby shower this past Saturday. YAY for babies =)
*Last Sunday James' little brother proposed to his girlfriend and surprised her with an engagement party that James and Samara were able to attend. So happy for them!
*James was able to find a replacement window for the Expedition for $50. Now we're just waiting for it to be shipped to us and then we'll be back in business.
Hope your fall weather is as wonderful as ours is down here. LOVIN' IT!!!
*I ran my 5K. I really enjoyed it and hope to run another one soon.
*James' older brother received a Grand Champ award for his BBQ at a competition in Russell (same day I ran the race). CONGRATS!
*James is on the wait list at the med school in Chicago. My patience is growing.
*My sister is having another little girl and we went to her baby shower this past Saturday. YAY for babies =)
*Last Sunday James' little brother proposed to his girlfriend and surprised her with an engagement party that James and Samara were able to attend. So happy for them!
*James was able to find a replacement window for the Expedition for $50. Now we're just waiting for it to be shipped to us and then we'll be back in business.
Hope your fall weather is as wonderful as ours is down here. LOVIN' IT!!!
Thursday, October 6, 2011
For Reals???
Today started out like a typical Thursday. Breakfast, teeth brushed, kiddos dressed and ready to take Malachi to school. But funny how a "typical" day can so easily change. We were getting ready to get everyone in the Expedition for the short drive to the school. The Expedition has a keyless entry so I went to the driver's door to put in the code and unlock the doors so everyone could get in their seats. Before I opened the driver's door, I noticed something very unsettling. The driver's window looked like crackled glass. And then I saw it. A small hole in the window. Looked just like a BB bullet hole. I glanced down the street and saw our neighbor behind us (the one who lets his dog poop in everyone's yard, yeah, that neighbor). He, too, was looking at his driver's side window. I went down to ask him if his window was broken. He said "yes" and he initially thought that it was an accident, but upon discovering that my window was shot at, it was apparent that it was no accident.
I quickly called James to have him come home so we could get Malachi to school and then wait for the police to come. On my way to take Malachi, I noticed another SUV down the street with its window shattered. It struck me as odd because at least on our street, the perpetrators targeted the higher profile vehicles and left the cars and smaller trucks alone. Upon returning from the school, the police officer arrived. He said that we were the 10th call that morning who had a BB hole in their window. They were quite busy investigating all of the incidents. Later I heard from a friend that one of her friends lives a few blocks from me and her front door had been shot at with a BB gun. How scary!
Obviously I could never be a criminal because I couldn't imagine causing damage to personal property especially to people I do not know. I'm so ready to move to a place where I can park my car in the garage and not have to worry about such things (well unless they break into the garage and then that's another story, but for now, I'll dream of my parking spot in a garage!)
James is investigating window replacement options and hopefully we can get it replaced within the next few days because having only 1 functional car at the moment s-u-c-k-s and it's only been a few hours! So if you hear of anyone from our town bragging about shooting out car windows, let me at 'em!!!
I quickly called James to have him come home so we could get Malachi to school and then wait for the police to come. On my way to take Malachi, I noticed another SUV down the street with its window shattered. It struck me as odd because at least on our street, the perpetrators targeted the higher profile vehicles and left the cars and smaller trucks alone. Upon returning from the school, the police officer arrived. He said that we were the 10th call that morning who had a BB hole in their window. They were quite busy investigating all of the incidents. Later I heard from a friend that one of her friends lives a few blocks from me and her front door had been shot at with a BB gun. How scary!
Obviously I could never be a criminal because I couldn't imagine causing damage to personal property especially to people I do not know. I'm so ready to move to a place where I can park my car in the garage and not have to worry about such things (well unless they break into the garage and then that's another story, but for now, I'll dream of my parking spot in a garage!)
James is investigating window replacement options and hopefully we can get it replaced within the next few days because having only 1 functional car at the moment s-u-c-k-s and it's only been a few hours! So if you hear of anyone from our town bragging about shooting out car windows, let me at 'em!!!
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Late Nights
For the past 2 years, I have been going to a Monday night women's Bible study. There's around 10 or so ladies who attend and it's hosted in one of their homes. It's been a wonderful time of learning, reflection, laughter and of course, some tears. We've seen each other struggle, overcome, and grow.
Last year a lady from MOPS started to come. I'll call her "C". She had recently moved to the area and so we were thrilled that she started to come. I don't remember exactly how it started, but we would talk for a long time beside our cars after the Bible study ended. We talked about kiddos, life, recipes, bargains, etc. We found we had a lot in common. And on a few occasions, when Bible study needed to be canceled for that week, "C" and I would still get together. We needed that "girl time".
Unfortunately, she needed to sit out during the current study due to a conflicting schedule. So for the past 2 weeks we have met up with each other after I was finished with that week's lesson. Last week we met up at Walmart because we both needed to pick up a few items. This week we met for coffee and then ended up at Walmart for her to get a few things. Both times we talked and talked until it was WAY late (I got home last night around 12:30am!) I may be dragging the next morning, but it's so worth it =)
Last year a lady from MOPS started to come. I'll call her "C". She had recently moved to the area and so we were thrilled that she started to come. I don't remember exactly how it started, but we would talk for a long time beside our cars after the Bible study ended. We talked about kiddos, life, recipes, bargains, etc. We found we had a lot in common. And on a few occasions, when Bible study needed to be canceled for that week, "C" and I would still get together. We needed that "girl time".
Unfortunately, she needed to sit out during the current study due to a conflicting schedule. So for the past 2 weeks we have met up with each other after I was finished with that week's lesson. Last week we met up at Walmart because we both needed to pick up a few items. This week we met for coffee and then ended up at Walmart for her to get a few things. Both times we talked and talked until it was WAY late (I got home last night around 12:30am!) I may be dragging the next morning, but it's so worth it =)
Friday, September 16, 2011
You Never Want to Hear...
"I got sent to the principle's office."
But that's what greeted me when I picked up Malachi this afternoon. My heart sank and he was already tearing up without even telling me what happened. I held my composure and got in the car and calmly asked what happened. He said that his friend "P" has a broken collarbone. A girl was trying to take "P's" arm-sling off. Malachi wanted to protect his friend so he tried to get the girl away from "P", but accidentally hit the girl's face with his elbow. He told her sorry, but was sent to the principle's office. He said that he was so scared to be in the office because he thought the principle would spank him. (those days of spanking in schools are long gone, but he didn't know that!) I knew that there was probably an explanation in his folder so when I parked the car at home I opened up to read the note. It said that he had accidentally hit the girl in the face; he felt very bad about it and was sent to the office to figure things out. But he was not in trouble. Whew! He came away with another "Green Day". You have no idea what a relief this was.
You see tonight we had planned on taking Malachi (and the family) to McDonald's for a Happy Meal and time in the PlayPlace to celebrate a month of Green Days. We wanted to reward him for an awesome job at school. All Malachi had to do was get another "Green" today. Since Malachi was already feeling horrible about what happened the last thing I wanted to do was take away this special treat. He started whimpering when he asked if he still got to go to McDonald's. Yes, Malachi, yes you do.
We did talk about how he was a great friend wanting to protect the other boy. But in that circumstance, it would be best to tell the teacher or another adult about what's going on so that this accident wouldn't happen. We also talked about how he felt being sent to the office and just think how scared he would have been if he had done something deliberately. I think this incident put the fear of the principle in him! Life lessons are so hard sometimes, aren't they?
Congrats Malachi on a month of "Green Days"! Let's go celebrate!!!!
But that's what greeted me when I picked up Malachi this afternoon. My heart sank and he was already tearing up without even telling me what happened. I held my composure and got in the car and calmly asked what happened. He said that his friend "P" has a broken collarbone. A girl was trying to take "P's" arm-sling off. Malachi wanted to protect his friend so he tried to get the girl away from "P", but accidentally hit the girl's face with his elbow. He told her sorry, but was sent to the principle's office. He said that he was so scared to be in the office because he thought the principle would spank him. (those days of spanking in schools are long gone, but he didn't know that!) I knew that there was probably an explanation in his folder so when I parked the car at home I opened up to read the note. It said that he had accidentally hit the girl in the face; he felt very bad about it and was sent to the office to figure things out. But he was not in trouble. Whew! He came away with another "Green Day". You have no idea what a relief this was.
You see tonight we had planned on taking Malachi (and the family) to McDonald's for a Happy Meal and time in the PlayPlace to celebrate a month of Green Days. We wanted to reward him for an awesome job at school. All Malachi had to do was get another "Green" today. Since Malachi was already feeling horrible about what happened the last thing I wanted to do was take away this special treat. He started whimpering when he asked if he still got to go to McDonald's. Yes, Malachi, yes you do.
We did talk about how he was a great friend wanting to protect the other boy. But in that circumstance, it would be best to tell the teacher or another adult about what's going on so that this accident wouldn't happen. We also talked about how he felt being sent to the office and just think how scared he would have been if he had done something deliberately. I think this incident put the fear of the principle in him! Life lessons are so hard sometimes, aren't they?
Congrats Malachi on a month of "Green Days"! Let's go celebrate!!!!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
I Will Always Remember
Laying on my bed in my freshman dorm room.
A suite-mate rushed in to say 1 of the towers at the World Trade Center was on fire.
Immediately turned on the TV to see the confusion and had disbelief of my own.
Saw the 2nd airplane fly into the 2nd tower.
Sat in horror of what I just witnessed.
Cried.
Called my mom.
Shocked to see the Pentagon on fire.
Gasped when both towers collapsed.
Heartbroken to hear about the crash of Flight 93.
Attended a candlelight vigil at the university's campus.
Those memories and feelings will haunt me for the rest of my life. We all have our own version of that day. It's one of those events that people will always remember where they were, what they were doing.
The previous summer I had been right inside the lobby of the WTC. I was with a high school group of foreign exchange students touring the East Coast. It was a hot New York day so we went inside to sit down and cool off. And in 1994, a year after the first WTC bombing, I took the elevator with my family to the top floor. We have pictures of us looking down at the streets over a hundred stories below. I remember thinking then just how horrible it would be to fall from way up high. Some people, though, on 9/11/01 made that choice.
How strange it felt to bear witness to a city enduring such atrocities. A city I truly loved. Since 2001, I have been back to NYC twice. There is something about the City that I can't get enough of. The energy. The history. The uniqueness. But, I have not gone to Ground Zero. The first time back was the summer of 2002. The feelings of 9/11 were too raw and I wanted to celebrate being in the City again. While taking the subway, the sign for the "World Trade Center" was still hanging up. I remember tearing up. It just didn't seem possible that those 2 iconic towers were no more.
The second trip was to celebrate our 5 year wedding anniversary. We were only there for a few days. It was James' first trip to the City. I would have went then, but since we were short on time, we decided against it. We did drive by, though, while on our way to the Staten Island Ferry. I saw a glimpse and it brought me back to that fateful day.
Someday, once the memorial is opened, I plan on going back and devote a day to touring it and paying my respects. I know that it will be an emotional day. It will be a painful day.
But for now, I will remember the 2,996 lives lost on that day...10 years ago today.
A suite-mate rushed in to say 1 of the towers at the World Trade Center was on fire.
Immediately turned on the TV to see the confusion and had disbelief of my own.
Saw the 2nd airplane fly into the 2nd tower.
Sat in horror of what I just witnessed.
Cried.
Called my mom.
Shocked to see the Pentagon on fire.
Gasped when both towers collapsed.
Heartbroken to hear about the crash of Flight 93.
Attended a candlelight vigil at the university's campus.
Those memories and feelings will haunt me for the rest of my life. We all have our own version of that day. It's one of those events that people will always remember where they were, what they were doing.
The previous summer I had been right inside the lobby of the WTC. I was with a high school group of foreign exchange students touring the East Coast. It was a hot New York day so we went inside to sit down and cool off. And in 1994, a year after the first WTC bombing, I took the elevator with my family to the top floor. We have pictures of us looking down at the streets over a hundred stories below. I remember thinking then just how horrible it would be to fall from way up high. Some people, though, on 9/11/01 made that choice.
How strange it felt to bear witness to a city enduring such atrocities. A city I truly loved. Since 2001, I have been back to NYC twice. There is something about the City that I can't get enough of. The energy. The history. The uniqueness. But, I have not gone to Ground Zero. The first time back was the summer of 2002. The feelings of 9/11 were too raw and I wanted to celebrate being in the City again. While taking the subway, the sign for the "World Trade Center" was still hanging up. I remember tearing up. It just didn't seem possible that those 2 iconic towers were no more.
The second trip was to celebrate our 5 year wedding anniversary. We were only there for a few days. It was James' first trip to the City. I would have went then, but since we were short on time, we decided against it. We did drive by, though, while on our way to the Staten Island Ferry. I saw a glimpse and it brought me back to that fateful day.
Someday, once the memorial is opened, I plan on going back and devote a day to touring it and paying my respects. I know that it will be an emotional day. It will be a painful day.
But for now, I will remember the 2,996 lives lost on that day...10 years ago today.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Samara's Birth Story
Yesterday was Samara's 3rd birthday. We had a wonderful time with family (pics and a blog post about the party will be coming in a few days). Since I started the blog after my kiddos were born, I wanted to take a step back in time to tell their story. Malachi's and Isaiah's stories will be on their next birthday.
It was the end of January 2008. On a Sunday afternoon, I told James that my "annual" exam was coming up in a few months and I wanted to discuss with my OB/GYN about having a tubal ligation. We had the 2 boys and I felt that our "biological" family was complete. James and I had visited Russia in 2004. While there, we visited an orphanage and we had always thought that we would like to have 2 kids of our own and then adopt from there. So in our minds, it made sense to start looking into that option.
The following Sunday afternoon it hit me. I was late if you know what I mean. There must be a mistake. I rushed to Walmart. I didn't want to waste money on a twin-pack pregnancy test because I was sure that it would be negative. So I bought the single test and came home. Almost immediately the 2 lines appeared. No, that can't be! So I ran out the door and went to Dillon's. This time spending the extra money for a double-pack. Came back home. Confirmed 2 more times that I was indeed prego. I was in absolute shock. I remember spending the rest of the afternoon on the couch crying. Malachi came up and in his little toddler voice asked me what was wrong. You see, at that time, Malachi had just turned 2 and Isaiah had just turned 1. By the time of the 3rd baby's birth, we would have 3 kiddos under the age of 3! That thought was so overwhelming.
Because I was on birth control at the time, the doctor wanted a sonogram right away to see how far along I was measuring. So within a few days of finding out the news, I was able to see the 4-chamber heart beating on the machine. No matter how I felt before the sonogram, I couldn't help but feel love and excitement afterward. With this pregnancy, I felt great. I was tired, but no nausea/sickness.
I was hopeful that this would be our little girl. It had to be. I had dodged the bullet twice to avoid using the boy name James loved. Solomon. I just couldn't bring myself to call our son that. While pregnant with Isaiah, I struck a deal with James that if we had another boy, then that one would be "Solomon". I did that because I was already thinking I was finished with being pregnant. Oh stupid me!
With the boys, we waited until birth to find out what we were having. This time around, though, I desperately needed to know because I didn't want months of debating over a boy's name. When it was time to find out what we were having, it wasn't quite as much fun as waiting. But I was thankful that I could no longer dread a boy's name. I loved watching our little girl be active inside my belly. All the measurements came back normal, and we noticed she had some big feet (just like her daddy!)
My parents threw us a baby shower and my aunt hosted it at her house. Instead of just ladies being invited, it was for families/spouses to come, too. It was a great day filled with everyone creating designs/sayings on burp clothes, eating, opening up wonderful PINK gifts, and swimming. Perfect way to celebrate our little Samara.
As you will find out when I blog about the boys' births, my body handles pregnancy a little differently than a lot of other women. Around Week 27/28, I started having Braxton Hicks (BH) contractions. By around Week 32, I had already dropped. I was getting nervous that she may come early. At my Week 34 OB appt, I was having such intense BH contractions, I wanted to be checked. My doc complied and I was 50% effaced and dilated to a 1. Given the fact that the boys came early, he went ahead and did my Group B Strep test and I made my appt for my 36 week check.
I never made it to that appt, though. It was Labor Day weekend and I was seriously uncomfortable. She was sitting so low and I was waddling like none other. I returned to work that Tuesday, Sept 2nd. I was having horrible contractions; I thought they were just BH, but given the fact I had to have Pitocin with the boys, I didn't quite know what to expect with just natural contractions. I was having trouble walking long distances at work, but I wasn't about to get checked out at the hospital until my water broke.
The next morning, Wednesday, Sept. 3rd, I got up at 6:30am like any other day. While getting ready for work, I had to stop what I was doing every few minutes, bend over and breathe through a contraction. Because of this, I was running late to work. I left a message with the manager to let him know I was having some strong contractions, but I would be there soon. I got in my car and was on my way out of town when I realized that I wasn't sure if I could drive the 45 minutes there. I turned around and made it home. I barely was able to walk upstairs. I took some Tylenol (which I never take) because I knew that if I went to the hospital, that would be the first thing they would ask. James was getting the boys ready for daycare and I laid down on the bed. I told him I was pretty sure that we needed to get to the hospital. At that point, I didn't want to get out of bed so he dropped the boys off while I stayed at home. I called my mom to tell her I was pretty sure I was in active labor. She immediately started the process of preparing to come down.
James got home around 8:00am. It took me a few minutes to make it to the truck. He was going to run in and grab his laptop because he thought it would take awhile before Samara's birth. I knew differently. I had already had the mood change where I no longer was really talking. I started to feel the urge to push. The hospital that I supposed to deliver at was in Wichita. My maternal instincts knew better. I told James that we needed to go to our local hospital.
At 8:15am, James pulled up to the front door and asked if I needed a wheelchair. Uh, yes, this mama was no longer able to really walk. He wheeled me in and went to park the truck. I remember the front foyer was packed because of course there had to be a book fair that day and James parked me right in the middle of it! Here I was trying not to push and breathe through the contractions and trying to blend into the crowd. A darling, elderly volunteer came over to me to see if I could wait a few minutes for Registration to get all of my information. I couldn't speak so I looked at her and tried to nod. Fortunately, a lady in a business suit took one look at me and rushed me into the ER so I could get checked out. She must have known the look of a desperate woman!
The nurses in the ER seemed to keep asking me the same questions. How far along are you? When did the contractions start? How many children do you have? How long did you labor with them? I finally got to the point where I stopped answering. I couldn't talk anymore. They had called up for an OB nurse to get me. But first, I had to stop by Registration. The lady at the desk quickly realized that I needed to get out of there FAST. She kept paging for the nurse to come. I'm sure it only took a few minutes, but it felt like forever.
When the OB nurse finally came, her breath about made me throw up. Coffee breath while in active labor just didn't settle well with me. She wheeled me into a "labor" room, gave me a gown to put on and a cup to pee in. I don't know how I made it into the bathroom to change and I attempted to open the cup, but I was scared that if I went pee then there was a good chance that Samara may come out in the toilet. I made it to the bed and the nurse came in to ask me the same questions the ER nurses did. James was answering them, but I interrupted to say that I felt the urge to push. The nurse said to just wait to push until they had me hooked up to the monitor, an IV in, and some vitals on me. All of a sudden, I said, "I feel a head down there!". The nurse immediately asked if she could check me. By all means, YES! And then she yelled, "I need a doctor in here right now!!!!" A doctor rushed in and they said that Samara was right there. Uh, yeah, I already knew that!
Because all of the "delivery" rooms were dirty, there was a whole team rushing around to prep the "labor" room for the arrival. At 8:59am (45 minutes after arriving at the hospital), and 2 pushes later, Samara Jayne came into this world. She was tiny (1 day shy of being 36 weeks). She weighed 5.11lb and was 18 1/2 inches long. The nurse tried to gather as much prenatal history on me while starting my IV and getting my vitals (after the birth!). Samara checked out wonderfully. I remember looking at her in the warmer and noticing on her left foot, her 4th toe was crooked. The strange things you remember. She was amazing, beautiful, darling, and most importantly, healthy.
With the craziness of the birth, I had forgotten to have James call my parents to tell them to come to our town's hospital and not Wichita. He hurriedly called them and initially got their answering machine. My parents were actually backing out of their garage when my mom heard the phone ring. She rushed inside to hear the great news. (At that time, they didn't have a cell phone so it would have been impossible to get a hold of them any other way!) I called work to let the manager know that I wouldn't be making it in.
We spent the rest of the day holding our beloved daughter. All wrapped up in pink. Cute as a button. Apparently, we were the talk of the hospital. I repeatedly apologized to the nurses and staff for creating such a busy morning for them. More than one of them said that I was made to have babies. Um, no thanks, I'm done =)
Within an hour after the birth, I was walking around, got my PJ's on from home, and felt much better than having a little person sitting on my cervix. Because of her fast delivery and small size, I had zero complications afterward and truly felt back to being myself...well...minus the pregnancy weight!
My parents and sister made it down around lunch time and "oohed" and "aahed" over her. James brought me lunch from our favorite, local coffee shop. In the evening, he brought the boys up to meet their sissy. Malachi wanted to hold her and kiss her. Isaiah wanted to climb on the bed, the chairs, etc. Not really interested in this new playmate.
After James went home with them for the night, Samara and I had a great night of watching HGTV together, cuddling, and me kissing her sweet cheeks. What a blessing she already was!
The following morning James' "Doctor Friend" came by and said that she was one of the prettiest white babies he's ever seen. Yeah, we make some pretty babies! Late that morning, we were discharged and began our crazy adventure as a family...
"Samara" is of Hebrew and Arabic origin and means Guardian or Protected by God.
It was the end of January 2008. On a Sunday afternoon, I told James that my "annual" exam was coming up in a few months and I wanted to discuss with my OB/GYN about having a tubal ligation. We had the 2 boys and I felt that our "biological" family was complete. James and I had visited Russia in 2004. While there, we visited an orphanage and we had always thought that we would like to have 2 kids of our own and then adopt from there. So in our minds, it made sense to start looking into that option.
The following Sunday afternoon it hit me. I was late if you know what I mean. There must be a mistake. I rushed to Walmart. I didn't want to waste money on a twin-pack pregnancy test because I was sure that it would be negative. So I bought the single test and came home. Almost immediately the 2 lines appeared. No, that can't be! So I ran out the door and went to Dillon's. This time spending the extra money for a double-pack. Came back home. Confirmed 2 more times that I was indeed prego. I was in absolute shock. I remember spending the rest of the afternoon on the couch crying. Malachi came up and in his little toddler voice asked me what was wrong. You see, at that time, Malachi had just turned 2 and Isaiah had just turned 1. By the time of the 3rd baby's birth, we would have 3 kiddos under the age of 3! That thought was so overwhelming.
Because I was on birth control at the time, the doctor wanted a sonogram right away to see how far along I was measuring. So within a few days of finding out the news, I was able to see the 4-chamber heart beating on the machine. No matter how I felt before the sonogram, I couldn't help but feel love and excitement afterward. With this pregnancy, I felt great. I was tired, but no nausea/sickness.
I was hopeful that this would be our little girl. It had to be. I had dodged the bullet twice to avoid using the boy name James loved. Solomon. I just couldn't bring myself to call our son that. While pregnant with Isaiah, I struck a deal with James that if we had another boy, then that one would be "Solomon". I did that because I was already thinking I was finished with being pregnant. Oh stupid me!
With the boys, we waited until birth to find out what we were having. This time around, though, I desperately needed to know because I didn't want months of debating over a boy's name. When it was time to find out what we were having, it wasn't quite as much fun as waiting. But I was thankful that I could no longer dread a boy's name. I loved watching our little girl be active inside my belly. All the measurements came back normal, and we noticed she had some big feet (just like her daddy!)
My parents threw us a baby shower and my aunt hosted it at her house. Instead of just ladies being invited, it was for families/spouses to come, too. It was a great day filled with everyone creating designs/sayings on burp clothes, eating, opening up wonderful PINK gifts, and swimming. Perfect way to celebrate our little Samara.
As you will find out when I blog about the boys' births, my body handles pregnancy a little differently than a lot of other women. Around Week 27/28, I started having Braxton Hicks (BH) contractions. By around Week 32, I had already dropped. I was getting nervous that she may come early. At my Week 34 OB appt, I was having such intense BH contractions, I wanted to be checked. My doc complied and I was 50% effaced and dilated to a 1. Given the fact that the boys came early, he went ahead and did my Group B Strep test and I made my appt for my 36 week check.
I never made it to that appt, though. It was Labor Day weekend and I was seriously uncomfortable. She was sitting so low and I was waddling like none other. I returned to work that Tuesday, Sept 2nd. I was having horrible contractions; I thought they were just BH, but given the fact I had to have Pitocin with the boys, I didn't quite know what to expect with just natural contractions. I was having trouble walking long distances at work, but I wasn't about to get checked out at the hospital until my water broke.
The next morning, Wednesday, Sept. 3rd, I got up at 6:30am like any other day. While getting ready for work, I had to stop what I was doing every few minutes, bend over and breathe through a contraction. Because of this, I was running late to work. I left a message with the manager to let him know I was having some strong contractions, but I would be there soon. I got in my car and was on my way out of town when I realized that I wasn't sure if I could drive the 45 minutes there. I turned around and made it home. I barely was able to walk upstairs. I took some Tylenol (which I never take) because I knew that if I went to the hospital, that would be the first thing they would ask. James was getting the boys ready for daycare and I laid down on the bed. I told him I was pretty sure that we needed to get to the hospital. At that point, I didn't want to get out of bed so he dropped the boys off while I stayed at home. I called my mom to tell her I was pretty sure I was in active labor. She immediately started the process of preparing to come down.
James got home around 8:00am. It took me a few minutes to make it to the truck. He was going to run in and grab his laptop because he thought it would take awhile before Samara's birth. I knew differently. I had already had the mood change where I no longer was really talking. I started to feel the urge to push. The hospital that I supposed to deliver at was in Wichita. My maternal instincts knew better. I told James that we needed to go to our local hospital.
At 8:15am, James pulled up to the front door and asked if I needed a wheelchair. Uh, yes, this mama was no longer able to really walk. He wheeled me in and went to park the truck. I remember the front foyer was packed because of course there had to be a book fair that day and James parked me right in the middle of it! Here I was trying not to push and breathe through the contractions and trying to blend into the crowd. A darling, elderly volunteer came over to me to see if I could wait a few minutes for Registration to get all of my information. I couldn't speak so I looked at her and tried to nod. Fortunately, a lady in a business suit took one look at me and rushed me into the ER so I could get checked out. She must have known the look of a desperate woman!
The nurses in the ER seemed to keep asking me the same questions. How far along are you? When did the contractions start? How many children do you have? How long did you labor with them? I finally got to the point where I stopped answering. I couldn't talk anymore. They had called up for an OB nurse to get me. But first, I had to stop by Registration. The lady at the desk quickly realized that I needed to get out of there FAST. She kept paging for the nurse to come. I'm sure it only took a few minutes, but it felt like forever.
When the OB nurse finally came, her breath about made me throw up. Coffee breath while in active labor just didn't settle well with me. She wheeled me into a "labor" room, gave me a gown to put on and a cup to pee in. I don't know how I made it into the bathroom to change and I attempted to open the cup, but I was scared that if I went pee then there was a good chance that Samara may come out in the toilet. I made it to the bed and the nurse came in to ask me the same questions the ER nurses did. James was answering them, but I interrupted to say that I felt the urge to push. The nurse said to just wait to push until they had me hooked up to the monitor, an IV in, and some vitals on me. All of a sudden, I said, "I feel a head down there!". The nurse immediately asked if she could check me. By all means, YES! And then she yelled, "I need a doctor in here right now!!!!" A doctor rushed in and they said that Samara was right there. Uh, yeah, I already knew that!
Because all of the "delivery" rooms were dirty, there was a whole team rushing around to prep the "labor" room for the arrival. At 8:59am (45 minutes after arriving at the hospital), and 2 pushes later, Samara Jayne came into this world. She was tiny (1 day shy of being 36 weeks). She weighed 5.11lb and was 18 1/2 inches long. The nurse tried to gather as much prenatal history on me while starting my IV and getting my vitals (after the birth!). Samara checked out wonderfully. I remember looking at her in the warmer and noticing on her left foot, her 4th toe was crooked. The strange things you remember. She was amazing, beautiful, darling, and most importantly, healthy.
With the craziness of the birth, I had forgotten to have James call my parents to tell them to come to our town's hospital and not Wichita. He hurriedly called them and initially got their answering machine. My parents were actually backing out of their garage when my mom heard the phone ring. She rushed inside to hear the great news. (At that time, they didn't have a cell phone so it would have been impossible to get a hold of them any other way!) I called work to let the manager know that I wouldn't be making it in.
We spent the rest of the day holding our beloved daughter. All wrapped up in pink. Cute as a button. Apparently, we were the talk of the hospital. I repeatedly apologized to the nurses and staff for creating such a busy morning for them. More than one of them said that I was made to have babies. Um, no thanks, I'm done =)
Within an hour after the birth, I was walking around, got my PJ's on from home, and felt much better than having a little person sitting on my cervix. Because of her fast delivery and small size, I had zero complications afterward and truly felt back to being myself...well...minus the pregnancy weight!
My parents and sister made it down around lunch time and "oohed" and "aahed" over her. James brought me lunch from our favorite, local coffee shop. In the evening, he brought the boys up to meet their sissy. Malachi wanted to hold her and kiss her. Isaiah wanted to climb on the bed, the chairs, etc. Not really interested in this new playmate.
After James went home with them for the night, Samara and I had a great night of watching HGTV together, cuddling, and me kissing her sweet cheeks. What a blessing she already was!
The following morning James' "Doctor Friend" came by and said that she was one of the prettiest white babies he's ever seen. Yeah, we make some pretty babies! Late that morning, we were discharged and began our crazy adventure as a family...
"Samara" is of Hebrew and Arabic origin and means Guardian or Protected by God.
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| A few hours after birth |
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| Getting ready to leave in her preemie clothes Grammie and Papa gave her |
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| Samara at home |
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