From my daughter's camera

My 8 year old daughter takes somewhere around 300 pictures a month with her digital camera. Like a good mother of a budding photographer, I regularly upload them to the computer so she can start over with a blank card.

I got a real chuckle out of a few of the pictures I found there. For one thing, there were tons of pictures of flowers and rocks and worms and birds...that's pretty normal for her. I also found a lot of pictures of Lego and playdough creations as well. The bulk majority of the pictures were of her siblings caught in all sorts of candid and staged poses...what a bunch of hams I have living in my house! I also found a few rather interesting photos obviously taken from the confines of the minivan...3 pictures of a dragon hood ornament, 10 pictures of vehicles driving by, a few of rain on the windshield, and several major closeups of each of her siblings!

Uploading her photo card is such a treat! Hope you enjoy some of her treasures as much as I did...



Upside-down kiddos




Little Brother, Big Sister



Backyard Beauty




The Ladybug Whisperer

Funny Girl

Still Frames of our Life

A few years ago while on a family vacation, we became inspired by what we saw through the lense of our digital camera. We had climbed halfway up a mountain with 2 children on our backs and 2 children running (yes, running!) alongside us (and ahead of us and around us...altitude sickness??? What altitude sickness???) Our goal was a waterfall my husband had hiked to with his father as a teenager. I adore waterfalls and was so excited to get up close and personal with one I had only seen in pictures. When we arrived at our destination, I sat down to nurse and breathe in the beauty about me.

We desired to take a piece of that waterfall home with us, so we took photos of the waterfall. We soon realized those photos were much too beautiful to spend their entire lives stuck in a scrapbook, only to be pulled out occasionally. We needed that waterfall, that beautiful memory, to be visible in our home. That little bit of waterfall was a little bit of us.

We had the photo blown up and then took it to Hobby Lobby to find the perfect matte and the perfect frame. This was the result (excuse the glare...should have done this in the daylight!):

After that, we were hooked. Every place we went we searched for a photo op, another piece of our life to hang on our wall. We began replacing paintings of places we'd never been with photographs of places we'd explored as a family. We noticed that people who came to visit us were intrigued by the photos on our walls. They asked questions, wanted to know more, and the photographs began to speak of who we were as a family.

Our love of history...



Our love of God's amazing creations...


And our love of the simple, yet astounding beauty of every day things...


One of these photos became the signature photo of my blog. It was taken during an autumn Sunday outing to a local botanical garden. I was captivated by the beauty of this statue standing amidst dying foliage. Hair, tossed by the wind, armed only with a laundry basket, she faced the world courageously and unashamedly. She was who I wanted to be...content with who I am.


It is amazing to me just how loudly a photograph can speak. Each photo speaks of a different time in our lives. Some were taken in whimisical, carefree times. Some were taken amidst heartache. Others speak of healing and hopes and dreams. All of them speak of the Lord's goodness to His people.

If ever you should come for a visit, take note of our photographs. Listen to their words, ask questions and learn. You will meet a family who's love of the Lord spills over onto their very walls.

The Campfire

As promised, here is the campfire that started it all...

About a week ago, our 11 year old son cut down a bush and a few saplings from our backyard and piled the limbs up near the fence. When we do things like this, we like to have a campfire with the fruit of our labor. It feels like such a reward for a hard day's work.




Blake worked for about an hour prior to starting the fire, cutting the large limbs into smaller, more manageable firewood. We left the fire building up to him and how he thought best to build the fire (after all he did just cross over into our local homeschooling Boy Scout troop).

He decided to build a Teepee Campfire. He later disclosed the reason for his favoritism for this particular kind of fire...it burns higher and brighter and hotter! Such a boy!



As you see here, the basic idea is to place sticks upright in teepee fashion with your kindling in the center. Everyone, including the "littles", pitched in tearing newspaper and gathering twigs to make kindling.




And of course...

the emergency water bucket!

Finally, a roaring fire...

And a little relaxation!

As I look back over the pictures of yet another precious memory devoid of my precious Emmy, I cannot help but see God's hand. There are moments within these new Emmy-less memories that hurt, yet there is still joy. We still smile, we still laugh, we still love. In fact, we may love with even more abandon than ever before.

God has gifted me with 8 children. Two I carried a short time and never met face to face. Six I have met and nurtured and loved. While only 5 remain on this earth under my care, I am still blessed. I am not forsaken. I have life abundant all around.

Just as a campfire starts small, burns bright, and then gradually fades, so is my life. In the end, the question will be,

"Have I provided Light and warmth to others?"

I ought to be doing dishes...

but I'm not.

I'm sitting her after a very long night of coughing and reading blogs and trying to think outside myself, doing the very same thing: coughing and reading blogs and trying to think outside myself.

I was going to post pictures of our campfire last night, but I think my husband may have snatched up the camera before heading to a fundraiser only a few short hours after I finally landed in bed. (did I mention it was a very long night??)

As I sit here, I realize it is all the campfire's fault. While I have some sort of cold, I am sure the campfire only exacerbated the coughing fits. That probably makes plenty of sense to all of you, but what you may be wondering now is how in the world a campfire can be to blame for me reading blogs and trying to think outside myself. Good question.

You see, something about enjoying a sweet time of family fellowship makes the gap where Emily would be even bigger. I sat by that campfire with marshmallow goo on my hands and in my hair (a bit of a breeze and s'mores are not the best combination) watching my children run and play in the dark, holding hands as they spun around until my 4 year old complained of a tummy ache.

And I could see her.

21 months old...scampering about with the rest of them, probably a bit behind because her short little legs can't quite keep up. Her brown, curly hair flowing behind her and her eyes, oh, those eyes, dancing as she giggles, reaching for her brother's hand. Yes, I can see her.

Yet, as quickly as that vision appears, it disappears and I see empty space. There in the dark I see where she would be. I've tried to stop saying "should" be because I know she IS where she "should" be, but my feeble, hurting heart can't help but see the gap. It is the size of a black hole.

This is where the blogs come in. I periodically try to read the blogs of my followers and commenters and then check out some of their favorites as well. Usually this is just light-hearted fun and I end up feeling refreshed. However, last night I stumbled upon blogs that I knew were out there because many of my blogland friends follow them, but they are places I have shied away from because they are just too close to home. They are filled with sick babies and grieving mothers and I wasn't sure I could do that yet.

However, that is where I found myself last night; pouring over blogs with sick babies and grieving mothers and trying to force myself to think outside myself.

You see, I feel as though I can offer empathy and say something about the Lord blessing them through all their trials, but I can't go any deeper than that. When I look at these children, I see Emily. The tubes and wires and the medical terms all hit home and I sit there and remember and the gap gets wider and blacker. Then there are the pictures of little ones with eyes closed and that look about them that unmistakably speaks death and the gap consumes me.

So, I sat there last night (and again this morning) trying to think outside myself. Trying to move beyond my own grief and read these stories and feel something other than my own hurt.

It makes me wonder if I'll ever be any use to anyone else who is grieving. Deep down I know I will. These feelings come in cycles. There are days where the gap doesn't hurt as bad. Those days I am able to wholeheartedly rejoice that Emily's safe and well in the Lord's arms. But on the days when the gap is pitch black and threatening to overtake me, I have a harder time thinking beyond myself and a harder time rejoicing in my loss. What a strange thing this grief is.

So, while my dishes threaten to rot in the sink, I continue to sit here trying to decide if I am ready for someone else's grief. Wondering if I can set aside my own heart when and if the time comes. Knowing the Lord is gracious and will not hand me that opportunity without equipping me for it. Someday.

BabyLegs for the Cheapskate

There are some knifty little things out on the baby market called BabyLegs. They are basically toe-less socks that you put on baby's legs (or arms) to keep them warm, give them padding when they crawl, make diaper changes easier, or simply as a fashion statement. Ever since I was first introduced to the concept of BabyLegs, I've been fascinated and well... envious. They are so stinkin' cute! But wowser, the price tag for glorified leg warmers didn't jive well with my thriftiness!

As you know, there is a website for everything under the sun, and my favorites are those sites that tell me how to do it myself. If the instructions are clear enough (ie. enough pictures!), then I try it. Well, these instructions couldn't be easier!

I bought used socks at Goodwill for $.99 a pair after a failed attempt at WalMart and Whiz! Bang! in 5 minutes flat, I was the proud owner of a pair of knock-off BabyLegs!

And here's my adorable model in an argyle pair...





Cute! Cute!

This past weekend he wore a brown pair to a nearby homeschool convention and I had a ton of people stop me to ask about them. I just love it when I can say, "Made 'em myself...and YOU CAN TOO!!!!"

This post is linked to:

Au Naturale

Many years ago, a dear friend of mine shared what she was learning about nutrition in her Bradley class. It was then I began to make changes in my own diet and way of doing things. We began substituting whole wheat flour for half the flour in our bread recipe. We switched to fructose instead of regular sugar (we were told this was good for us since it was a "fruit" sugar...we've since been enlightened otherwise), and began using sea salt. These were simple and easy to do changes.

I also began to can and perserve regularly. Our landlord lived next door and was something of a renaissance man. He had a large garden and was more than willing to share a bit of land with us and teach me to perserve and make more whole food recipes. All he asked in exchange was that some of my cooking would make its way next door to him. ;)

Then we moved. It took me a bit to ease into my new region (and I'm sorry to say I never did take full advantage of all that was available there), but soon I had met people who helped me learn new things about eating better and using what was around me. We switched to a new bread recipe that was all whole wheat and began using Prairie Gold flour. We exchanged our teflon for cast iron and went to stoneware exclusively for baking. We found a raw milk source and added homemade butter and fresh cream to our diet. I switched from fructose to raw honey and raw organic sugar and got my first taste of demerara (but didn't use it real often). We began to take elderberry juice concentrate (not nearly as often as we should, though) and for a time, I took chlorophyll. I also began ordering from a local Frontier Coop for a lot of household needs and I switched to cloth diapers.

Then we moved again. This time to the city. Let me just say city life changes things. One thing it changed in a very bad way was my eating out addiction (and my soda addiction). It was all much to readily available.

Between the time of Emily's last surgery and her going Home, I began talking with my friend Lynnette about some new natural things I had not tried before. Lynnette had brought our family many yummy organic snacks while we were in the hospital and I wanted to continue that step in the right direction. However, Emily's death threw me into a tailspin and I could not cook let alone cook healthy. I was barely out of the fog before I found myself pregnant and dealing with morning sickness. Throughout the pregnancy it was all I could do just to keep the status quo and of course your babymoon is no time to start something new, so now that I am 3.5 months postpartum, I feel the niggling urge once again to address the issues I left behind.

But, where to start?!?

I decided to go back to a forum I spent a brief amount of time on before Emily's death called Cooking Traditional Foods. I would highly recommend this forum! These ladies are a wealth of knowledge! I've also been going back through my Nourishing Traditions book (right now I am very overwhelmed by this book!) and my Whole Foods for the Whole Family cookbook. There are also some great recipes in the MOMYS Cookbook (currently out of print--the message on this site is old).

Today, via instructions from my Whole Foods cookbook, I started some sourdough. This is something my husband has been intrigued by for several years now due to his mountain man fascination (more on that another day!). So, I've got that going and hope to make some things with it this week. I'm learning about soaking grains and I am trying to find a reliable raw milk source as well. I've begun making our peanut butter and I'm taking some new supplements (see Feelin' Frumpy post) I am also trying to talk myself into replacing my soda addiction with a love for water (pray for me...this is not an easy one!)

I have a good 20 pounds of excess weight on me, so my desire to change things is very much fueled by a desire to lose weight, but I also see where we Americans have very little food that is in its natural state anymore. Documentaries like King Corn and Super Size Me really brought that to my attention.

What we put in our bodies matters. My body is supposed to be a temple for the Lord, not an artery-clogged fast food restaurant. What I eat matters because it says a lot about me. It tells whether I am dying to self or feeding my greed. A food addiction is scary and dangerous; it is harder to control because we must eat to live. Most addictions do not require you to continue to use the source of your addiction day in and day out.

But, I also believe that much of what fuels our addiction are the addictive additives that have become our way of life. If I learn to bring my foods back to a more natural state, I hope to find that food has less of a pull on me.

And so begins the next level of my au naturale journey! I'd love to hear about changes you have made or are making to eat and live more naturally.

May the words of my mouth and what I put in it glorify the Lord Who provides our earthly food.

The Zoo

Sometimes my home feels like a zoo! There are monkeys on the furniture, alligators in the bathtub, and hyenas at the dinner table. Believe it or not, one of my family's favorite Day-Out spots is the real zoo!

Yesterday, we took a trip to the zoo for the first time this year. It was a beautiful day and most of the animals were out in full-fashion.

We had a picnic lunch served by a gracious 4 year old hostess.

We always enjoy feeding the locals.

And Micah enjoyed his very first outing to the zoo!

I remember another zoo outing...

When Emily was just 2 months old in September of 2007, a friend came to visit with her 3 daughters and we took our 8 children to the zoo. I brought my double stroller for Emmy and my then 1 year old son, Keian. However, within minutes of hitting the gates of the zoo, the rear wheel of the stroller came off!

I put it back on, but my temporary fix was just that...extremely temporary. A few rotations later, the wheel was off again and I began to envision a trip to the zoo that involved me replacing a stroller wheel every 5 steps.

I quickly realized that would make for a less than enjoyable afternoon and trotted off to rent a horribly expensive, less than baby friendly, uncomfortably hard plastic zoo stroller. While I was standing in line at the rental place lamenting what this was going to cost me and trying to figure out how to make my baby girl as comfortable as possible, my son came running up to tell me my friend Carrie had hailed down a maintenance worker who thought he could fix the stroller. Yeehaw!

I return to 2 maintenance workers drilling a hole in my stroller and putting the wheel on with a cotter pin. It worked beautifully and we spent the rest of the day playing at the zoo!

Those 2 maintenence workers went above and beyond. They took what was well on its way to being a stressful situation and made this mama's life much easier. I truly believe they were an answer to prayer dressed in coveralls.

Tending Her Grave

Both Ty and I have been grieving a little deeper these past few weeks. It seems to go in cycles. We hurt and then the pain eases for a while.

Resurrection Sunday definitely lifted our spirits as we thought about the truth that our Lord had conquered death long ago. Because of His sacrifice we are not drowning in our sorrows...we have hope! Someday we will see her again!

But, for now we are left with a grave to tend.

I think of how the women went to tend Jesus' grave and found He was not there. Truly, Emily is not there, but it is the site where her tiny body is buried and a place where we can go and honor her memory.

I feel very close to God there. I feel His presence there as we pray and remember.


Her short life was wrought with many circumstances that brought Ty and I to our knees more than once. We could do nothing but rely on the Lord to keep us moving forward...one foot in front of the other...one step at a time. Surely, this is way we should live our lives every day, not just in times of crisis.

Crisis has a way of reminding us that we are not in control and we need a firm foundation in order to run the race set before us. So, despite the awful pain of losing Emmy, I am so thankful that I have come to the place where I can do nothing but cry out to God and let Him carry me.

I continue to surrender on a daily basis. When I do not choose to surrender, I find myself frantic, which leads to an inescapable weariness. I feel as though I am searching for something I will never find. It is imperative I keep my eyes and heart turned toward the Light, so the shadows do not consume me.

For those of you wondering, no, we have not chosen a gravestone as yet. We continue to struggle with how to say all you want to say on a bit of stone.

This weekend, we did put up the Spring wreath to replace the winter one at Emily's grave. My friend Cis added the shepherd's hook recently so we can put potted plants or wind chimes up. We'd like to have Ty's dad make us a metal butterfly to hang from there as well. The wind is atrocious out there, so we'll need something that will stay put.

Notice the lamb with the flowers underneath the wreath? That was a thrift store find I could not pass up. I saw it and kept thinking how nice that would be. I even left the store before realizing I would regret not buying it for her grave. It looked precious out there and I am thankful I went back and purchased it.

Her gravesite is now all spruced up for Spring. It made me smile to see all the beauty out there. And that green, green grass... *sigh*

A Glorious Day

The cross is empty.

The grave is empty.

Hallelujah!

He is Risen!

I pray all of you enjoyed a wonderful Resurrection Sunday, worshipping Jesus, our Savior, whom death could not hold!

A Little Bit of Fancy

FANCY

ADJECTIVE

ornamental; decorative; not plain:

Her mei tai is fancy.

About a year ago, a gorgeous piece of embroidered blue silk caught my eye on the clearance shelf at a local retailer. On a whim, I bought 1 yard of it. This was all I could justify spending since even on clearance, it wasn't cheap by my standards.

I knew from the moment I laid eyes on it, it would someday be the front panel of a mei tai. Yet, it would take a very special complimentary fabric to make this work. I owned no such fabric.

So, for a year I have been scouring clearance bins and shelves for a fabric that had just the right look, just the right weight, and just the right amount of yardage. I finally found it!

Gold damask and blue embroidered silk makes for one very FANCY mei tai!

Oh, and one last picture...

Micah's latest shoes...

Micah-moccs!

How Egg-citing!

We've been celebrating this week! We decided to forgo traditional scholastic pursuits in favor of reading through Holy Week in the Bible, working on a Scripture Scene for John 10, and enjoying various other Resurrection Sunday type activities. There have been some years where we've participated in a Passover supper, but not this year. On Good Friday and Saturday, we'll be with family. And on Sunday, we'll be enjoying the day with friends.

One common tradition during this time of year is to dye eggs. Believe it or not, we have NEVER dyed eggs during Holy Week as a family. I think I did it once as a kid with my mom and my husband says he remembers doing it with his Granny, but for some reason, we've never done this as a family. So, today a new tradition began!

I picked up one of those little kits last week for $1.99 and bought some white eggs (Sorry, can't bring myself to use my organic eggs for such a venture! Besides, they are brown and I don't think they'd take the color too well)

Even the 3 year old joined the fun!

It takes concentration in order to get just the right color.

Everyone took turns dipping their eggs.

We used shrink-wraps too...this was a before picture, but who can resist that adorable face?

"Bassett" dressed up as a bunny next to Megan's egg.

Dinner with an Astronaut

How many times in your life can you say you've had dinner with an astronaut?! Not very many...unless you are our friend, Chris Orwoll, the CEO of the Kansas Cosmosphere and Space Center. Last Saturday night he invited us to join in dinner and conversation with a former shipmate, Steve Bowen, who also just happens to be an astronaut! What a blast! (pun intended!)

Feelin' Frumpy

I don't know what it is, but I am feeling frumpy. I've not lost all the pregnancy weight, but I can wear most of my pre-pregnancy clothes. You would think that would make me feel pretty good, but no...I still feel frumpy.

I imagine some of it is the fact that I'm losing hair now due to hormones. I never had that happen until my 3rd child. Since then, it's been every single child and for months on end. I now perpetually live with "stickin' up hair" as my 8 year old daughter calls it...little bitty hairs, many of them grey, that stick up all over my head!

Or maybe I need to drink more water. I've always needed to drink more water. After Emily was born, I tried to make a concerted effort to drink more water. I even started an accountability thread on MOMYS designed to encourage me to drink my quota for the day. It worked fairly well, but once again, I find I am lacking in that department.

Quite possibly, it is my lack of sleep. Many nights I just am not sleeping. This has been going on for about a month now. It's worse when I've forgotten to take my B vitamins. I used to have serious sleep issues when I was younger, but hadn't dealt with too much outside of pregnancy in years. My mind is working overtime, especially at night when I have the luxury of quiet solitude. I need to be diligent with my vitamins so I am prepared for my wake-up call the next morning (otherwise known as 5 talkative children climbing into bed with me!)

I've also considered the possibility that my clothes are just frumpy in and of themselves. It's been a long time since I bought anything new because every time I consider it, a voice in the back of my head says, "But someone might spit up on you!" or, "You might get grease on it and ruin it!" And sadly, the voice is right. No matter how careful I am, I truly am a human napkin. Maybe I should invest in some high powered stain remover and get myself a few new outfits?

But that brings me to another thought...I don't know how to dress my mama-shaped body. Someone somewhere needs to teach a class on such things. I'm surely not the only one in this world who can't figure out how to put together an outfit that compliments (or hides) my new curves. Someone out there in blogland needs to blog about this, pretty please!

So, that's my quest...find a way to stop feeling frumpy. I would welcome any thoughts, suggestions, blog posts, pictures, etc that would assist me on this quest! Thanks!

My Birthing Journey

11 years ago, I delivered my first child via cesarean section at 3:02 pm. I had been in labor for 24 hours, but nothing particularly noteworthy until that morning at about 10:30 am. I had already been in the hospital for 5 hours and was going nowhere dilation-wise and beginning to be in serious pain. I was given an ultimatum--dilate by 1pm or begin prepping for a c-section. I was devastated.

In 2000, when I became pregnant with our 2nd child, I began scouring the internet for resources on Vaginal Birth After Cesarean (VBAC) and came across the International Cesarean Awareness Network (ICAN). I was desperate to birth the way women had been birthing for centuries. Finding ICAN was vindication.

Thus began my quest to find a doctor to take me on. Thankfully, the search was short and close to home. A doctor in the town where I delivered my first child was reported to have an awesome VBAC rate. She was more than willing to let me try.

For my first VBAC I did opt to be induced early. I know many would question this, but at the time I was willing to try anything and going from an 8# 15oz boy to a 7# 7oz girl was worth the risk of pitocin. However, dilation stalled out at 2 cm once again. This time no one gave me an ultimatum.

Although I had really wanted to go med-free, I decided to take the epidural. I didn't know what it would do, but I had to try something, anything to keep going. Amazingly, that began dilation. At 5:00 am, I pushed my baby daughter into this world! I was elated!

It was nearly 4 years before I would get the opportunity to VBAC again. In that amount of time, VBAC rules became stringent and rates fell. My doctor and her partner were the only doctors in that hospital willing to continue VBACing.

I asked a lot of my doctor during this birth. I declined the induction which meant she was at the mercy of my labor since the new rules stated she had to stay in the hospital for the entire labor. The new rules also strongly encouraged induction. I had to sign papers stating I was doing something against the grain that could potentially kill me. The anesthesiologist also had to stay on site since the hospital was not large enough to have an anethesiologist there 24 hours a day.

Still desperately wanting to avoid meds, I tried to figure out why I did not dilate until the epidural was in place. I was stumped, but not deterred from trying once again. I had proven I could VBAC, now I wanted to prove I could do it med-free.

My unpreparedness and a sunny-side-up 9# 14oz baby girl kept that from happening. But, I did have yet another VBAC under my belt.

A short 7 months later I was pregnant again. During this pregnancy, I lost my resolve to birth naturally. Still choosing to decline the induction, we watched my due date come and go. The morning after my due date, labor started in with my husband 3 1/2 hours away! Calm, cool, and collected man that he is, he decided to finish up what he was doing before making the trek back across the state to take little ole me to the hospital. Because of this, I learned how to birth med free.

No, it wasn't because he didn't make it on time; although, I did begin to wonder. It was because a friend of mine came to pick me up and take me to her house for a massage while I waited. She had had 2 Bradley births and as she massaged my back and belly through contractions, she gave me a crash course in relaxation techniques. The contractions picked up and I was still under control. However, once in the car on the way to the hospital, I was not so sure I could continue without the meds. Between contractions (now coming every 3 mins), I told my husband how my friend had rubbed my belly with each contraction and how it had kept my pain under control. "Can you do that??" I begged. He affirmed that he could.

And he did! After only 3 hours in the hospital, I VBACed our 4th child med-free into the hands of my husband! Both my husband and my doctor were profoundly instrumental in my accomplishing this. And of course, I am forever indebted to my friend.

My doctor, my husband and myself were all on Cloud 9 following baby's birth. My OB gave us a tour of the placenta at our request and came back the next day to reminisce with us. It was an amazing experience and finally, I felt whole again.

It took me 8 years and 3 VBACs to heal from a 6 inch scar.

It was only a short time later, I discovered I was pregnant again...Baby #5. After my experience with #4, I just assumed I would do it just like that. WRONG. Baby was stubborn about dropping into position. She flipped constantly, but finally landed head down the day before I went into labor. However, as labored started, I felt something was very wrong. My sides hurt tremendously. I could hardly move. And I didn't feel as though I was dilating. I finally decided we needed to go in.

When we got to Labor & Delivery, the nurse checked me and said, "I can't feel the baby." WHAT?! Those of you who know me personally know I don't hide babies. I'm the size of a house...trust me, there's a baby in there. But nonetheless, baby didn't seem to be where she was supposed to be. My doctor confirmed via ultrasound that baby was transverse breech .

Knowing my passion for VBACing, my OB offered two options: 1) C-section or 2)A version in the operating room under a full epidural. We took the second option and prayerfully and tearfully headed to the OR. While my OB leaned against my side, my husband prayed out loud right there in the OR that baby would turn. When we opened our eyes, my doctor said, "Something looks different. Get the sono machine!" Sure enough, there was baby Emily, head down. Doctor quickly broke my water to keep her in place and after some observation, we headed back to my labor suite. My doctor gave me the option of letting the epidural run out, but as I began to feel pain again, I did not think I could take it lying down, so to speak. The epidural and the stress had left me exhausted and numb. I had them keep the epidural in place and I proceeded to sleep through my entire labor. For the first time ever, I pushed without being able to tell I was pushing. But, it was all worth it as I VBACed for the 4th time a precious baby girl.

Seven months later, rather than anticipating another pregnancy, we had to set our minds to mourning the loss of our little Emily.

Amidst our grief, came a positive pregnancy test. We spent the next 9 months rejoicing and grieving simultaneously. And I wondered...my heart was broken...was my body?

I told my doctor I had to FEEL this birth. I was so medicated during Emily's birth that I felt nothing. I knew I needed to feel all the emotions and all the pain it would take to birth this child.

However, this pregnancy began to mirror Emily's. Baby did not want to stay head down. Finally, after going a week past my due date with no decent contractions and no success at keeping baby in the head down position, we opted to do a version and induce the morning of New Year's Eve. The rest of this long, drawn out story can be found HERE. But, suffice it to say, I did feel 17 hours worth of pain, but I did not push my little Micah into his daddy's hands and into this world. On New Year's Day at 12:18 am (yes, he was the first New Year's Baby in town!), my beloved OB reopened my 11 year old scar and pulled my 10# 6oz son from my womb.

But, this time it was different. I did not feel cheated. I did not feel angry. I had birthed 4 babies vaginally. I had had one fully med-free birth and another as far as I could humanly take it.

That day I began a new journey. Baby Micah is the last child of ours my doctor will ever deliver. That thought makes me heart sick (although I secretly hope she'll come visit us in the hospital when and if the Lord blesses us again.) Finding a doctor willing to VBAC in this day and age is a difficult task. We were blessed with an OB who not only took on the challenge, but became my biggest champion. We'll call her if another positive pregnancy test is in our future and she'll help us search out a doctor.

Will I VBAC again? Can I manage to Vaginally Birth After TWO Cesareans (also known as VBA2C)? These are all questions without answers right now. Only time will tell where my birthing journey leads from here.