Hitting the Pregnancy Wall

It's happened...I've hit the "wall". I thought I could push through it. I thought it would subside. I even thought maybe it wouldn't happen to me. But, it did. With one month to go, I can honestly say I've hit that point in prengnacy where you wonder how in the world you are going to make it to your due date.

I remember reading where another mommy said 35 weeks was her hardest week mentally because she always thinks, "I can't do 5 more weeks of this." Well, when I hit week 35 and still felt as though I could stay pregnant forever, I thought (rather haughtily, I might add) that I was quite possibly going to escape from the end-of-pregnancy-blahs. Pride cometh before a fall...

So here I sit...and sit...and sit...because to be quite honest, getting up really does not appeal to me at this point! I tell myself a million times a day a quote from my dh's friend Dan, "I was having a bad day...until I lowered my expectations." Yet, this little condemning voice inside my head says, "It's the holidays! You have too much to prepare to just sit there!"..."Don't you know your house is a mess? Wouldn't be surprised if you find a mouse in that kitchen nibbling away at all the crumbs!"..."When was the last time you changed the 2 year old's shirt? You mean he slept in it? Two nights in a row???"

Yes, it is the holidays. And I will push through the best I can, but I really feel as though I need a plan...a way to make this house behave, a way to make the children behave, a way to make things run as smoothly as possible this last month. I'm just not sure how. You see, I've gone from a Snail's Pace to a If-I-Take-One-More-Step-This-Baby-Will-Fall-Out-Or-I'll-Fall-Down Pace.

One more month, huh? Will the holidays be ruined if I celebrate from the couch? Can a house really implode in a mere month? If I don't change the toddler's shirt for 2 days will it really pose a health risk?

If only I weren't such a visual person who needs a clutter-free environment to truly feel peaceful. *sigh* I guess all I can do is lower my expectations, try to enjoy the 4 weeks I have left, and keep pushing on the wall little by little until this precious little one is in my arms!

And please, feel free to leave all your best end-of-pregnancy tips in the comments box!

4 Bears in a Bed

We all know the song...

Four bears in a bed
and the little one said,
"Roll over...I'm crowded."

So, they all rolled over
and one fell out.

Three bears in the bed
and the little one said...etc.

Well, these are my four bears in MY bed!



Every night, there is at least one child in my bed to start with. Sometimes we move that child. Sometimes we do not. It really depends on how big said child is. The 2 year old we can sleep around...the 5'2" 10 year old we cannot.

Sometime in the middle of the night we gain another child...usually the 7 year old.

The scene above happens several times a month...take note of who is NOT in the picture (hint: do you see a mommy or a daddy type person???)

Now, take into account that my husband is 6'4".

Add to that that my belly is about as wide as I am tall! In case, you need a visual:



And the last factor is...

This is a QUEEN SIZED BED!!!

Four bears in the bed
and the Mama Bear said,

"WE NEED A KING SIZED BED!!!"

A Quilt to Remember

Words cannot even begin to describe the feelings I felt as I opened a mysterious package that arrived on my doorstep today. Inside was a beautiful quilt made with love and prayers by a group of ladies from an internet forum I am a part of. Of special note is the center block. It is Emily and the outfit she had on in the picture that has become how everyone remembers Emmy. It is also the outfit she was buried in (minus the hat...I just could not let go of the hat). An extra quilt block was made into a pillow to match. Aren't they breathtaking? What wonderful Christian sisters!

And Motrin's Response...

Thank you, Motrin, for accepting when you are wrong...

Motrin Home Page

(Note: I had not checked the website prior to tonight, so I did not know they had issued a response and retraction of the ad a few days ago. Glad to know so many spoke out!)

Motrin Ad on Babywearing ~ My Story

Babywearin' mamas everywhere are outraged by this ad, and rightly so. Poor marketing, Motrin. Bad, all-around idea ad agency. Might wanna get this off the networks before too many more baby-packin' mamas see this!

I could fire off all the benefits of babywearing and all the statistics and all the other militant-mama artillery in my arsenal, but what speaks louder than all of that is my story.



I became a die-hard babywearer with the birth of my 3rd child in 2004. I had finally gotten the hang of it and LOVED it. So, naturally, when my 5th child, Emily, came along in 2007, she spent a goodly amount of time in some sort of homemade-by-me baby carrier. The store, the park, hiking, you name it...I wore her.



And at 7 months and 6 days, I lost her.

What I gave her ~ the comfort of mama's closeness ~ and what she gave me in return ~ priceless memories ~ are unmatched. She would bury her fuzzy little head against my chest and fall fast asleep. I would snuggle my check against the top of her head and breathe in her sweet baby smell.

And these memories are not just mine. My husband speaks so fondly of the days he would come home from work and catch a glimpse of me in the window working about the kitchen with Emily strapped to my back in a mai tai. He would come in and kiss her and kiss me and watch us as we continued about our work ~ mama and baby melded together in a domestic dance.



One of the hardest things to put away after her death was my stash of baby carriers. I wanted so badly to hold this child to my heart once again. I searched the carriers for her hair, her smell, remnants of all my memories.

This is what babywearing is. It is a mother's love enveloping her child. It is not a fashion statement, it is not a martyr's curse, it is not a pain in the neck, or back, or hip...it is me...it is Emily...sharing moments that would someday be memories...precious, precious memories.

A Bit of Autumn for My Emmy

Last month, we went to the local flower shop and had them make this grapevine and autumn leaves wreath for Emmy's grave. I had seen a similar one on a stand next to my father's grave (I am assuming my brother placed it there) and thought it was beautiful.



Notice the green, green grass! I know by next year the grass that is all around her grave will have taken over this little patch of Heaven, but for now Ty and I are enjoying its beauty.

I also thought I would share one of those strange-things-that-happens-when-you've-lost-a-child moments since I was posting about her gravesite. Our 2 year old (the one in the post below) gets all excited and claps when we drive by a cemetery--any cemetery. Quite often when we visit Emily's grave the children all pile out and play in the grass. Emmy's is the only one in that section, so there is plenty of room to run and play. We will often gather them up to pray or read Scripture over her grave as well. They've become so accustomed to visiting the cemetery that our little guy thinks they are a great place to spend the day.

Some would say this is morbid, but I am thankful my children do not see the cemetery as a scary awful place. It really is quite beautiful there. In the evening, we can look off to the west and see a gorgeous painted sky. There is an old stone gate along the entrance and trees have been planted around the perimeter. It is quiet there.

I was also given a bit of comfort recently from another grieving mother who stopped us in a restaurant. She is several years younger than I am and I can't say that I know her all that well, but she took the time to stop by our table and chat about the son and daughter we each lost and our babies on the way. Before she left she told me that when they visit the cemetery, they always drive by Emily's grave on their way out. This makes me smile. It makes me feel as if someone else cares for my little Emily. Another grieving mama takes time from her pain to visit mine. I am forever grateful to those who continue to remember.

Snips and Snails and...

a washer full of leaves and nuts! THAT's what little boys are made of!




My new way of doing laundry is to stay downstairs with it until I have a considerable amount finished and then have children haul it upstairs for me. Today, when I opened the washer after a load of jeans, I was met with a stash of nature straight from the pockets of my dear little 2 year old.

This precious little boy who rarely says an intelligible word (although lately we've heard "mama", "dada", and "football"!) is one of those kiddos who makes you smile just by looking at him.

Even when he regresses in potty-training and I have to put him back in diapers, even when he shoves Hershey Kiss wrappers up his nose and I have to work at getting him to blow hard enough to get them back out, and yes, even when he stuffs his pockets full of snips and snails and they end up in my washer, you still gotta smile at him. Cuteness is contagious!

Keeping up with the Snails

Life seems to have come to a screeching halt around here. Sleep is my friend and sitting on the couch runs a close second! My hips are all loosey-goosey so that it takes me much longer to get from sitting to standing to moving. The contractions have picked up (never fear, though, I NEVER go early!). My sciatic nerve simply refuses to go up and down the stairs or do laundry. I resemble a turtle standing upright with its head on backwards. And heartburn seems to be what's for dessert.

But, I'm not complaining. I know it sounds like I am, but you really can just state facts without truly complaining...to quote the mice (I think) on Babe: "The way things are is the way things are."

Yes, I have moments where I look around the house and feel rather discouraged at my inability to do it all, but as my mother-in-law kindly pointed out tonight, "You're not a health hazard."

I posted recently on my homeschooling blog about days when you are not Superwoman. As I pointed out there, Superwoman is probably long gone for a while and that is okay. In fact, what truly matters these days is that I am spending my waking moments (though they be few and far between) with my children making memories. Tonight, rather than stress about not having all the laundry caught up, I gathered up my little quiver and we made a Thanksgiving/Blessing Tree.



This is a really simple project that even my 10 year old enjoyed doing. Make a trunk out of brown paper or a paper sack, then have all the kiddos (mom and dad can join in as well) trace their hands on construction paper and cut them out. Then, they write things they are thankful for on the fingers and tape them to the tree. They can add to them as they think of more things they are thankful for.

This is the direction I am heading this holiday season. Less stress, more fun activities. By the way, I'm not a holiday basket case and could never understand why people get stressed out this time of year, but I think that may have something to do with the fact that I am a very asthetic person, so the sights and sounds and smells of the holidays are so scrumptious to me, I could breathe them in forever. And what an awesome time to have a baby! Nothing like adding that fresh baby smell to the pine and cinnamon! lol

So, I'll just keep to my snail's pace. The rest of you can run circles around me if you like. I won't hold it against you. ;o)

A Refreshing Weekend

After the week I had last week, I decided to take a bit of a break and regroup.

I use the word "regroup" quite often when speaking of stepping back from things to take a look around and gather up all the bits and pieces of myself that have been spread about from project to project, thought to thought, task to task, circumstance to circumstance.

I know I sound a bit schizophrenic, but in all honesty, as a wife and mother there are times when I am spread very thin to the point where I begin to feel myself crack and bits and pieces of myself begin breaking off, so that when I pull away from a task or problem, I end up leaving a part of myself behind...always mulling it over, always living in that moment, never quite catching back up with the rest of me. The only way for me to bring those bits and pieces back together is to take a break from the everyday life so I can better see where I've been and where I'm going. Sometimes the every day becomes so "every day" that we lose track of where we are really heading because we are simply caught up in the day to day grind. I truly believe a change of pace is good for the mind, body, and soul.

So, this weekend, I took one these sabbaticals from the every day. My husband and I attended a La Leche League conference in a neighboring town. One of the sessions I attended on my own was called Preparing for Birth. Even though this is #6 for us, the circumstances surrounding this baby's birth have created a new scenario for me...one wrought with questions and fears (as I've shared previously). One of these looming questions is how am I going to handle this birth and the emotions that will undoubtedly be there? Something was said in this session that really struck a chord for me and I wanted to share it here.

One of the midwives leading the session talked extensively about different birthing scenarios she had encountered and how each related to being Intellectually, Physically, and/or Emotionally prepared for giving birth. In the story she told concerning a very emotional birth she mentioned that we have to consider who we are when we are our most vulnerable. What are some things we do? Do we pull away from everyone and prefer to be alone? Do we have a select group of friends and family we really need there with us in physical contact? Do we prefer support in the form of someone standing off to the side just being there? Are there certain people we NEVER call on in our times of need? Who are the people you do not mind seeing you at your most vulnerable? What/Who are you most comfortable with when you are feeling emotional?

These are all questions I am going to have to answer. In fact, these are questions my husband is going to have answer as well. We're in this together. This won't just be ME grieving and rejoicing...this will be him as well. So much of what she said made me realize that while I may not be able to map out every detail of this baby's birth (and by her advice no one really should even try), I can prepare in tangible ways for what I feel *may* happen. As she suggested, I have already alerted my OB to my feelings, my husband knows as well and we are working through just what I may or may not need during labor in the way of decisions and support, and now I am reading labor and delivery stories to help me gear up for the inevitable reality that I WILL give birth sometime in the next 6-8 weeks.

This is an exciting time. I must rely on the Lord and the support He sends me to enjoy what time I have left and the actual birthing process. Soon, I will hold a new little one. There will be healing resting in my arms that day. Not a complete healing, not a replacement for Emily, but a gift, a blessing, a very special link in the chain that makes up my life.

I Thought Yesterday Was Rough...

I don't even know if I have the words to describe today...

Today was my hematologist appointment because of the anemia. My husband was supposed to come with me despite his packed schedule. I was worried that the blood draw would leave me exhausted. I was not prepared for what the real issue would be.

Ty emailed me mid-morning and said that he had to go to a meeting he wasn't expecting and would be late coming to the appointment. So, I headed over by myself to the appointment after a quick glance at the map they had enclosed with the paperwork.

Now, from that map, I was well-aware that the place I was going was very near the hospital where Emily had all her surgeries and spent so many weeks. We lived there with her for 4 weeks total from December to January. I knew just having to go near there would be hard, but I thought I could handle it.

However, when I pulled up to the hospital and realized that the building I had to go into was where her surgeon's office was--directly across from the hospital, I began to panic. I tried to stop the sobs, but could not. I cannot control them even now. I almost didn't go in to the building. I thought maybe I could suppress the sadness long enough to go to the appointment, but I could not and finally gave into it and went inside the building with tears running down my cheeks. For the next 2.5 hrs (all through my appointment), I cried.

Little did I know Ty had tried to contact me to tell me that he could not come at all. I was alone...and would stay that way. He had no idea I was in that building. He had no idea I was sobbing through all the memories. Later (after I was home and had slept for a bit), he found out and raced home. He felt awful that I had to do that alone. I felt awful I had to do that alone.

I kept praying God would send Ty. Then, I began begging God to send ANYONE. I didn't want to sit with my thoughts any longer. God heard my prayers and a woman whose hair had all fallen out from her battle with breast cancer, slipped into the chair next to me and grabbed my hand and began talking to me. I could barely get the words out to explain to her why I was so distraught. She listened, she talked, and when it was my turn to go back, she hugged me. I still continued to cry, but I felt like I could breathe again.

My eyes hurt, I'm tired, and my heart is broken. I wish I had something profound to say, but I don't. Sometimes it just hurts.

An Emotional Day ~ A Changing Me

It seems I have more and more emotional days as the birth of this baby draws near.

I knew that I was going to talk to my OB today about my fears and thoughts surrounding this baby's birth, so I was already "in that place" emotionally. I fought and gave into tears off and on all day long. And of course, I cried as I talked with my OB. Through teary-eyes, she told me when I give birth, "We'll all cry...it will be okay."

I still have so many questions and thoughts. I can't even begin to wrap my brain around them. Will my body kick in and do what it needs to do? Will I have scary thoughts and fears during the labor and delivery? Will I be able to be fully engaged in this birth the way I want to be?

On top of all this, the need to choose a headstone for Emmy has been looming large. Every time I go to the cemetery, I find that I ache for my little girl to have a stone that marks her grave...something more than the little plaque they put up the day we buried her. The funeral director recently sent us some samples of headstones, but nothing seems adequate. As I've said before...how do you put all you want to say on a tiny bit of stone? As an online friend so aptly put it, "Choosing a headstone wasn't in the mothering books."

Lynnette at Dancing Barefoot, wrote a post today about her husband bringing her deceased children *home* to a cemetery near their farm...I could do nothing but cry as I read it.

Sometimes I look at myself and think how strange and unlike myself I now am. Who is this woman? Will I ever be *ME* again? Yet, the Lord does not make mistakes. This change in me is who I am now. It has forced me to live transparently. I live more compassionately. I love more fiercely. I have a better grasp on my boundries and limitations. I see more clearly the important things in life.

There are some things I have lost that I pray I'll regain. My intuition being one of those things. I WAS the type of parent who could look at a child and know if he or she was getting sick long before they ever actually got sick. I knew what home remedies to use and when to actually take them in. Now I feel inept. Not because of anything I did or didn't do for Emmy, but because there was NOTHING I could do. I could not "fix" her and no matter how long and hard I stared at her little chest and her closed eyes, I could not will her to breathe again. As a mother, designed by her Creator to nurture and protect, THIS is not something easily gotten past.

And yet, the Lord knows all this about me. He is not oblivious to my fears. None of what we have gone through was an accident. None of what we are going through now is an accident. It is all within His almighty will and all part of the Refiner's fire.

I know for some this is a hard concept. There are days when it is hard for me to understand. I still ask how this could happen to us. More than one time I have found myself for a moment in time thinking maybe it didn't happen, only to find myself face to face with Emily's picture and the knowledge that the reason her picture sits on that little table beneath that little lamp is because I no longer hold her in my arms.

Our entire family is different. There is no denying that we are forever changed. But, I know in my heart that the Lord has something for us in all of this. It may not be revealed to us today or tomorrow or the next day, but "I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in [us] will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil 1:6)

And so, I accept these emotional days and the change in me as part of His plan. And in my human frailty, I cry out to Him. In my affliction, He comforts me.