my birthday do-over

Yesterday I had a birthday do-over, of sorts.

It involved using the new dishes I bought with my birthday money (thanks, Mama, Daddy, Mom and Dad!)...

...a couple games with a newly-minted 8-year-old...

...a delicious Prime Rib dinner...

...and time stepping out with my beautiful family.  Priceless!

and now he is 8

Our dearest Kyle is turning 8 today!  In honor of the event (though actually he's felt even older than 8 for awhile now...), I thought I'd post his birth story here on the blog.  I promise that I won't do it for every child's birthday, every year, but sometimes it's a sweet way to mark the occasion.

We love you, Kyle!  You are a wonderful kid, smart, loyal, honest, and an amazing big brother.  Have a brilliant birthday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyle Warren
September 26, 2005
5:15 A.M.

On Sunday, my contractions began to feel more like powerful menstrual
cramps than the tightening sensations they had been before By 10 P.M. my husband
and I were pretty certain that this was It. We called our midwife and the
birth team headed right over. We also called our parents. By 11 P.M. or so
the team was assembled, and at around 11:45 my in-laws arrived.

Around 12:15 or so I requested a vaginal exam. The suspense was killing
me! I was 5 cm and 100% effaced, and my midwife said I was far enough along
that I could get into the tub whenever I wanted. (My husband had started filling
it after we made our phone calls at 10.) I relaxed through a few more
contractions, then decided to get in. My husband joined me after a few minutes,
and we labored together through most of the night. We were doing so well
as a unit that the birth team mostly hung out in the other room. Every
30 minutes someone came to check baby's heart tones, both during
contractions and not. During contractions I let my whole body float on
top of the water. It really helped, especially with the imagery of
"floating over a contraction."

I think it was maybe around 3:45 or 4:00 A.M. that the contractions started
to feel pretty overwhelming. Between that and my oh-so-lovely vomiting
episode (thank goodness we were prepared for that, having remembered
what happened in my last labor), my husband & I were pretty sure were hitting
transition. When I would be working through a contraction, I would think
"This is so hard, I don't know if I can do this," but after the
contractions would end, I would remember that was classic transition.

A little while later, I could literally feel myself opening up, and soon
I said "I feel like pushing." My husband was surprised (I never felt the urge my
my last labor) but kept his cool and called the birth team. I decided to
try getting on my knees and leaning my arms and forehead on the edge of
the tub. The pushing stage seemed like an eternity-- so I was shocked later,
when I found out that I only pushed about 25 minutes. Quite a change
from my last labor, where the pushing stage lasted almost 2 hours!!

The time came. We could feel the baby's head. Even though I nearly
panicked a few times, I remembered to use low tones pretty consistently.
Soon the baby's head was born, and then the rest of him came slipping
out too.

We had someone wake our 2 1/2-year-old son, so he could come and meet his
baby brother. He was pretty sleepy, but I'm glad we included him in the
moment.

Kyle began nursing like it's what he was born to do with his life(a huge
relief considering the bumpy start I got off to with our first baby) and was ruddy and healthy. He weighed 8 lb 2 oz, and was 21 inches long. He is
such a joy to our family!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a new start

Aprons and I have a checkered past.  I wear them a lot.  A lot.  Primarily because:  (1) I am an extraordinarily messy cook, and (2) I spend a lot of time working in the kitchen.  So in order to protect my clothes, an apron is definitely in order.  

Plus, I've found that during my clumsy pregnancies, an apron doubles nicely as a bib.

Back to my history with aprons.  I've had some very cute ones in the past, but for unknown reasons, they always seem to end up getting ripped.  Yes, ripped.  I don't even know how it happens.  I just discover holds, tears...rips.  My last apron didn't even last two months before it looked like it ought to be made into rags.

Sadness.

After my last attempt (an adorable red number with white polka dots) I waited awhile, but then I started shopping around again.  I'm a little bit particular about aprons, but I found a few that I really liked and put them on my wishlist.

Lo and behold, I received one as a birthday gift!

Isn't it cute?!

The material is a bit heavier than the aprons I've had in the past, so I have reason to believe that this will be a bit more sturdy, a bit more durable.  Maybe it will stand the test of time...I sure hope so!

So here I am beginning again with another apron, ready to take on a myriad of kitchen projects.  Birthdays, fall goodies, Christmastime.  May the "citrus stripes" protect my wardrobe and bring cheer to those around me!

a milestone

(photo courtesy of my almost-8-year-old)

Well hello there, 3rd trimester!  So nice to see you!

worst. birthday. ever.

This year, my birthday started off with a great deal of promise.  It was a crisp (almost) autumn day, and the sun was shining.  We didn't have to go anywhere - always a bonus for this homebody - although we were planning to go out for dinner in the evening.

But then, I had a child who was coughing.  Actually there were two of them.  One whose job it was to set the table for breakfast, and he apparently felt so badly that I let him lay on the couch and rest.  The other cough-er was my toddler, who is almost always difficult as I'm prepping breakfast anyway.  And so, I found myself doing extra chores with a fussy toddler on my hip.  Then I noticed that my back was hurting.

But things didn't really get bad until just after lunchtime. Suddenly I was coping with horrible muscle spasms in my back.  This was a nearly paralyzing pain, which rendered me pretty much incapable of doing...anything.  I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty.  In fact, it was all fairly ugly.  I'm pretty sure I put up more of a fuss than I do during labor - first stage, anyway. (*wink*)

Still, it was terrible pain.  I could do very little for myself, and it took Jeff and I a good 20 minutes to figure out how to get me off the couch...it just hurt so much.  

And that's how the day went.  Gone were our plans to go out for a celebratory dinner.  My only goal at that point was to avoid or minimize the pain as much as possible.

So obviously, that aspect of my birthday stank.

But there were sweet moments, too.

My oldest son was very concerned.  He stayed very close to me during the afternoon, calling his dad (who was coming home early, but didn't get home for a few hours after my distress began) and helping me as much as he could.  At one point in the afternoon, he asked if he could pray for me.  So precious!

My daughter patted my arm, smiled reassuringly, and said, "It will be okay, Mama.  It will be okay."  I wonder how she might do as a sort of child-doula...?

And then there is my sweet husband.

I cannot even begin to tell all the selfless things he did during my time of back trouble.  He helped me use the bathroom.  He convinced me that moving (off of the couch...onto the bed...) would be a good thing, even if it did hurt to bend myself.  He helped me maneuver in and out of the bathtub, which was torturous.  He served us all meals and took care of the kids.   Time after time, he blew me away.

And that's just Thursday.  There was so much more that he did over the next few days.  He was amazing.  A rock star.

He brought me flowers.  And then moved them to where I was throughout the weekend, so I could enjoy them even while stranded on the couch.

There was a lot of time to read and watch "Call the Midwife" on Netflix.  So there was that....silver linings and all.

But yeah...not the best birthday.  In fact, it may actually be my worst, though the one when I turned 19 was pretty lousy too.

(I haven't even mentioned the fact that I couldn't have a real birthday cake this year, although there are certainly worse things to endure.)

I lived through one of those "worse things," though, and I came out on the other side.  With the grace of God and the love of my family, I survived.

Next year, it will be different.  Lord willing, it will be different!

this is telling

I must really love these kids...

...to set up yet another art project (that makes three in the last three school days), when I am such a craftaphobic mama.  

But you've gotta go with what speaks to them, right?

Viola

My grandparents and I on my 1st birthday

Today is my grandma's birthday.   I woke up thinking about her.  Our birthdays are very close, and sometimes we would celebrate them together.

My grandmother died quite a few years ago, a month before I turned 13.  She has been with Jesus for awhile now, and the sadness of missing her has mellowed into sweet memories.  I still remember her smile, her voice.  Eating toast with strawberry jam.  Roast beef with mashed potatoes, carrots, and creamed corn after church on Sunday.  How she used to pinch my brother's cheek and grin and call him her "boyfriend."  The way my dad's loud sneezes would always startle her and make her jump.

It wasn't until later in the day that I realized something: today marks 100 years since my grandma was born.  One. Hundred. Years.  I wonder what the weather was like, what the birth was like. What life was like for their family. I wonder if her parents chose her name, Viola Pearl, after much discussion,,, or if the decision was simple, as they sometimes are.

I wish I had known her longer, into my adult years.  I wish she could have met my husband, my children.

But she will someday.  Maybe she's been privy to the events of my life from her everlasting home in heaven...or maybe we'll simply have a lot to catch up on once I get there.

Regardless, here's a Happy 100th Birthday to you, Grandma. Enjoy your celebration; I'm sure the parties up there are absolutely breathtaking!

Until we meet again,