Scariest Moment of My Life

Around noon on Valentine's Day I got a call from daycare that Alex had a fever of 100.0 and needed to be picked up. He had had a cough for awhile, but hadn't been congested in several days. Still, we go to the doctor. The doctor said that he had Bronchiolitis and probably had RSV seems how we both had some cold symptoms. We did a breathing treatment in the office and the doc sent us home with our own little nebulizer and Alburol script so that we could treat him at home. She seemed confident that he would be better and able to return to daycare on Monday.

This is Roscoe Frog, Alex's nebulizer.
All the cool kids have one. ;)

Things go well Thursday and most of Friday. His breathing was rather labored but the treatments seemed to help. Friday I was getting us ready to go pick up Philip from the airport (he had been in California for business) and before doing Alex's breathing treatment I did a respiration count. He took 58 breaths in one minute and 61 the next. I called the on call doc and she said to do his treatment and if it helps, just keep an eye him, if it doesn't, he'll have to go to the hospital.

I already had his treatment set up so I sat down with him and we go started. He hated it. This loud machine was blowing stuff in his face and this big green thing (the mask) was always in front of him. He squirmed and kicked and fought. The nurse had said that they just more medicine that way because they take more breaths. Well, as he's kicking and screaming and coughing, his eyes started to roll back. I immediately called my mom (she used to be a peds nurse) who told me to take him straight to the emergency room.

I already had the diaper bag next to the car seat for us to leave. I grabbed my keys and as I started to put Alex into his car seat, he turned grey. (My heart is pounding as I type this.) I rubbed on his little chest and his color came back. He started screaming at me again (lately he has hated getting into his car seat). I grabbed the diaper bag and ran out to the car. Later I realized that I hadn't locked the door.

I broke every possible traffic law on the way to the hospital and bottomed out coming over a few hills (no damage to the car). Alex was crying. A few blocks from the hospital he went silent. No cries. No wimpers. No little Alex jabber. I don't know that I ever prayed so hard that a baby would cry.

When I got to the hospital (probably less than three minutes from when I called my mom), I went to get Alex out and he was as white as a ghost. I rubbed his chest and he woke up looking pretty startled and out of it. I ran him into the ER and handed him over the counter to the nurse as I told her that he had Bronchiolitis and had turned grey. She took him straight back.

A few minutes later they let me back to his exam room. I texted a friend to go pick up Philip from the airport. Once they had assessed Alex and saw that he okay, they had me sit on the guerny and hold him. They tested him for RSV and it came back positive. They did a breathing treatment and X-ray in the ER. Philip got there just before they put in Alex's IV and sent us up to Pediatrics.

The doctor and the nurse think that Alex had so much thick mucus in his lungs that when he was coughing during the breathing treatment a piece go lodged in his airway. He was admitted and we spent Friday through Tuesday at Hendricks.

He had two types of breathing treatments every 4 hours: a saline solution to help break up the mucus and the Alburol to help open up his lungs. The respiratory nurses also did chest precussions to help loosen it all up. They did eventually start an IV to keep him hydrated so that he didn't have to eat as his stats seemed to dip while he drank.

He's doing much better now. He's still wheezing and sometimes breathing heavy, but that could continue for up to a month. He's likely to develop asthma now and we've been warned that he could wheeze with any respiratory illness in the next year.

Through it all, he only acted "sick" for about a day. He's been a little extra fussy the last few days but he's also drooling like a hounddog so I think he's getting some teeth in. He's such a strong little guy and I am so blessed to be his mommy.

Alex playing with his yellow block in the hospital.
He still used his IV hand to play so I had to give him toys he didn't have to grasp.

10 Signs You Are Addicted to Cloth Diapers

1. Stuffing and putting away diapers is your form of nightly meditation.
2. Your baby's changing table is your "happy place".
3. You pick out your child's outfit for the next day based on what color diapers he or she has clean.
4. When you see a mom buying disposables at Wal-mart you have to bite your tongue to keep from saying "You don't have to live like this."
5. You spend your lunch hour shopping for just one diaper cover.
6. When you have a pregnant friend your first question is "Are you going to cloth?" and not "When are you due?"
7. When you see a baby you think "I have the perfect diaper for that outfit."
8. You can never have enough diapers, and your husband has accepted this fact.
9. You just ordered diapers and already have a list of the diapers you want to buy next.
10. You wrote a blog post on ten signs that you are addicted to cloth diapers and every single one is true for you.

I might have a problem... But at least it's a colorful one!

Birth Plans- Put It In Writing!

Sorry! This post has moved! It can now be found here: http://amothersteachings.com/2013/01/31/birth-plans-put-it-in-writing/

Hungry, Hungry Baby

I'm writing this to honor a wonderful time of my baby's life, to celebrate how far we have come, and to help other moms who may have been where we were. I write this knowing that there are people out there who will think less of me as a mother for what I'm about to say, but I write it anyways because it's our story and I am not ashamed of it.

Getting his suppliment at four weeks. His little face was so skinny.

I have not pumped or breastfed Alex since Friday and I am not going to again. He's happy and healthy and it's been a journey to get him there.

When Alex was born I was dead set on him being exclusively breastfed. I was going to be one of these awesome moms who just whips out a boob and feeds him no matter where we are until he decided otherwise. I was going to pump at work so much that I could feed him and donate extra milk. At least, that's what I thought.

Alex learned to latch pretty quickly in the hospital though we did have to use the nipple shield to give him enough to hold onto. When he was hungry and wanting to eat, he'd go at it like a champ, but he wasn't often interested and didn't really want to nurse for very long. The nurses assured me that this was ok. Newborns are like that sometimes.

The day he was circumsized was a very busy day at the hospital. We had family and friends visit and Alex was alert and looking at everyone who held him. But he didn't ever seem hungry. He didn't eat, or attempt to eat, for over six hours. Then he was hungry, tired, and over stimulated, and he wouldn't latch for the life of me. The nurse at the hospital was great and worked with us for an hour and half, but he just wouldn't nurse. Finally, she said that he needed to eat and we should probably give him a little formula. He down those two ounces!

The next day the nurse said that we needed to get him to latch without the nipple shield. For some reason using the nipple shield was bad. (I still don't know why it was so terrible.) Well, we worked at it and he got to where he'd latch about half the time, but still didn't nurse for very long.

We went home without the nipple shield, after all, the nurse said it was bad. My milk came in the night we got home. I felt like this was the best thing ever. Finally I knew that Alex was going to be eating! Not only did I feel engorgment but I could see good white milk coming out. Alex however wasn't so thrilled.

Alex fought against the breast. I mean he FOUGHT! This little boy was so strong that I was worried I would hurt him trying to get him to latch. Several times I would give up and sit there and sob while he screamed. He was hungry and I had milk for him, but he just wouldn't even come close to try. We had to start making him some formula every now and then as he simply wasn't eating.

We finally went out and got a nipple shield at Target after the lactation specialist convinced me that the one time he got a bottle in the hospital had given him nipple confusion and supplementing was just making him more confused about how to eat.

Well, he started nursing with the nipple shield and we were down to just one formula bottle a day at his two week visit. At two weeks babies are supposed to be back up to their birth weight. Alex was still three ounces short. It wasn't too much, but we had to go back for a weight check in a week just to be sure he had caught up.

That week he was exclusively breastfed. And he nursed a lot. I spent a few hours each day just nursing him. He went from never wanting to nurse to wanting to  be at the breast so much we were being told to try to hold him off so I'd have time to make more milk. He literally would suck me dry a few times a day and still want more. At the weight check at three weeks, Alex hadn't gain any weight. With all that nursing he was doing, he didn't gain a single ounce of weight.

Then we had to start supplimenting. His lack of weight gain and the doctor saying we needed to suppliment made my heart sink. We had been working so hard for so long. I felt like I had failed as a mother. I fought back tears as I listened to the doc's advice to get his weight back up. The doc said to offer two ounces after every other feeding or if he seemed hungry. She warned that it could lower my supply as it might make him go longer than every two hours for feeds. We started the suppliments and he was a much happier baby. All that fussing he had been doing, he was just hungry. I take that back, he wasn't hungry, he was starving.

After 30-60 minutes of nursing, Alex always seemed hungry. He would eat a full two ounces after each nursing session and be hungry again in less than two hours. At this time I was getting ready to go back to work and started pumping. I was able to get about half an ounce to an ounce after some of his feedings and stored this away for when he'd need it while I'm gone.

Alex had another weight check at four weeks. At this one he had not only gained back his birth weight but an extra ounce as well! That was wonderful news. We were getting him dressed again and getting ready to leave when I looked down at his billing slip and saw the diagnosis code: Failure To Thrive. Those three little words were a huge shock. I knew he was having trouble gaining, but failure to thrive is some serious stuff. Philip reassured me that he would be okay, that we got it figured out and he was doing fine.

I don't know that I've told anyone else about that diagnosis code. I feel like those fifteen letters were somehow stitched in scarlet on my breastplate but only I could see them. At this point Alex was probably getting about 50% formula, 50% breastmilk and I had every breastfeeding mother telling me about how breastmilk was best and formula was so terrible. It was toxic and "venom" and they could never give it to their babies, not knowing what it really was. Everyone put in their two cents about how he needed to be exclusively breastfed until he was at least six months. Even the formula cans have in big bold letters: Breastmilk is best for babies.

I just wanted to scream at every one and any one:

"But my son was starving! Literally starving! Can't you see? Don't you understand? He needs this. I tried. I tried so hard, but he needs the formula."

Alex was primarly formula fed for his second month. I still nursed him when I was home and then gave him formula until he was about six weeks old. That's when his reflux really began to show. He was spitting up everything, even my breastmilk. We changed formulas and I watched what I ate, but it didn't matter, he just kept spitting up. Not only was he spitting up, but he fussed at his bottles and seemed generally uncomfortable any time he was laying down. Finally, we started thickening his bottles. This really seemed to help him keep his formula down, but he was still spitting up after nursing. Well, you can't exactly add rice cereal to your breasts. I started pumping even at home so that he could get thicken breastmilk. However, it was just not realistic to pump as often as I was nursing. My supply started to go down and pretty soon I was pumping for twenty painful minutes to barely get an ounce. Then I decided to just stop pumping and let Alex be formula fed only.

This whole experience has been incredibly trying, but through it all I learned what it means to really be a good mother. Being a good mother doesn't have a damn thing to do with what you feed your babies. Being a good mom isn't dependent upon whether your child nurses from a nipple made of flesh or plastic. Being a good mom means doing what is best for your baby and making sure they are happy and healthy.

I am a good mom. We have a few bags of breastmilk left in freezer but once they're gone, Alex will be exclusively formula-fed. And he will be happy and healthy. He is growing and is so strong. And I will proudly buy those giant cans of formula at SAMs club and mix up his bottles everywhere we go. And I couldn't care less what anyone else has to say about it.

I know there are some moms who will read this and think that I'm a terrible, horrible mother. But there are other moms out there who went through the same thing, or are going through it now, and all those judgemental women are making those moms go through this without any help or support. When you're doing everything you can your baby isn't gaining weight, it's down right terrifying and all those judgemental comments and back handed remarks just make the worry grow even more.

If your baby is having trouble gaining weight, or if you've had to go to formula even though you wanted to breastfeed only: you are not alone, and you are a good mom. Don't let anyone tell you different.

A Mother's Ponderings

This Christmas is my first Christmas as a mother and I am struck by the story of Mary even more so than ever before. I have always been drawn to the simple story of the mother of God and her incredible faith, yet this year I'm struck by the awesome majesty her once plain life would hold.

"But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. " 

Luke 2:19

I look at Alex and see such potential. He could cure cancer, or create a truly unified string theory, or write the next great American novel, or fly to Pluto, or be garbageman of the year... No one knows. He could do anything, be anything and I am blessed to have been there from the time that he was as small as a grain of sand and will anxiously watch him grow for as long as the good Lord sees fit. It is so exciting to see what could become of this little ball of unknown...

But Mary knew. Now it's true, she didn't have all the details, but she knew just how magnificent the child in her womb was. 

"He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob's descendants forever; his kingdom will never end."

Luke 1:32-33

When I was pregnant I started getting rather nervous every time I was in a car. Other drivers just seemed to be incredibly reckless. My road rage was terrible because it felt like every person behind the wheel was completely oblivious to the laws of the road. Behind of all that was the fear that something could happen and my baby could be hurt. That wiggly, then yet-to-be-determined, little life was so precious to me that I would have done anything to keep it safe. And Mary was carrying the Messiah.

Alex might do amazing things, and even if he is as ordinary as ordinary comes, he will always be amazing and precious to me. But Mary's baby was to be the savior of the world. I cannot imagine the immense weight she must have carried knowing that inside her belly was the child of the one true God.

And then to give birth to such a miracle... To hear the first cry of God made flesh. To nurse the savior of the world at your breast. To swaddle up the Messiah and listen to his every coo and whimper as he sleeps. To watch him every day as he learns to roll over and crawl and walk. To hear his first word. To love this child as only a mother can and know that he will serve such a wonderful purpose and have no idea how that purpose would be achieved.

To hear later that he had been arrested. To run to his side and stand powerless and watch as your baby, the child whom you have loved since they were but a speck, is brutally beaten and killed. To wonder where the promises of that angel were now. We know Mary was there but she doesn't sing a song this time.

Did she doubt the angel? Did she doubt God? She had seen her son work miracles beyond description, did she think he would somehow escape? Did she watch in hopeful anticipation thinking that maybe this was the time he'd rise to show his power? Or did she turn away unable to watch her baby suffer through so much?

And then, three days later to hear that he had risen from the grave. Did she fear it was some cruel joke or did she believe right away? When she saw him did she run and grab him and kiss the top of his head? Did she hold him so tight that the disciples had to pry her off of him?  Did she think back to his first night on this earth and the wonderful things she had seen and heard? Did she finally have the answers to things she pondered that night in the stables? 

She was but a simple a child the night that angel appeared to her and told her she would become a mother. She gave birth to the Messiah, the Son of God, the King of Kings, and was there to witness his life every step of the way. She was blessed beyond words but that blessing included suffering that no mother should ever have to bear. The treasure trove of memories in her heart must have been so sweet.

Think Heavy Thoughts

Alex hasn't been gaining weight like he should. At two weeks he was still two ounces under his birth weight (babies should be back to their birth weight by two weeks). A week later I took him back in for another weight check. At that appointment he hadn't gained any weight in the last week. Babies his age should gain half an ounce to an ounce per day.

The doctor has us supplementing his nursings with formula. We're nursing like normal but then offering two ounces of formula after every other feeding or if he still acts hungry. Since we've started the supplements he's considerably less fussy and is sleeping wonderfully.

Think heavy thoughts for my little guy and send up some prayers that he'll start gaining weight like he should.

Alex getting his supplement.

Alex's Arrival

The little one is asleep and the husband is off enjoying his first Black Friday shopping adventure not as a retail employee so I think I will try to write out the story of how Alex entered the world. (This will be very detailed. I wish I had heard more detailed stories for other women and I wanted to remember the details down the road myself.)

Alex had measured big for all of my last trimester so when we hit that magical 37 weeks and "full term" we started working to encourage little Alex to get out before he got too much bigger. Philip and I went walking around the neighborhood every night and I added in some walking and sets of squats at work. At my last prenatal doctor's appointment, I was 37 weeks 4 days and dilated to one centimeter and about 75% effaced. The doc tried to manually stretch my cervix to see how ripe it was. It didn't move, but he was very encouraging that the effacement was a good sign. We made the appointment for the next week but doc said he wouldn't be surprised if he didn't see me then.

Well, we kept up the walking and squatting and I ate as much spicy food as my heartburn would let me.  The nesting instinct hit hard soon after that. I wanted to clean everything and get everything organized. I could hardly sleep or concentrate on anything because I had such a long list of things I wanted to get done. (Most of which were still waiting when the three of us got home.)

Thursday the first I started having contractions while we were out running errands. Nothing too bad, but they were noticeable. I called the on call doctor after about two hours of contractions and he said that it didn't seem like enough. Well, they kept coming so I called Labor and Delivery. The nurse advised me to try to make them go away instead of working to keep them going. That was more effective at seeing if it was real labor or not. Well, they went away.

Friday night I had some more contractions with one or two being a bit painful. However, I could make them go away by drinking water or resting for a bit.

Early Saturday morning, right around 3 am I got up to use the bathroom and feed the cat (just like I had done at 3 am every morning since about 25 weeks). While I was up I felt a pretty strong contraction so I decided I would put up some of the clean dishes and see what happened. The contractions continued and were rather uncomfortable, though not quite painful and kept up for about forty-five minutes or so. I remembered the nurse's advice and went to lay back down in bed and see if the contractions kept up. After laying there for about fifteen minutes there were no more contractions, but I needed to pee again. So around 4 or 4:15, I decide that I will go to the bathroom then try to get some more sleep. After all, this could be my last Saturday to sleep in...

I get to just outside the bathroom door and gush! This was no trickle. There was no mistaking it for peeing on myself. My water broke in true movie style. For once I was glad for our ugly concrete floors. I grabbed a towel for the floor and put another between my legs as I walked over to the bed and woke Philip up. We were packed and ready to go in no time. I sent a text to family letting them know that we were headed to the hospital to see if this was the real deal but that I was pretty certain and I called L&D to let them know we were on our way.

We get to the hospital and I change into the lovely gown that I will be wearing for the next two days. When the nurse goes to do the amniotic fluid test, she takes a quick look and says that she's pretty sure I'm ruptured. Well, I was. I was also about 90% effaced at this point though no more dilated. They admit me and we fill out all the fun paperwork. I also find out that my doctor is not on call this weekend at all and I would be starting with the doctor that I had left because I didn't like his personality.

I give the nurse my birth plan and we get started with all the fun wires and tubes. I get hooked up to the monitors. I also get an IV for the routine fluids to keep me hydrated. I also get started on antibiotics as I was group B strep positive.

The doctor then comes in to check on me and discuss the birth plan. My water broke but I wasn't in active labor. We discussed the timeline that this put us on. The longer you labor with your water broken the higher the chances for infection, prolapsed cord, and other not-so-good stuff. Dr. B said that he would feel comfortable with me trying to get labor started on my own for 24 hours before we needed to start Pitocin. That was all I needed to hear. I would get labor going within 24 hours come hell or high water! He checked my cervix. Due to the group B strep he checked my cervix rectally. This was extremely uncomfortable, and he said, not very accurate. Well, he said I was at about a 2 and because I wasn't in active labor, he would let me get up and walk around off the monitors for periods of 15 minutes. Every 15 minutes though I had to get on the monitors for the nurse to check the heart rate.

Well, we keep up the 15 minute schedule for about an hour and half, maybe two. Then the nurse said I had to stay in bed. At each check my blood pressure had been taken and apparently it was getting pretty high and concerning. She wanted me to stay in bed and try to relax, perhaps being up and moving so much was just pushing it too far. Then Dr. B came in. Apparently my blood pressure wasn't getting any better and was raising some rather big red flags. The traditional, normal treatment is Magnesium. Dr. B said that normally he would just go with the Mag, but if he started the Magnesium it would likely stop my labor. Then we'd have to start Pitocin and doing so this early into the labor process gave me a high chance of a c-section. Dr. B says that there was another option. We could do a half-dose of demerol (half of what they normally give you for labor pain). He said that he understood that I didn't want pain medication but that the demerol would lower my pulse and blood pressure and could help stop the escalation he was seeing. Demerol it was. Oh, and I had to stay in bed on my left side with the exception of getting up to use the restroom.

Fast forward a bit. Family got into town around 6 or so Saturday night. Around the same time, my labor started getting more intense. Normally in hospitals, you get your cervix checked pretty frequently, but because of the strep, they weren't checking me unless I asked them to do so. This just meant that I had no clue how I was progressing for much of the time. At the same time, they stopped telling me what my blood pressure readings were. My blood pressure was checked automatically every 15 minutes and at first the nurse or Philip would read me the number. Then it started just being, "It's pretty high" and "That one wasn't so bad."

That night gets rather fuzzy to me. I went into active labor sometime Saturday evening though I'm not sure when. I just know that eventually it went from kind of uncomfortable to noticeable painful with each contraction. We did do another half dose of demerol and then later a full dose closer to transition. Philip and the nurse became more and more strict about getting up just to go to the restroom and then getting right back into the bed. I would rest for a second when I sat up, and the contractions were a lot easier to deal with when sitting, but I had to be quick. What they weren't telling me, or what I wasn't understanding at the time, was that my blood pressure was reaching very dangerous levels every time I sat up. We're talking 200/100+.

I do remember the 2:00 hour Sunday morning as we took note that the clock wound itself back for Daylight Savings Time. By that point and for some time previously, the contractions were very, very painful. I would grab hold of the railing to the bed with one hand and took Philip's hand in the other. I thought for sure I would rip the railing off that bed or break Philip's fingers. Both ended up making it out okay.

At one point I looked at the nurse (who was staying in the room most of the time) and told her that I felt like I needed to push. When she had checked me last I had been at about an 8, now I just had a tiny bit of cervix left. I knew in my mind that I needed to wait until that last bit of cervix was gone or pushing could do more harm than good, but I really wanted to. Finally she said it was gone and it was time to start pushing some. As this was my first, we would do some "practice" pushes before the doctor got there and another nurse came in to help. During this time I experienced something that nearly every laboring woman does, but no one talks about: I had several bowel movements while pushing. It's the same muscle group and feels about the same. Everyone does it, the nurses are used to, but no one talks about it. Now you know. Well, after some time of pushing the nurses told me to stop pushing or I would have the baby without the doctor being there.

If you've never given birth, here's something they don't always tell you and that you can't properly describe: When you get to that point of the delivery process when the baby is right there, to not push is like trying to hold your own head underwater and not breathe. It is so completely against your instincts and feels like you will literally die if you don't push and anyone telling you to stop must be completely off their rocker.

Well, Dr. G gets there (Dr. B was no longer on call) and they let me start pushing again as she's getting suited up. A whole bunch of other people come in too, but I'm too busy to notice. Dr. G introduces herself and proceeds to say that she knew I had a birth plan, but she didn't get to read it yet and then asks me how I feel about an episiotomy. Keep in mind, I am pushing a baby out right now. We agree to an episiotomy as she thinks a short cut will help his head come right out, and it does. His head came out just seconds after the cut. Next came his shoulders and the rest of him just slipped right now. To be honest, once the head was out the rest just seemed to slide out almost on it's own.

At 6:21 am on November 4th, I heard his first little cry. It was a little gurgled and not too loud, but had a good hearty sound to it. They pick him up and I see his little face and his flailing body. Philip gets to cut the cord and they give him a quick rub down. I wanted skin to skin time as soon as possible and I ripped off that gown. (Modesty just got completely forgotten for the next several hours.) After the cord was cut, they handed me my little boy. He just wiggled for a second then he settled down and snuggled into my neck. I was in awe of him, just in complete awe. Here was this tiny little person who just minutes ago had been inside of me.

During that time I delivered the placenta. After a little bit, they took Alex to the warmer off to the side of the room to be checked out and Philip went over there with him. Dr. G then tells me that I have a fourth degree tear. Externally, there was only a third degree tear, but internally I tore a lot worse. His head had fit with the episiotomy, but his shoulders had caused most of the tear. The tear went through the vagina, perineum, and rectum. The sphincter wasn't torn which was the good news. Dr. G did a three layer repair and reinforced the sphincter just to be sure. She finished her repair and explained the recovery briefly while the nursery worker finished with Alex.

And then, just as quickly as it seemed everyone had swarmed into the room, they were all gone. It was just me and Philip and the nurse. Soon, Philip went and got the family and they got to meet little Alex. I felt rather good afterwards. I had to keep having my blood pressure monitored and was still stuck to the IV as they had started Magnesium some time during transition. I would stay on the Mag for 24 hours after the birth to ensure that I didn't have any seizures. It probably took a day or so for me to feel like there was anything physically "wrong" or like my body was recovering from anything.

And that's how I became a mother.

Book Review: Before I Dream Bedtime Bible Storybook

Review: Before I Dream Betime Bible Storybook by Karyn Henley

As we await little A's arrival, we have been reading a bedtime story each night. Yes, I read to my belly, and yes, he sometimes seems to respond. Recently we finished reading Karyn Henley's Before I Dream Bedtime Bible Storybook. I bought this book at an Abilene Educational Supply booksale and got the copy that came with a CD of music. The same issue with CD can be found on Amazon for about $50. You might try second-hand bookstores or Christian bookstore's clearance racks for a better deal. Tyndale gives it a retail value of $15, but it is currently out of print.

That being said, keep your eyes out for this book at any second-hand sales or your church's library! I loved reading through this book. It covers a variety of stories from the Old and New Testament, some children's classics such as Noah and David and Goliath, but also some lesser heard stories such as Samuel and Saul. A's favorite seemed to be the couple with Solomon.

Ms. Henley describes her purpose for the book as sending kids off to sleep with positive images in their minds. She does just that. Even when some of the more gritty stories are included, they are tastefully made child-friendly. There is plenty of onomatopoeia ("clip-clop, clip-clop" "whoosh") in the stories to help the reader and listener get into the spirit of things a bit more. Each story also has at least one illustration, and some have full page art.

Overall, this was a great book and I would highly recommend scooping it up if you find a copy!

One Year Later

Yesterday was one year since my LEEP to remove precancerous cells from my cervix.

A year ago, I thought my life was about to take turn dramatically for the worse.

A year ago, I was scared, make that terrified that my dreams of becoming a mother would be gone forever.

A year ago, I had no idea how strong I was.

I was terrified of what would happen. I was worried that they would find out that it was worse than the biopsy showed. I didn't think anyone understood or could understand. And I had no idea what I was doing.

I took it one day at a time and leaned on my husband more than I ever thought I would. I learned that in all of his discomfort with my tears and emotions, he would always be there for me. I learned that he is my rock and my teddy bear all in one. He really was amazing (and still is).

I struggled with what it meant to trust God and be faithful to the command to not worry. I struggled even more with what it meant to take your cares to your brothers and sisters in Christ and ask for prayer. I found myself conflicted in the role of care taker for so many and needing to be cared for, and I learned the importance of being vulnerable even as you care for the broken.

And now I find myself "as big as house" with a wiggling, kicking, little baby growing inside of me and a clean bill of health. I feel closer to my husband that I did before even when he's hundreds of miles away. I feel more at peace and content with the situation and world that God has placed me in. Most of all, I have been humbled to a place of deep appreciation for the glory and majesty of our Lord and the life that we have within him.

I am honored to be able to share my story with anyone who might see this and pray that I might provide hope to someone who needs it.

To read about the events of last here, click here.



My ever growing "very pregnant" belly. :)



Mommy Mean Girls

In my journey towards motherhood I have learned one thing: Moms are the mean girls of the adult world! Seriously! If you want to feel judged- talk about your parenting ideas with other mothers.

If you're planning on a natural birth, someone will tell you that it won't happen and you'll be begging for the drugs.

Say you want to cloth diaper and they will tell you that you will give up after the first week of laundry.

Want to breastfeed? You'll be up all night and you obviously will be flashing people in public everyday.

Don't do daycare. Don't homeschool. Don't do time-outs. Don't let children have any sugar. Don't use this brand. Don't go to this park...

It starts even before the baby is born! Shouldn't you be eating more? Eating less? Don't eat that. Don't drink that. Are you gaining enough? Gaining too much? Don't go down the stairs so fast. Take this class. Read that book.

Oh and if you don't do exactly as everyone tells you to, you're a bad mom. Or you're not a "natural" mom. Or your parenting is "backwards."

And here's the real rub: these comments always come from other mothers- other women who know how hard it is to make all these decisions for your family- other women who are getting judged just the same for their own choices.

What is it that makes mothers so judgmental of other moms? Why can't we all just support one another?

It's the same concept as middle school: the bullies pick on the little kids because they're insecure. We have created a society in which mothers are so insecure that they must nit-pick other moms just to make it through the day. If I put this mom down for adding salt to her baby's homemade food then I'll feel better about what I feed my kid and I'll feel like I'm a good mom.


Here's what I suggest: If your kid is happy, healthy, and loved, it doesn't matter what anyone else says about anything that you're doing for your family. Keep on doing what you feel is best for your family and respect every other mother's right to do the same.

Think of it this way: When you talk with your husband about having a bad day, often times you want him to just listen and sympathize. If you wanted his advice, you'd ask for it. Give other moms the same consideration: listen and sympathize and leave the advice alone unless it's asked for.

With Love and Respect,
A Determined-To-Be-Self-Confident-Mom-In-The-Making