Growing with Grace Part 2

I write these posts because as I grow in life experience the more I am impressed that we all have a lot more in common than we have differences. Each time I am inspired to write it is couched in the idea of what I wish I could have read for myself. There are so many biblical truths outlined in the Bible which are good to learn and study but we have a much easier time translating principles into application when we see those principles work through someone's life. As a naturally intellectual person I am drawn to Paul's dense theology but only once I have heard how those principles have affected someone else do they begin to move from my head into my heart. I think that's why Jesus spent a lot of time teaching through stories. 

What I would like to share is the ways I have misunderstood who God is and the many ways he has shown me grace and taught me about himself over my life. My goal is to write the things that could have helped me at a younger age so that maybe, by God's grace, someone else can learn from my mistakes and live a fuller, stronger, more confident life. Specifically, confidence in your relationship with God. Just in case someone jumps in thinking this is going to be a bunch of feel good stories and fluffy theology: believe on the Lord Jesus and you will be debt free, happily married with 2.5 kids, and have a house in the 'burbs. Sorry, I don't have many of those. Most of the time they are traumatic and the spiritual lessons learned from them required a whole lot of separation by time and professional therapy.

And where better to start than at the beginning?

I was raised in a suburban home with as much love as possible by people who are human and broken. Thankfully, I was taught about the grace of God from a young age. My mom was a new Christian when I showed up stage right and she consistently brought me, my two sisters, and two brothers to church. We were a blended family, one sister and brother from my dad's first marriage and the three "younger" siblings from my parents. My father was a well respected auto mechanic and functional alcoholic with blackout anger issues and my oldest brother, Bobby, was already addicted to drugs, smoking, and alcohol years before I was born. My older sister, Kimberlie, came to live with us when I was three years old (or so? Someone correct me if I'm wrong?) because her mom had to serve jail time for drug possession with intent to distribute. Bobby mostly stayed with his stepfather but would bounce between that house, our house, and rehab. Kimberlie stayed with us until leaving for college. I remember being so confused and sad when she left for the big city but was just too young at the time to understand the process of growing up and flying the coop.

But my earliest memories are the nightmares. Some nightmares are a result of trauma, some don't have an explanation. Mine were the latter. They were intense, repetitive, and always a struggle between life and death. I would wake up in the middle of the night and cry for mommy and she would always come to comfort me. Until she didn't. 

No one remembers exactly how old I was, perhaps three, on that fateful night, but I distinctly remember that I had the "lost" dream again. The one where mom brought me to a business function and we sat in a small auditorium and listened to someone speak. Of course, I dreamed about playing while the adults droned on about adult stuff. Afterward we left the second floor of the venue via elevators. In the crush of people mom and I got separated. She went in the elevator but I couldn't get there in time before it closed. I was scared but knew I could ride the next one and catch up to her. I couldn't find her in the first floor lobby. I couldn't find her outside the building. I went back up to the empty auditorium then back down to the lobby. She was gone. Forever. She left without me and never came looking. At that point the dream would always fast forward and I would see myself as several years older, around 7, a lonely street urchin dressed in rags and dumpster diving for food. Then I would either wake up or it would start again from the beginning. 

Like usual I woke and cried for my mommy to come find me. I was lost and would never see her again. But she didn't come. I cried myself back to sleep and the dream repeated. I remember asking my mom in the morning why she didn't come when I called her and she said something to the effect of "I was really tired and it's time you become a big girl." (As an adult and a parent I realize it is unlikely she worded it this way but this is the impression I got at three years old and my mother has no memory of this exchange to refute it.) 

In my three year old mind what that meant to me was "I won't come find you in real life either because I'm too tired." I was not loved, cared for, cherished, valued. I'm still carrying around these scars despite forgiving my mother for inadvertently hurting me so deeply. It is still painful even to write about these memories 30 years later. So when God refers to himself as "father" or a "mother hen," my first feeling is not positive. I think it is true for everyone that your growing up experience greatly influences how you view God and authority figures. God calls himself a "good father" but so does my seriously flawed father. So what does a good father mean? I've had to learn that over time through a series of events that my heavenly father will in fact neither leave me nor forsake me. God knows just how sinful I am yet continues to love me. I have often rejected Him yet he continues to pursue me. All things my early father has failed to do.

I have wanted to die. God said "I am here with you."

I have cursed his name. He said "what else are you keeping hidden inside?"

I have committed the same sins over and over and over again. Still he says "I died so you could be clean." 

According to Merriam-Webster's dictionary grace is defined as "unmerited divine assistance given to humans for their regeneration or sanctification." The Sunday School answer I learned was "the unmerited favor of God."

So by definition the only one capable of grace is God himself. So how do we learn what grace is? We learn it directly from Him or indirectly through his followers in whom he lives. I have learned a lot about grace by hearing other people's stories and now I feel it is time to share mine.

Did your experiences with your parents color your understanding of God? For good or bad? Why? Do you have feelings of inadequacy, worthlessness, unworthiness? Do they affect how you relate to our heavenly father? 

Growing with Grace

"Mom! She's just playing the same notes over and over again!" My brother didn't often complain about my hours of practicing piano but that day I was determined to iron out the last kinks of the latest Handel sonata. It was so close. Almost perfect. After six hours I could play each section independently without mistakes but try and put the whole thing together and they popped up like so many weeds in my garden! I decided to rest my fingers and knew with satisfaction that tomorrow I would finally achieve my goal. It would be perfect. I could finally call myself a "pianist." 

If only I could counsel that little girl. If only she could understand that it wasn't about technical perfection. Music is about emotion, beauty, purpose, grace. It is for your own growth, benefit, and enjoyment primarily and others enjoyment secondarily. Life, too. But I was a goal oriented, highly motivated, competitive perfectionist. Those fluffy sentiments were too abstract for my concrete mind. But the reality is I made unachievable goals. There is no such thing as a perfect performance. There are beautiful works of art but artists are notoriously unsatisfied with their work. She said she wanted perfection. She really just wanted to be okay. To be loved. To be wanted. To be valued.

A few months after an unsatisfying but reportedly impressive performance I was told some of the worst news of my life. No more piano lessons. We couldn't afford them. 

But I knew it wasn't about not affording them. I had earned enough money on my own by that time to realize my family's finances were a problem with priorities, not cash flow. Once again, I was not a priority. 

I wasn't good enough.

Another link in the chain that bound me to perfectionism. I had believed in Jesus Christ as my savior as a seven-year-old, realizing that God is perfect and I couldn't live with him unless I had Jesus' help. It was the exact opposite of perfectionism but I've had so much internal bent and outside reinforcement that it's been a constant struggle to understand God's grace, his unmerited favor, throughout my adult life.

I hope that in sharing my journey you too can come to value God's grace and to allow Him to work his good purposes in your life. 

We can hope for perfection but not in this life. We can strive for holiness but not on our own. We can work toward justice but we will always be disappointed until God's grace brings us into his presence. But my greatest stumbling block was the belief that God would only "help those who help themselves." In Kyle Idleman's book "Grace is Greater" he wrote "We're able to receive God's grace only to the extent we're able to recognize our need for it." 

Oh how I need it. And the more I experience God's grace the more I realize I need. A lifetime of striving for perfection has hammered into my soul just how impossible that is. "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this not from yourselves, it is a gift of God-not by works, so that no one can boast." (Eph 2:8-9)

I've had an epiphany. 

What if God's grace and power works IN my depression, IN the loss of Judah, IN Shoshana's cancer rather than DESPITE it? That would completely change my perspective toward these life-altering, inexpressibly painful experiences. 

Grace is Greater, page 157: "[W]e're able to receive God's grace only to the extent we're able to recognize our need for it... But grace enables us to celebrate our weakness."

1 Corinthians 1:9

He will also keep you firm to the end, so that you will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful,who has called you into fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Romans 8:28-29

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.

1 Corinthians 4:17-18

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

And my life verse ever since college: 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24

May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blamelessat the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it.

Honestly, I've heard these things many times before but it has hit me in a new way today. 

Grace is greater

I've been slowly reading and digesting an excellent book called "Grace is Greater" by Kyle Idleman these last few months. Normally I'm a speed reader but when a book is this dense with truth that I want to remember and incorporate into my life it's more impactful to read one chapter at a time and digest for at least a week. I think about it, ruminate on it, and generally consider how it can apply to my life. 

So I'm going to do a little gratefulness exercise. 

In the chapter "grace is more peaceful than your disappointments" he talks about complaining and its relationship to grace. "When you strip it down, complaining is a refusal to trust God and acknowledge his grace on your life." Time has given me distance from the repeated traumas in my adult life and years of therapy had given me tools to manage the emotional impact but I have yet to practice identifying the ways God has used those traumas to show grace to me or to those around me. "(Gratitude) recognizes that God's grace is reason enough to be thankful in all circumstances."

I'm grateful that my oldest child was born early in our marriage (despite our best attempts to avoid that) because that forced me to seek professional help for my depression. I'm grateful that her pregnancy catalyzed leaving my first job at an organization I could no longer support. I'm also grateful that pregnancy prevented me from getting a job I wasn't excited about which left me no choice but to instead go to wound care school.

I'm so grateful to have Abigail with us. At 8 weeks gestation I started bleeding and the ultrasound showed an incomplete miscarriage. Miraculously, God allowed his grace to heal the damage and give us the second child we prayed for. I'm grateful that I can now identify with the pain and help comfort so many of my friends who have gone through with early miscarriages.

I'm grateful for Shoshana's cancer. Believe it or not. 

Early in Shoshana's treatment it occurred to me that I could use this as a "do over." You see, I didn't get treatment for my major depression until halfway through Shoshana's pregnancy and I wasn't able to recover soon enough to bond with her as an infant. As a toddler she even showed beginning signs of reactive attachment disorder. Thanks to her horrible cancer treatment I was able to bond with my daughter in totally new ways and she became so much more confident and emotionally stable.

Judah, perfect Judah. I'm so grateful I got to carry him for nine whole months. I got to sense his emotions and he reacted to mine. I'm so grateful that he loved hearing his sisters laugh and even bumped my tummy at them, trying to play. I'm grateful that he never experienced sin or this broken world. I'm grateful that he went straight from my loving, warm, protective tummy to the embracing arms of Jesus without pain or suffering. I'm grateful I get to meet him someday.

I'm grateful that my dad stayed throughout my childhood though he had several opportunities to leave. 

But most of all, I'm grateful that God sent his son to a sinful world to pay the consequences for my sin. Losing my own son has brought me new perspective on how much love that takes. I certainly don't love any person in this world enough to sacrifice my son for them! But that's how much God loves me!

How Does My Garden Grow?

My favorite time of year just started with my first cups of dirt: gardening season!

Once again, it has been a long time since I've posted but this time for a different reason. On August 10 we had just returned from Children's Hospital for a lab draw to rule out rheumatoid arthritis. Instead, I got a phone call that said "I'm so sorry to tell you this, but we found some problems with your daughter's blood. We need you to come back to the ER to be admitted for treatment." Since then many things have happened including respiratory failure, intubation, a tracheostomy, and constant pain. If you aren't already familiar with the story and are interested in reading about the ongoing saga then please visit our joint blog called "Shoshana: Leukemia."

In researching cancer and cancer treatment we have started Shoshana on a strictly vegan diet and the rest of us are transitioning to a vegetarian/vegan diet. Since I already have a garden it was natural to brainstorm of how to expand our harvest season to help supplement the massive amounts of vegetables we are going through. Step one was to build something to expand our growing season since so often seeds and seedlings rot in the ground with our wet, cold Springs and refuse to grow in the wet, cold Falls. First thing to do was build a relatively inexpensive cold cover: 

This is the PVC pipe frame. After that we'll drape it with the 6 mil. greenhouse film from our local hardware store and snap it on with special clips made just for this (the only thing I had to order online). When "all danger of frost" has passed in the PNW the growing conditions are still pretty bad for most vegetables and by the time actual summer has rolled around in mid July they are too small and stunted to mature by the end of summer. The sorts of veggies I would love to grow every year but are super difficult in this climate are tomatoes, peppers, some species of corn, and winter squash. With a mobile greenhouse cover the build is only a fraction of the cost of a full sized greenhouse with nearly all the benefits. Additionally, I bought a T-8 fluorescent grow lamp from a guy on Craigslist. Thanks, man, but I don't need your "How to grow medicine" book thrown in the package. I'm just growing boring vegetables and herbs. Herbs like basil, rosemary, parsley, and thyme. Thanks.

The other thing I need to expanding my grow season is to warm the soil. Buying a heating mat for sprouts is at least $40. But thanks to a DIY article online I built my own heating mats for only a couple of dollars. Take plastic bins (I had one in stock and bought two more), lay a layer of outdoor Christmas lights in the bottom, cover with sand or cat litter, and set seed trays on top. 

We will have to be careful to not allow the soil to get too warm or we'll dry them out or even scorch the seeds. We could invest in a soil thermometer or even a thermometer circuit breaker combo to both monitor and manage the soil temperature. But at this point I think we can manage by keeping a close eye on everything. We set them up in my parent's second story/attic so the lights are only turned on at night. Once they sprout I will set up the grow lamp and that could theoretically take the greens all the way to maturity though fluorescent lamps don't have the ideal light spectrum for mature growth. Either I could harden them off and put them in natural sunlight for the last part of their growth or set up a different grow lamp with the other side of the spectrum. Those run a couple of hundred dollars for the whole system and you have to take into account electricity bills and heat output. I found some bulbs for the system super cheap on Craigslist (again, the buying process was a little sketchy) but I figure I won't really need the rest of the system until this winter when I hope to continue growing certain veggies and herbs all year long.

Here are all my early veggie seeds planted and set on warmers (except for the spinach, kale, and onions which will do fine with the overnight temperatures indoors, even in the attic). 

From top down: Cabbage, broccoli, beets, spinach, onions, leeks, and kale. 

Next month will be more of those plus some other, warmer climate veggies. I'm so excited!

Kids Say the Darndest Things!

Shoshana: "I'm three. I need my birthday." Me: "Yes, in about three weeks you will be three and we will have a party with friends, and cake, and a pinata! Do you remember the pinata last year?" "YES!" "Do you remember what comes out of a pinata?" Pause. Wrinkling her nose "... spiders?"

"But I want to stay with Amanda!" (crying) "But she is not your mommy. You need to come home with mommy and daddy." "Why?" "Because we are your parents and we are supposed to take care of you." "Why?" "Because God gave you to us." "Why?" "I don't know. He made that decision." "Oh."

"Good morning sunshine." (in the most grumpy voice she can muster) "I'm not sunshine. I'm Shoshana."

"Oh, Shoshana, you are so funny." "No. I'm just cute." "Yes. Yes you are."

Mother Earth News Fair Takeaways

My friend, Amanda, won weekend passes to the Mother Earth News Fair this weekend at the Puyallup Fairgrounds by writing a super neat blog about her current gardening exploits for a community organization we both are participating in called Sustainable Renton. I had never heard of this fair before this year but with lots of information on seeds, homesteading, sustainability, low-energy buildings, gardening, and farming, how could I pass it up? Even though the invitation came on the morning of the Fair at 8:30am. Amanda's husband had to work and she wanted a buddy. I'm so glad she asked! We had a great time.

There were tons of booths and 14 (!) different workshops going on at the same time, all day, both days (though we only attended Saturday) to choose from. We were tempted to split up and cover multiple topics but camaraderie won out. First we went to a lecture about composting and soil fertility. Amanda took great notes while I was busy with Abigail. They're so great I copied them here and added some commentary:

Building Soil Fertility

Fertile soil is made of:
1) mineral particles
2) organic debris
3) soil foodweb - bacteria, mites, fungi, algae, protozoa, earthworms.
Fertile soil should be about 50% air : water ratio.
Soil foodweb - plants release sugars from living plant roots, bacteria and other critters feed on sugar, then on bacteria concentrated around roots.
Earthworms break down nutrients which are left in castings while their tunnels aerate the soil.
Over-tilling creates too much aeration and tiny particles called Micromanure which quickly dissolves minerals from the soil and allows minerals to escape into the air.
Minerals sustain the food web which sustains the plants. The large minerals commonly found in fertilizers are N-P-K = Nitrogen, Phosphorus, and Potassium. The most influential of which is Nitrogen.

Nitrogen - Plants require it but it must be balanced.

Lack of nitrogen is one of the most common reasons that plants don't achieve optimum growth. However, too much nitrogen causes an overgrowth of leaves without produce. Balanced nitrogen is a key component for balanced leafy growth and produce growth.

Cover crops - keeps your soil foodweb supported through the winter.

"Fixing nitrogen" - legumes take nitrogen from the atmosphere, convert into a form useable by plants in the soil - part of the soil foodweb
Austrian peas are a tasty overwinter crop (available from Peaceful Valley Farm Supply). Clovers, vetch, and alfalfa are also good cover crops.

Compost - apply mulches, compost, or manure regularly
- Suppresses plant diseases
- Improves soil texture
- Increases soil's water-holding capacity = drought resistance

Artificial Chemical Fertilizers
- Unsustainable (fossil fuel based)
- Can be too potent and burn plants
- washes out of soil, damaging the water supply
- damages the soil foodweb
- Expensive

Soybean meal and alfalfa meal are the best priced organic fertilizers per pound of nitrogen.
Most organic fertilizers will be 2-4% nitrogen. If your fertilizer has more nitrogen than that, they likely have a chemical fertilizer added.

Eight keys to good soil

1) Grow cover crops
2) Avoid chemical fertilizers
3) Avoid tilling. (Broad fork suggested. I also suggest this)
4) Use organic mulches - such as wood chips
5) Use as much compost as you can - chicken manure is great
6) Use grass clippings
7) Use fall leaves - you may break them down with lawn mower - aged one year is best
8) Buy good organic fertilizers wisely

After that lecture we wandered around the booths a bit more, listened to Ed Beckley Jr. speak a bit about his slow transition to energy efficiency, then hit the bookstore. I got three: "Folks, This Ain't Normal" by Joe Salatin, "Saving Seeds" by Robert and Cheryl Gough, and "The Fruit Gardener's Bible" by Lewis Hill and Leonard Perry. Amanda also got three other books so theoretically we could swap and read six!

Then it was time for FAIR SCONES! I absolutely adore them. We always have some in stock from Costco. As soon as we get low I put it on the next list. When we turned around I noticed a booth of specialty oils and balsalmic vinegars. Be still my heart; and my taste buds! We had a blast tasting everything and I ended up buying a small bottle of the white balsalmic and the parmesan, garlic, basil dipping oil. Then it was off to a fermentation lecture during which a sore back, fussy baby, and lack of experience with the subject allowed me to be distracted most of the time. But Amanda says she got a lot out of it. Maybe she'll write up what she learned. Unfortunately, I was so distracted that I ended up forgetting my beautiful balsalmic and oil under the chair never to be seen again. :((((

We also bought some local Theo chocolate, I bought a beautiful bracelet from Guatemala brought to us by co-ops and fair trade, and Amanda bought some seeds. We also got some gluten free handouts from Bob's Red Mill company which I'm curious to try. 

The other topic I learned a LOT on is pasture management. I attended a lecture put on by the Pierce County Conservation District about small farms and how to manage your small pasture. Now that we know our goats are a long-term fixture on our long-term property we need to develop a perspective on our property from "back yard" to "pasture" and treat it as such. Already we are seeing compaction, erosion, and overgrazing of some plants and overabundance of others. The original plan for this fall was to top sow a pasture seed mix specifically for dairy animals and fence it all into three or four sections to allow for rotational grazing. That is all well and good but I didn't know when to move the animals on (when the pasture is about three inches high) or when a pasture needs grazing (no more than 5 or 6 inches high). Or that when an animal is provided with an abundance of grazing they will become picky and quickly kill out their favorite foods. Apparently it is beneficial to chop your pasture down if it gets too tall for whatever reason otherwise the animals will be picky. Too short and the beneficial plants will either die or be stunted. Also, if a plant goes to seed it will stunt because it's job is done for the season. The speaker showed us a couple of different common variations of fencing orientations and other things to take into consideration such as gate layout and high traffic areas. For our high traffic areas it sounds like our best option is to, again, use wood chips layered a foot deep (they will compress over time) in the high traffic areas to promote drainage, protect the soft hooves, and prevent erosion. The drawback to this method is it needs to be scraped out and reapplied every year otherwise the new droppings and accumulations will simply develop a top layer of mud and defeat the purpose. Cheap, but labor intensive.

Last thing, I found this video on combining cover crops with no-till methods. Good stuff to keep in mind for this winter and how to manage that along with the wood chips.

I love this stuff.

Abigail's Birth Story (2 of 2)

The wait was agonizing. My heart literally hurt. I had to force myself to eat and drink just in case that could make a difference. I cried constantly.

Over the last few years I have developed this sense, this overarching fear, of waiting for the other shoe to drop. When things are going relatively well I start wondering when it will all crash down. Even though the news was pretty grim I still saw a tiny shard of hope. "Miracles can happen." This, from my doctor who is a Christian and has seen medical miracles. Both he and I knew it would require a miracle.

Seconds ticked into minutes. Minutes blurred into hours. Hours drug on to days. Tuesday arrived without any further bleeding. I went to my ultrasound thinking that either I am carrying a dead baby or a miracle has happened. Medically, physiologically, there isn't much middle ground. Knowing the tech is not qualified to tell me all I want to know, I simply ask to see the heartbeat. I've seen another woman's child's heartbeat four weeks after a grim prognosis. Would it be the same for me? I could tell right away the tech was experienced. She was efficient in getting set up and as soon as possible aimed the wand toward the heart.

There it was.

"There it is!"

There it was. Flickering rhythmically. Somewhere around 200 beats a minute. My little one was still alive! If only I were an ultrasound tech and could get a clue what the rest of it meant. I waited a couple of hours for the radiologist to view the reports, come to his conclusion, and report to my doctor. "The radiologist tells me he has never seen this amount of improvement in this amount of time." About 80% of the blood between the placenta and uterus had been absorbed. There was no new bleeding and there was significantly more tissue attached to the uterine wall than there was four days earlier, evidence of the placenta shunting it's structures to maintain adequate blood flow despite having a smaller percentage of attached surface area.

It was good news, but not 100% comforting. If the threatened miscarriage was due to a physical abnormality or a developmental issue it could still reoccur at a later time.

Now that we know she is happy, healthy, and developmentally on track we can call this a miracle. But at the time there was still uncertainty.

Fast forward to one week before my due date. I was SO READY for her to come out. When pregnant my joint issues are amplified ten-fold climaxing to constant pain in the last three or four weeks. Both times I have torn the cartilage in my pelvis further crippling me for months. Since my joints are unusually weak I depend heavily on my muscles to provide joint stability. As things get looser with the pregnancy my muscles are taxed more and more, sapping my energy, requiring me to take time off from work for several weeks before the baby is born. With Abigail's pregnancy, the torn pelvis didn't improve after tearing, it only got worse leaving me in intense pain for the last four weeks of the pregnancy. There were times that all I could do was lay on the couch and cry. Hence, when labor started one week before my due date I was relieved.

That morning began with a general backache, something I didn't take note of until much later; I was in too much general pain to notice my back joining the symphony. Contractions maintained the same rhythm as the week before: sometimes an hour would pass between contractions, sometimes only 10 minutes, but nothing consistent and not particularly interruptive. Once Tim returned from work in the evening contractions had begun to get closer together and were much more noticeable so I cloistered myself in the bedroom hoping to maintain that trajectory using concentration with peace and quiet and Sudoku on my phone. After about two hours of this things began changing. I knew I crossed the threshold from latent labor to active labor and would likely give birth soon! Things really intensified over about four contractions so I said it was time to begin the process of traveling to the hospital 40 minutes away.

We left for the hospital (the choice since after my intense labor with Shoshana I wanted the option of pain medicine if I needed it) between 10 and 11 pm, I think. Once there I changed positions frequently, was in and out of the birth tub, saying with a sigh "that contraction was tough but NOTHING like the induced contractions of labor with Shoshana. I could do this for days!" We chatted between contractions, listened to music, progressed consistently. Once transition got close and the sun was coming up we could tell that once again I had a cervical lip. An incredibly painful piece of cervix being pinched with every contraction rather than pushed and stretched. I asked for my pain management options since this is what I feared. The suggestion was made by both Amanda, acting as doula, and the labor RN that we should try breaking my water before trying pain medication which would give more consistent pressure on the cervix. I agreed.

We expected to wait 30 minutes for the midwife on call. She was in another room with a woman pushing. Around this time the shift changed and things got... interesting. 30 minutes turned into an hour and I was screaming with every contraction. Now this is what I remembered from Shoshana's labor! Fire and agony. Tim and Amanda asked again about the status of getting my waters broken since they still hadn't broken on their own. At this point I asked again about my drug options and I was assured that once my water broke things would progress so quickly that drugs wouldn't help. My support team was also assured that the midwife would come VERY SOON to break my water.

Another 30  minutes or so passed and I was sure Abigail was stuck. Every contraction sent me into writhing agony but she wasn't moving. All pain and no progress. Somehow, Amanda got the point across that we wanted someone, anyone, to come and break my water NOW. For the first time, the nurse paged the OB. Apparently they got the idea that I would refuse any and all treatment by an OB without express permission. I'm still not sure how they got that. There was also information lost over shift change including that I had already asked about pain management so they thought I was simply trying to tough it out, determined to have another natural birth.

The OB, who I had never met, showed up in great spirits. He was joking around with the staff and trying to be funny with my support team. Can you guess how raw everyone's emotions were after 2 hours of hearing me scream? He didn't go over well. I have one memory of him talking: "If only she would push past the lip the baby would come right out." OH REALLY? YA THINK? HOW ABOUT YOU COME OVER HERE AND TRY IT! I wanted to scream at him that I'd done that once before but this time something was different! IT WASN'T WORKING! He broke the water which was so tough I might have otherwise birthed her in the caul, with intact membranes. Talk about making up for last time when my water broke on its own at 5am, 18 days early! Then, my favorite memory of the birth happened: someone suggested putting counter-pressure on the cervical lip while I pushed. For those who don't know counter pressure on a bruised cervix during a contraction sends your pain from unimaginable, to inconceivable. I did not agree to this. However, the next contraction came so soon that I didn't get a chance to protest. He barely touched my bruised, hypersensitive cervix and I aimed a kick square in the chest. Too bad he saw it coming and it only glanced off his shoulder. That was mostly for his rude comment earlier and the simple fact that I got to retaliate for his insensitivity with the excuse of being in labor made me unusually happy.

I didn't see or hear from him again. Phew!

Going on 2 and a half hours of transition it occurred to me that this is how women die in childbirth. I had failed to communicate to my team how Abigail was stuck and my weeping between contractions that "this isn't working" didn't get the message across either. Finally, I resorted to the one thing I knew was guaranteed to get everyone's attention: talking about dying. A rule of thumb for clinicians is to always take it seriously when someone starts talking about a "sense of impending doom." Abigail was going to die and I was going to die. That was the only thing I could think to say that might get the sort of response from the clinicians that I wanted. Something had to change or things were going to go badly very quickly. I remember telling Tim to make sure that Shoshana knew how much I loved her. At that point I remember things finally starting to pick up the pace around me. Apparently the anesthesiologist was waiting on the floor, expecting my call. They were prepped for an epidural. Did I want an epidural? ARE YOU KIDDING?? I asked about pain meds two hours ago and you guys are the ones who suggested something else!

Within minutes the anesthesiologist was in the room asking basic questions and the nurse started an IV. They immediately gave me a nice big dose of Fentanyl, a powerful opioid. It didn't touch the pain. Ok, now for the 30 minute process of setting the epidural. Typically you are required to have a liter of fluid infused before starting the epidural to protect against hypotension but in my case they knew I needed the relief ASAP. Too bad the anesthesiologist didn't try sooner! I was in such agony that I couldn't sit still enough for him to do his job. In the meantime they gave me another dose of Fentanyl. Again, no difference in pain. The first poke missed. The second one sent electricity down my left leg. As he was attempting the third one I promised myself that this was his last try. If this didn't work we were having a cesarean. Come to find out later, Tim was thinking the same thing. That, and he had set a time limit: if I didn't have relief or had birthed the baby by a certain time he would demand a c-section. And I would have agreed whole-heartedly! Suddenly, gratefully, "my toes are tingling!" Within a minute I was numb from the ribs down. Don't get me wrong, an epidural doesn't make you completely numb. But a spinal does! I heard him talking to a nurse later that he felt so bad for me that he wanted to make sure that I would get immediate pain relief. I was so glad he did.

And so VERRRY sleepy.

Just in case you missed it, the total was 3 hours of transition and screaming with every push/contraction. Worn out from labor, hoarse from screaming, and, apparently, nearly overdosed on opioids. Oops. Now that I could rest they wanted to wait an hour before pushing so the Fentanyl could work it's way out of our systems. What a great idea! I'll just lay here and sleep. And stop breathing a couple of times. "beep beep beep." "Elizabeth, you need to take a deep breath for me." Clinician speak for "this needs to change now." I forced myself a deep breath and the beeping stopped. As I drifted off again I thought to myself "No Narcan. No Narcan." The reversal drug is brutal. It sends you into complete withdrawal allowing you to feel all the pain again within a matter of seconds. I've had to use it a couple of times on patients. It is never pretty. A tap on the shoulder and reminder to breathe happened three times during that hour. But mostly I slept. My support team got a nap too. The only one not happy at this point was Abigail. She began to show signs of stress.

"Alright! Let's have a baby!" I felt so good! I was grateful and happy to be detached from my lower body. To this day when I hear the word "spinal" I can't help but smile. Feelings of relief, peace, gratefulness, and happiness flood my brain. That happened just this morning! Several intense pushes later she popped out and immediately started making noise. Rather than her big sister's pointed screams Abigail cooed. "ooo ooo." "There she is!" I said I picked her up and placed her on my tummy. She immediately wanted to nurse. It was actually rather comical. Her umbilical cord was still returning the blood that belonged to her back from the placenta yet she couldn't wait to eat! She must be my daughter. The poor thing had to wait anyway because the umbilical cord wasn't long enough to allow her to reach.

My smiling reverie was suddenly broken as the pediatric nurse made a rough swipe on Abigail's right cheek, removing most of the sticky skin protectant/moisturizer called vernix, something I SPECIFICALLY requested on my birth plan to be avoided. "Please don't" I asked the nurse. She said something about getting the baby dry. "We can pat her dry." When she continued to be rougher than I wanted I just happened to dry Abigail just in the places she was aiming for. She got the hint pretty quickly and left us alone.

This is getting pretty long so I'll wrap it up. Abigail was an excellent eater from the start, something I had prayed for since feeding was such a challenge with Shoshana. She was latched the whole first two hours of life. The downside is she is not nearly as good a sleeper as Shoshana. But at this point I am okay with that. As far as the emotional upheaval of the first few months, I haven't come to many conclusions about that yet. Just that I'm glad it is over. I am still puzzled by these sorts of situations and what they are supposed to teach us. I don't have any great insights. I'm still healing. And Abigail is playing a beautiful part of that healing both from the traumatic experiences of Shoshana's early days as well as her own.

Maybe you can help me out. What sorts of things has God taught you through difficult situations?