The Ugly: Part 1

It's Saturday, the day after my gall bladder removal, six days until Christmas. I am sore from the lacerations and the empty spot where my gall bladder used to be. But I feel like a normal, post-op patient. I'm faithfully taking my pain meds and rocking all of the air out. Fun fact: They pump you full of air during a laparoscopic procedure so they are able to see and move around better. Per Sister's advice, rocking in a rocking chair is the best way to keep moving that air out.

Hubs' family has two Christmas celebrations that weekend. While I would have loved to be

there instead of here, healing, I could not travel. Thankfully, my mama was able to come stay with me and Sophia, while hubs took the older three to his folks' for a night. Hubs says that should give me the 48 hours the surgeon suggested it would take for me to feel exponentially better. Mom and I watch movies, eat good food (except for the spoiled soup that I had in my pantry and tried to eat but decided the pain meds were throwing off my taste buds because it tasted horrible, only to realize several weeks later that it was indeed spoiled soup because it was supposed to be kept in the FRIDGE not the PANTRY!) and snuggle the baby. Nights are rough. I sleep sitting up so that the air doesn't move to my shoulders. Sister says that REALLY hurts. It's hard to lift my 11 pound baby, so I am thankful mom is able to stay and help with that. Ok, let's face it, the only things I do for myself all weekend are use the bathroom, eat the food set before me and feed the baby. So thankful for mom.

Monday comes. The kids and hubs are home. I am feeling awful. Not one bit better. I am in pain. My lacerations hurt and it feels like the air is still in there. I call my surgeon's office. The nurse tells me to keep taking my pain meds and give it another day or so. I agree that I will. I assume I will get better. Perhaps my body just isn't recovering as quickly as anticipated because it's still sort of recovering from childbirth as well. Or maybe laparoscopic procedures are not my thing. I think to myself that maybe what I'm feeling is actually normal for day three post-op. I even attempt to get out of the house with Hubs for awhile. The fact that I'm starting to hunch over when I stand should be a clue that things are not ok.

What day is it? Tuesday? Wednesday? Christmas is coming soon. Mom, Dad and Sarah are all coming for Christmas. Well, not mom, she hasn't left. Thank God for that. Pain is draining. It can suck the life out of you so quick. I am in a haze of pain, and feeling like I should be so much better by now. I'm walking hunched over, I can't lay down, my abdomen hurts all over and my shoulders...ow. How come the air still hurts? How is that possible?? By this point, I'm sleeping in the rocking chair downstairs. Sophia sleeps in her swing nearby so that I can still feed her at night. My appetite is gone, I'm actually nauseous most of the time, but thank you Jesus, I still have milk for my baby. I call the surgeon's office again. They offer more pain meds. Tomorrow will be better, right?

This whole week, I remember Hubs and everyone busting their behinds to finish the basement (enough) to move Cadee downstairs and move Lili across the hall. I am of no help and really don't even recall all of it getting done. Hubs put together the girls' furniture, finished the paint downstairs and even got Cadee's door on and I really don't recall any of it. I was so out of it.

On Wednesday, our pastor calls asking if we will be at Christmas Eve service. I remember answering, "I believe so!" or "That's the plan!" Or something like that. Maybe I was just hopeful that a miracle would happen. But, by Christmas Eve, I am in even more pain. My dad and my sister come. As soon as I see them, I see concern cloud their eyes. Do I look that rough? By 4 o'clock that day, I have decided that church is not going to happen tonight. But, I insist that we still host my brother, sister-in-law and my nieces and nephew that evening. I just don't have the strength or composure to make chili and cornbread. No problem. Mom and Sister can handle it. Sister comes to rub my shoulders. They hurt so bad. The heat pad isn't doing the trick anymore. I have an ice pack laying across my lacerations and a heat pad on my shoulder and nothing is making a difference. I can't leave this chair. It hurts too bad. I hear tension in the kitchen about how to prepare the chili but I can't even respond. I am in so much pain.

Brother and family come. As they round the corner to greet me, I see concern wash over their faces as well. We go about our evening, eating, talking, laughing, opening presents. Sophia gets loved on. Drake is so happy my nephew is here. And the girls are loving playing with cousins. Hubs brings me dinner. My sister-in-law made this really delicious soup and it is tasting good. I ask for seconds. Hey, if I'm feeling good, I should probably eat as much as my stomach will allow. We open presents. I am still finding things and assuming the kids got it for Christmas, because I'm not even sure I was fully present that evening. After presents, I start to feel miserable. Abdomen pain and sharp pains and nausea... I need to go upstairs. I don't want anyone to see this.

Brother and family leave. Hubs reads The Christmas Story to our kids every Christmas Eve

before bed. I don't want to miss it. I don't want to miss anything. I come back downstairs. I lower myself into the rocking chair. Someone puts Sophia on the floor by Daddy. She looks so cute in her Christmas jammies. Dad reads the story in front of the fireplace. It's a picture perfect moment. Minus the fact that I don't know how much more of this pain I can take. After the book, we all head to bed. I take a bucket, as I am feeling extremely nauseous. Everyone is anxious for Christmas morning! Hubs finishes wrapping presents upstairs. I nurse the baby and settle into my pillows to help me sleep upright. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will be ok.

The Bad

A couple weeks after Miss Bliss' arrival, our favorite ice cream shop was closing it's doors for the season. Of course, we had to make a trip one last time! I had just fed Sophia, the diaper bag was ready, everyone had their shoes and coats on to load up, and I was feeling miserable. What was this? It felt like bad gas or something. I wondered if my body and organs were just readjusting after childbirth but, OH MY GOSH. And that quickly, I was on the floor, trying any position to find relief from this pain. I couldn't describe it to my worried husband by my side. With the kids all anxious to go, he was trying to get me to respond...Do we go get ice cream? What's wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital instead? I laid there for 15 minutes or so. And as quickly as the pain came, it was gone. And, it quickly became an afterthought. Off to ice cream we went!

November 19, 4:30pm ...Lili informs Dad, Nana and I that she has a concert THAT VERY NIGHT and she needs to be there at 6 p.m. We all snap into action to make that happen! A half an hour into it, the pain returns. There is no warning. No preparing for this. And it hurts to touch the right side of my abdomen. What is going on inside of me? I push through. Praying for the pain to subside. I try to sit through Lili's concert, I try to stand through Lili's concert, nothing is helping. I'm getting anxious about this. What is going on? My dear, concerned mother tells my sister what is going on. She calls and says, "It sounds like your gallbladder, sis." And she is able to describe the exact pain I am having. Like someone is squeezing me right under my ribs and it goes all the way around my back. Yes! That's it! Sister had her gallbladder out in 2008, so she knows what I'm going through. She advises me to stay away from sugar and carbs. (WHAT?!! What am I supposed to eat then?!) She empathizes that yes, it sucks, but we agree that the attacks are worse than a diet change. I make an appointment with my doctor as soon as possible.

My doctor feels around my abdomen, I clench and grimace as she gets closer to my right side. She agrees that I need an ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis:: Gall stones. My ultrasound is scheduled for the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.

The ultrasound tech is very nice. Pushes around a lot, but very kind to make sure I am still comfortable. He takes a bajillion pictures. I ask him what he sees. He gives me a rehearsed answer.."The doctors prefer we not tell the patients what we see." I razz him..."But you see something, right?" He responds with..."I do a lot of ultrasounds. I know what I'm looking at. And I know what I see." I keep razzing him..."So do I have a few stones?" He kindly responds..."I could get in trouble for responding. I'm sorry." Dang it. He's good. I head home and wait for my doctor to call me.

She is quick to respond before Thanksgiving, thankfully! I just want to know what's going on. She confirms what she thought before and what the ultrasound shows... Gall stones. But she is unsure if it's a giant mass of several gall stones or one big giant one. She tells me that it's taking up most of my gall bladder and that she would refer me to a surgeon right away. She advises that I could continue to live with attacks, but eventually, that mass will irritate my gall bladder too much and cause too much pain to live with.

Hubs agrees- that thing has got to come out! The surgeon's office calls and schedules a consultation. We talk with the surgeon, he reviews the scans, he doesn't question the diagnosis at all. It's pretty obvious. He goes over all of the risks of the actual procedure with me. He says that it could be a bunch of little stones, in which case the laparoscopy procedure will work just fine. But if it's one big one, I might wake up with a bigger laceration as they needed a bigger space to remove the organ. Well, yeah, that makes sense. Let's just get this thing out, and before the end of the year....We've already met our deductible with childbirth.

Surgery is scheduled for December 18th. Perfect. Before the end of the year, and I should have no problem healing my body before Christmas. Let's do this! I continue to have attacks here and there. I continue to watch my diet as much as possible. My shortest attack was the first one, at 15 minutes. My longest attack lasted seven hours. Yes, SEVEN HOURS. The way my surgeon explained an attack is that the gall stone(s) are rolling around in there and then they get sucked over the top of the bile duct tube and my body is trying so hard to make it pass through but it just can't. So that's where the pain comes from. All that effort to push this stuck stone through the tube. And, if it IS one giant stone, there is NO WAY it will fit!

December 17th...No eating after 8 pm. Got it. I'm starting to get nervous. I mean, it's surgery. Any surgery is nerve-racking. Add in the fact that I have a 6 week old that hasn't taken a bottle yet and I'm nervous.

December 18th...Girls are at school, Drake is at home with Nana and Sophia is with us at

the hospital. We have an elaborate plan to feed her before they take me back. That way, if she refuses the bottle, at least he could maybe hold her off until I'm out of surgery, and then I can try to give it to her. I know with anesthesia and such, I'll need to pump and dump for awhile, so she has to take a bottle. Lord please, she has to take that bottle. The nurse gets me all set up. IV in place. I talk to the surgeon, the anesthesiologist...All is well. We are ready. I tear up as I kiss my tiny babe and husband goodbye. You read about simple procedures going wrong and mama bleeds out on the table and the last thing she said to her husband was "I think you should shave" or something ridiculous. I know, I know, "Rachel, don't think like that! Why would you think that?!" I see it in Hubs' eyes- you'll be fine. And I'll keep saying it til you believe it. I give Soph another kiss. Please take your bottle, baby. I'll be back soon. I walk back to the operating room, climb up on the table, the nurse takes my glasses, I'm anxious, for sure. The anesthesiologist is talking about the glory days at Iowa State back in the 80s...and then I'm out. Just like that.

I remember waking up with an oxygen tube in my nose and seeing a wall and a screen. Ow. Then it comes out my mouth..."Ow". The nurse turns, "Oh you're awake. I know it hurts. Let's get you something for the pain." I ask- "How did it go? Am I doing ok?" The nurse responds- "Everything went well. And your stats are looking good." I hear another patient being rolled in. She's just waking up and she is losing it over how much pain she is in. Yikes, I think, I wonder what procedure she had done. I now understand why they have the beds facing the walls. My throat is so dry. I later realize it's from the tube that was down my throat. As soon as I'm fully awake, they wheel me to another recovery area. One where my hubs and baby can come see me. We arrive at the "room"...an area with a recliner, a table and a curtain as the door. They park the bed and advise me to use my arms to pull myself up and get into the chair. I give the nurse a look. You expect me to move myself from here to there. I have four lacerations in my abdomen and I'm supposed to get from this reclined position to that chair on my own. Lord, help me. It hurts, but I make it to the chair. They ask

if I'm ready to eat some toast, I ask for my husband and daughter. Both arrive in a timely manner. I drink my Sierra Mist while Hubs holds Sophia close to me. Sierra Mist was my favorite drink...it reminded me of when Drake was born. The girls brought me a lot of Sierra Mist when they visited. Now, it leaves a bad taste in my brain. I eat my toast, drink my soda. Hubs and I talk about how it went.

While I was getting stitched up, the surgeon reported to Hubs that it went very well. He said my gall bladder was pretty sick but he got in and out in 20 minutes. And, Hubs tells me that Sophia drank her bottle like a champ! It seems like the day went flawlessly and now I just needed to focus on healing from surgery.

A quick stop at Target for some pain management and we are headed home. To heal. To

rest. To bounce back. At least that's the plan...

The Good

Christmas weekend marked the third trip to the hospital for myself in the past 8 weeks. These three visits gave me a lot to think about and write about, and I will be using my blog to work through some of the emotional/mental struggles I have with the past few weeks. These posts will serve as a journal for me. I shall name these hospital visits... The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

The Good

Sweet Sophia Bliss made her entrance into the world precisely when she was ready: October 30th, her due date. I had my 40 week appointment that morning at 10. I had never made a 40 week appointment in my life and was feeling equal parts proud of my body and impatiently awaiting my sweet daughter's arrival. I remember waking up that morning before the sun and making a note on my phone that reads... "40 weeks! My body aches, but my heart is content with you tucked so close to it. See you soon, baby."

Nana had come to stay with us for awhile. We were all eager for the baby to come, and honestly shocked that she hadn't come yet. I don't know how long we decided Nana would stay, but I have a feeling she wasn't leaving until baby came.

Hubs and I headed to our appointment. Both of us anxious to hear that I had dilated more, or that any progress was happening! The doctor came in and we chatted about how today was my due date and if I had ever been pregnant that long. I laughed, anxiously, impatiently. She got down to business and checked everything out. Sister measured at 41 weeks, I believe. My blood pressure was good. Her heart rate was good. Doc went to check inside and reported that I was still a 3. At which point a little piece of me sighed in disappointment. Then she goes, "Oh wow. Your water bag is right there. Like, RIGHT here. Do you want me to strip your membranes for you?" Yes, please yes. After that, she came up slowly and looked at me funny. She said, "Do you feel wet?" Yes, but I assume it's just from the gel you used. "Well, I think I just broke your water when I did that. I've never done that before." WHAT?! Seriously?! "Yeah, why don't you hang out here, walk around a little bit, here's a pad. And then I can check again in a little bit." !!!!!!!!!!!! Ok!


Two days before Baby Sisser's birth day

Doctor exits the room. Hubs and I look at each other. I'm smiling so big it hurts! He is still holding back excitement. We have had a false labor alarm this pregnancy, so he is just not going to get excited until I'm crowning, I think. I get dressed, walk around the little exam room, chat with hubby about what an exciting day this might turn out to be and 7-10 minutes later, I feel a gush! A GUSH! Exactly what every 40 week pregnant mama wants to feel! The doctor comes back, she offers to check to see if the water bag was deflated and I said, yes please, we want to be sure this time. No more false alarms! It doesn't take long for her to confirm that we are indeed having a baby soon. Thank you, Jesus.

We are advised to go home, eat something, get our things and head to the hospital where they will be ready for us. We arrive home to all of our kiddos anxiously awaiting any news. I was thankful Nana was there, especially since the girls did not have school this day. This day also happened to be Liliana's half birthday. When we walked through the door, I reported I was still at a 3 (not a lie) and that baby was good (also, not a lie). Then I looked at Lil, grabbed her sweet face and said, "Happy half birthday. Dad and I got you something. We decided to have baby sister today." Chaos, confusion, excitement and explanation.. Mama's water broke and we are going in! That was our last moment as a family of five.

Bags? Check. Birthing ball? Check. Snack? Check. Let's go! We are all smiles and excitement heading downtown to meet our precious baby girl. Hubs calls his boss to report the good news and to start his vacation time. I twiddle my thumbs, eat my snack and mentally prepare for my epidural-free birth. We arrive at the hospital and enter the parking garage to find a spot. I'm talking a mile a minute, so excited for what's about to happen! Then I realize we are stopped and this guy in front of us is honking at us to back up so he can have the spot he just passed. Well, we would, but there are 2 cars behind us that aren't moving either. Next thing I know, we are rammed into by this guy and then he takes off. Yes, I'm in labor at the hospital and we get involved in a hit and run. Unbelievable! The drivers behind us both get out and talk to hubs, give him information to contact them if he needs witnesses. Our van is dead in the water. The front end is smashed in and the radiator is smoking. Good thing we have no where else to be right now! My heart is racing, but we are ok. No one is injured. One of the drivers comes back to let us know that the guy that hit us is parked on the floor above us. Seriously? Hubs takes off running as I shout-- Don't do anything stupid!! He comes back with pictures and proof that he hit us. That driver was no where to be found but we have enough for the police. C'mon, babe, let's go have this baby.

We are all checked in, settling in our room, I have my flattering hospital gown on and we are

all hooked up, checking baby sister out. It's about noon. We are watching HGTV and hubs is pacing. I know the accident is on his mind and he needs to work out the details before it consumes his whole day. We hear sister, I'm still at a three, the nurse offers me a popsicle, I'm comfortable and contractions are sporadic and not hard at all. That would be discouraging, but I know my water broke and they won't send me home. The doctor on call (the one that delivered Drake, actually) tells me to walk around for an hour and see if we can't get things going. We stroll the hallways, giddy and ready. After an hour, we head back to our room to get a new report. Or not....still at a 3. The doctor comes in and suggests some Pitocin to get things going, kind of jump start my body into labor. She says, "We can wait and watch baby for another hour, and then it might be a good idea to start Pitocin." I smile and agree. I am fine with anything at this point, I just want to meet our baby!
With everything going just fine, I tell hubs to call the police and go deal with that while we wait. So he does.

An hour later, the Pitocin drip starts. I'm still very comfortable, Hubs is now content with the police report being filed, and we are ready to go. The Pitocin starts to do it's job. I am contracting more frequently, and they are gradually getting more intense. It's ok, I trained for this! Breathe, breathe, every contraction brings me closer to bringing this baby into the world.

It's nearly 4 o'clock now and with each contraction I have to stop and really concentrate. These are getting intense and they are coming fast. They slow down my Pitocin drip but...oh wow. I am feeling every bit of these. There is a short break between contractions, but not much. With each one, Hubs warns me of the start and holds my hand til he can reassure me that it is coming back down and that it's almost over. I am still texting and updating friends and family occasionally at this point.

All outside communication is cut off. We need all hands on deck to get through each contraction now. It's a little after 5 p.m., I am laying on my side and slightly panicking... These hurt. I have never felt a more intense pain. It takes over my whole body. 5:30... I tell Hubs that I can't do this. A nurse offers to give me some fentanyl to take the edge off. I nod my head yes. Hubs holds my face and tells me, "You CAN do this. Your body was made for this." And just like that, I'm ready. With each contraction, my body tenses. I can hear the nurse telling me not to push. I can hear Hubs telling me to relax and breath. But everything in me is tensing and I don't feel like I can stop it. There's a rush of nurses and finally I hear my doctor asking me if I'm ready to have this baby. (I later find out that they were in the middle of a doctor change. Dr. Booth was off at 6, and Dr. Lange thought "I should head in to work a little early." Then she got a phone call from the nurses saying I was at a 7 and will be ready soon. By the time she got there, I was ready to push. From past babies, I know that I go from 6/7-10 really fast. This time was no different. 15 minutes.)

It's now 6 o'clock. "Rachel, we need you to lay on your back, can you do that?" Do you think I could push on my side like this? "I would say yes, but with the size of your baby, I think it would be best if you could push on your back." Ok. Whatever you say! "There we go. Ok, are you ready to meet your baby girl?"

6:12 p.m. I hear her crying so loud. She is not fully born but man, does she have a set of lungs on her!

6:15 p.m. The pain stops. And there is a sweet, squishy, precious, beautiful baby girl laid on my chest. She is crying and it is the most beautiful noise in the world (as Drake was taken by the NICU nurses and given an oxygen mask right away after he was born). I know her name the minute I meet her and it couldn't be more perfect... Sophia Bliss. Oh how I love her. They help me get situated with skin-to-skin contact and she nurses right away. It is the most perfect start to life with Sophia. I keep wondering when they will take her to clean her up and weigh her and get her foot prints...The nurse assures me that there is absolutely no rush. They will weigh her when I am ready. We stay like this, in our little bubble, for an hour or so. Finally, curiosity gets the best of me, and I need to know how big she is. I mean, look at these cheeks!! Earlier that morning, my OB guessed maybe 7 or 8 pounds. They lay her on the scale and Hubs' eyes are suddenly huge. "She's 9 lbs. 6 oz., Babe! 20.5 inches long." Ohmygoodness. I birthed that.

I had a friend ask me if I got to experience the birth I planned for. And I thought long and hard about that and I can say "yes". The only expectations I had were to go epidural free and to hold my sweet baby at the end of it. And I did that. And I would do it again.

The next two days are hard and beautiful and cherished forever. Hard, because once Drake was able to come visit me and baby sister, he did NOT want to leave. And my hormones were all over the place. He cried when it was time to leave and it broke me. He had been my baby for 3 years. Now, here with this new baby, I felt like I had betrayed him. Beautiful, because obviously. Sophia is gorgeous, and perfectly plump, and people are waiting on me with food and help. It's wonderful. Cherished, because those days I will never get back. Those days of getting to know her, how she prefers to nurse, what her cries mean, staring into her eyes. Those are sweet sweet memories.

Emotionally, I was doing ok. Easily tearing up at things, but definitely finding joy and purpose just fine. Not falling into the black hole that is postpartum depression. Drake keeps me giggling. And the love filling our house is overwhelmingly blissful. One week after coming home from the hospital and sharing her name with everyone, my grandma unexpectedly passes away. Grief feels different than depression and I am weary with grief over this loss. Grief that Sophia will not know her great grandma this side of heaven. Grief that I didn't savor our last visit with her. All the regret...all the sorrow...and yet, this Blissy Babe fills my heart and daily brings me joy. Grandma wouldn't want it any other way. And I know she and Grandpa are watching every moment of Sophie's life and loving on her from above.  

Physical recovery without an epidural during labor is now my preference. I was able to get up and walk around as soon as she was born. My back didn't hurt from a giant needle. I had no anxiety about a spinal headache. My body was bouncing back and I could not have been happier with the way it was recovering. At least for the next week or two...It was easy and good.

College Isn't For Everyone, Kids

I have a terrible memory. I've probably shared that before, but I don't remember. There are certain situations or conversations that stick out to me from my past because they have been life altering for me. This situation is one of them...

I vividly remember standing there, as a nearly graduated-early senior, talking to a teacher about my future plans. Mind you, I just had a baby within the same month I graduated early. My grades were above average. I was adjusting to a new normal. A new life of being a mom, at age 18. "Future plans" involved coming up with a way to get more sleep... Not getting mastitis again... And figuring out what part my baby's daddy was going to play in this elusive future. I just had a baby. She was weeks old. She was my world. She was my future. I remember telling this teacher a little of that and he looked stunned. "...you mean, you're not thinking about college??"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't offended by this conversation. As if my life was over without going to college. As if making it through high school wasn't an accomplishment. As if being a mother was petty and not setting my standards high enough.

Yes, I get it. College is "the holy grail", the reason for doing well in high school, the springboard for your future. At least, that's what everyone seems to think. College is really put on a pedestal. Now, don't get me wrong, my dear husband went to college, got his masters' in 5 years and has a successful job that he loves. But, that's not how it goes for everyone... I have several friends that went to college because "that's what you do". That's how you make your family proud. They picked a major because the classes worked with their schedule and it seemed like a legit way to make money someday. But that's not their reality now. They spent thousands of dollars, most STILL paying off that debt, to get a degree for a job they will never find. Some even returned to school to get a different, more practical degree.

It has taken me years and much love and encouragement from my husband to say this: My greatest accomplishment in this life is being a mom. Take that, former high school teacher. College truly is not for everyone. Motherhood is not for everyone. But it is for me. I don't need a piece of paper from a university to validate my worth. I find more glory, more pride, more refinement, more "life-experience" in being a mother than I could have ever expected a university to give me. And while, yes, it may cost even more than getting a degree, I love that my "job" every single day is to pour out love to these babies of mine. To teach them. To keep them safe. To give them opportunities. To tell them things like "College isn't for everyone, kids." I want them to know that success isn't defined by grades, scores and passing or failing a class. Success comes in so many different forms. I want to show them that fulfillment doesn't come from books and other people, but that it comes from knowing God and following His plan for your life-- whatever that may be.

If I were to see this teacher now, I would beam with pride at all that I have accomplished. I would proudly tell him that I did not go to college. And that I am working on my "4th masters' degree" as a mom. I love what I do and I would tell my 18 year old self... "Your future is even better than you can imagine."

Random Rachel/Life Update

Here we go...

* 36 weeks pregnant with sweet babe #4 on Friday. This has gone by so fast. I am speechless.

* ER trips are scary, no matter how many people say "He will be fine." Drake has a nasty laceration on the inside of his bottom lip, but because it didn't go through his lip, "he will be fine". The mouth heals quickly and on it's own. No stitches. Just prayers and a hovering mama now...

* Next week, we have an ultrasound to see how big baby sisser is. At my 34 wk appointment, I was measuring at a 37. I have one of two outcomes that would be acceptable in my mind... 1- They measured off/she was sitting funny to throw the measurement off. OR 2- My due date is sooner! I simply will not accept that she is a giant baby. Especially not when the plan is an epidural-free birth. More on that decision later.

* Cadee started band lessons at school this year and has chosen the trumpet! Good thing her room isn't finished yet.... Sound proofing will be worth the cost!

* Having sweet, elderly neighbors might be my favorite thing about living here. Doris called last week offering to give Lili piano lessons. I think a keyboard is in order for her Christmas present... She's going to LOVE it!

* My most recent prayer has been that God would be my rest and relaxation. It's much easier to tap into Him throughout my day than to fit in a nap. And, I was starting to value sleep above all else. Which would lead to severe depression once the baby comes...because sleep will be elusive, and I am prepared for that. I think...

Summer 2015 Recap

Today was the first day of school! I love looking back at our summer and all of the fun that filled it! We try to make the most of our summers, but this one especially, as the arrival of Baby Girl this fall will change how our summer looks next year.

june

June was filled with getting adjusted to summer and soaking up all the time off! We started summer with finishing up soccer and competing in a fishing competition near Grandpa and Grandma's. The girls have done this annually and this year, Drake had fun catching and actually TOUCHING a fish! I am not a big fan of fishing, but I got excited because they were excited.

I am thankful that I got to enjoy a weekend away with my City Moms Blog midwest sisters! I loved connecting and reconnecting with these mamas. Our national conference takes place the first weekend in October, and as you can guess, I will be too pregnant to make the trek. So this little Midwest Meetup was the perfect thing to tide me over until next year. These ladies, though they may live far away, have impacted and inspired me more than words can say. I am blessed to know them and be known by them.
Lili enjoyed many evenings taking classes at the local gymnastics studio. It was her first time really getting involved and she has LOVED it!! I think this is something we will definitely be a part of as long as she wants to. It's great exercise and confidence booster!
The girls got to go to Nana and Bapa's for a week while Drake and I soaked up the sun and time with friends here. We explored a local national park and had some fun in the water!
June 2015 will always be engraved in my memories, but mostly because this is the month that we

discovered we would be welcoming another baby GIRL into the family this fall. I can vividly remember the technician focusing in on it and saying, "Do YOU know what it is?" With happy tears in my eyes, I responded, "That's a girl!" We've been buying pink ever since!

july

Our summer holiday weekend was spent with Grandma and Grandpa. We had fun shooting off fireworks, playing kickball with cousins, and just enjoying time with family. I loved seeing Drakey get so excited about things that he probably doesn't remember from years past.
July got a little more complicated and messy when one morning, Drake stood beside my bed at 6:40 a.m. and said, "I wanna wear big boy undies!" as he handed me a pair of Paw Patrol undies. I vowed from the beginning that I would follow his lead with potty training and I don't think he could have been anymore clear that he was ready! I was nervous, but said a prayer and said goodbye to the diapers and we have not looked back! Day 1: We were just getting used to the idea of pausing to go pee. He had about 7 or 8 accidents but we kept at it and just tried to remind him every 40 minutes.

Day 2: We decided to go see a movie. I know you think I'm crazy, and I would have never done this with the girls. But this time around just felt different. It was his idea to potty train and I thought- why not? He did great at the theaters. Only having accidents after getting to the bathroom. Just a few seconds too late! Day 3: I think this is the day he really got it. I don't remember being overwhelmed with wet undies. He was still struggling to go #2 in the potty, and would not master this for a few more weeks, but I was just so proud of him for telling me when he had to pee that the poo thing was an after thought! Drake has done a great job and still has days where he dribbles or stops himself but needs new undies, but we haven't bought diapers since June. At first, he wore diapers for naps and bedtimes for a few days, then I noticed he was waking up dry. So after a week of potty training, we went cold turkey. I am so proud of him!

Towards the end of July, we developed a plan to have Cousin Week at Nana and Bapa's. And somehow, it worked out that Drake would stay at their house for one night with Cadee and Lili, and without mommy or daddy. Dathan and I took FULL advantage of the opportunity and had a nice, quiet 20 hours together which included a date night with friends and plenty of sleep! Drake did so well and we cannot wait to make this a regular thing.
Cousin Week was a BLAST! I'm sure the kids would agree that this needs to be an annual thing. We had fun with water: pools, beaches, water balloons and more! We watched movies, at home and in the theater. We played games and colored. And we also enjoyed the local museum, the candy shop and much more! The silliness in the house reached a record high with 6 kids, 2 aunts and one set of grandparents under one roof. We had plenty of giggle fits, inside jokes and cousin bonding during our week. I can't wait to do it again with Baby Girl in tow!

august

This month has been the most laid back of them all. Grandma came for a visit and babysat while we had a date night for our 9TH Anniversary, then Auntie Sares came for the hottest weekend of the summer and then Nana came to stay and soak up our last days of summer! We loved attending the state fair on the coolest day of the week (60s in August!). We have finished back-to-school shopping, reconnected with neighborhood friends and met our teachers on Friday. School started today, and I think even Cadee was ready for it. Drake will be lonely and miss his sissies, but October will come quickly, and with it, much more excitement!

Lili's Salvation Story

I remember the exact moment my heart skipped a beat. Out of fear. Fear that I wouldn't know all of the answers to her questions. Fear that I wouldn't instruct her to pray the right way. Fear that we wouldn't take all of the proper steps to insure she would get into heaven. But, the peace. I remember the peace more clearly than the fear. Peace that comes from letting Jesus rule and guide my heart, instead of fear. Peace from seeking counsel from a dear friend and trusted Jesus-lover. Peace that my daughter, my toughest, most emotional, most refining (for me) daughter yet would be entering the kingdom of heaven with me someday.

Lili had been asking a lot of questions about communion and heaven lately. She knows the facts, and sometimes I believe she is more spiritual than anyone. She really does believe in God and Jesus. She just needed help putting it all together. We had had conversations before, but they never went too deep. We talked about God and Jesus, we talked about how He is the creator, how He loves us and how He wants us to love Him back with our whole hearts. Now came the time for application... Well, mommy, what does that look like? What does it mean to love Jesus with your whole heart? Why do you get communion and I don't?

It was a Sunday morning....September 21, 2014. My parents were in town but decided to stay home for whatever reason. Lili was the only one going with me to church that Sunday. Looking back, I see what a sweet gift that was. To spend that time with her. We hopped in Nana and Bapa's car (Ruby) and headed to church. Lili is a talker. She has been talking and singing since she found her vocal cords! This day was no different. She started asking more questions about salvation and heaven. I can't recall every question nor every answer, but I do remember it coming back to communion and why we take that. She said, "Mom, I know it is like Jesus' body for the bread and the juice is His blood because He died on the cross, but why?"

Remember above how I mentioned my Jesus-loving friend, and how she guided me to leading my daughter to Christ? I called her one day, afraid, and asked her to meet me that night. I could tell she was concerned and she agreed. And she was pretty relieved when I told her I needed help teaching salvation to my girl. She gave me the greatest advice that I will keep for all of my children, and for any non-believer... You teach the gospel and let the Spirit do the rest.

So on that Sunday morning, in the car, on the way to church, I shared the gospel with my daughter. This wasn't the first time we have talked about Jesus coming to earth, living as a human, and dying on the cross for our sins and raising from the dead so that we may enter heaven one day. But, on this day, she looked at me in the rear view mirror and said- I do believe that, mom!

We prayed for Jesus to forgive her of her sins, come live in her heart and we thanked Him for loving us.

Have we had tough days since? Yes. Has she dishonored and disobeyed us since that day? Absolutely. Do I offer grace and forgiveness? Does Jesus? The answer is a resounding YES. This is what Jesus is. Grace. Love, Forgiveness. I am incredibly thankful that my girl GETS that. She embraces that. And she gets to live her life in the peace that grace offers.

Thank you, Jesus, for loving us when we disobey, dishonor and distrust You. Your grace knows no end. Your love is truly unconditional. Thank you for the peace that comes with it.