She is God's work.

I don't need nobody

I don't need the weight of words to find a way

To crash on through

I don't need nobody

I just need to learn the depth or doubt

Of faith 
to fall into

"Needs"

--Collective Soul

Tonight I fell asleep unintentionally for 2 hours during "Friday pizza and family movie night."  When I woke I felt dazed and fuzzy, unsure of where I was or what had happened, surprised I had somehow pulled a blanket on top of me without even realizing.  

Once the fuzziness wore off, I thanked Ben for letting me rest and putting the older kids to bed, then said goodbye to him as he left to watch a movie at a friend's house.  Claire woke from her late nap, and I got her ready for her nightly bath.  She looked up at me from the warm water with her serene, content smile she reserves for bath time, and diligently tried to grab the wash cloth I used to soap her up.  I finished rinsing her, then wrapped her in the soft bath towel, turning her toward the mirror to the reflection of her two bright blue eyes peeking out. 

"Hi baby Claire!"  I said to her reflection.  This time her smile was full, showing the roundness of her cheeks and dimples on each side.  

I lay her down on the bed, kissing her freshly-washed, soft baby belly as she laughed a still-new-baby giggle.  I rubbed the lavender-scented lotion between my hands to prevent shocking her warm skin with its cold texture, then snapped up her pajamas and wrapped her up in a blanket, holding her in my arms and feeding her as her eyes closed, her left hand gripped around my right middle finger.  

After I lay my sweet baby down, I realized I had been given something I hadn't had in weeks, possibly months:

time on my own, and energy after the kids were in bed and the house was quiet.

I immediately knew I wanted to write, and write and write some more.  So many words have swirled in my head for too long and I have lost many of them.  I tell myself hopefully that when life slows down, they will return.  I need to believe this.

Earlier today, the words that could not stop swirling were about the curly-haired baby I had just now snuggled to sleep.  One phrase over and over again came to my mind as I went throughout my day living Motherhood to its fullest--washing and feeding, holding and wiping, teaching and correcting, smiling and sighing :  

I used to be afraid of her.  

The first time this thought came, it shocked me, and I tried to reject it.  No I didn't, I argued.  How could I think that?  What does that even mean?

Last year when I had gone back to group therapy, I learned more about myself--outer layers were peeled away yet again to reveal self-discovery and insight.  One thing I learned that was so fulfilling in a way I'm not sure how to describe, is that I am a Sorter.  Meaning, someone who needs time to sort through thoughts and emotions.  I put a lot of pressure on myself to immediately know things--either the right thing to say, or the way I'm supposed to feel, and in the past I have lived untrue to myself because of it.  This is why small talk with strangers can be anxiety-provoking, or public speaking makes me want to run away and hide and my insecurities flare up in a very real way.  This is also why writing is so good for me, why it brings so much peace.  Writing helps me sort.  It's a way I take care of my emotions and needs, and can let go and just be.

The point is this:  today that thought of being afraid of Claire came, and even though I wanted to reject it, I felt instead that I needed to sit with it, giving myself time to sort.  

So I dragged laundry baskets full of dirty clothes close to the washer, and sifted through lights and darks as I let the thought settle.  

Afraid of her?  Of that extremely easy-going, happy, chunky baby?  

Yes.  

But why?  

I turned on the washer, watching the water fall over the clothes.  I filled the plastic cup with the liquid deep-blue soap and slowly poured it into the gushing water.

And then the realization came:  Because I was terrified of being needed by another human being.  

I was already so overwhelmed with the needs of 3 children and a husband in grad school and full-time work, my own part-time job, relationships with family members, friends, time-consuming church callings, etc.  I felt stretched thin, barely making life work as it was and was terrified that another child would take away my ability to be the mother/wife/friend/sister/daughter/church member that I wanted to be.  I didn't know how to give more than I already was, how to let go more than I already had.

And.

Last January, I had made a silent promise to myself for the year of 2014.  I promised myself it would be the year for Me.  That may sound selfish, but I knew this was not a selfish promise.  I have lived the majority of my life for others--taking care of their needs and emotions before I would take care of, or even before I could recognize, my own.  Though I actually really like this care-taking side I was born with, I have known for a long time that it's out of balance.  This was the year I wanted to really push and work on that.  
Going back to therapy was the first step, something I had been wanting to do for over a year and had held back so that Ben could go.  I had learned so much and had loved therapy the first time, I felt ready for more. (I wrote about it here.)  I was ready to jump in and eager to work again.  Once I knew we could financially afford it, I signed myself back up, this time with a new therapist I had wanted to work with for years.  She is gifted and a pusher, and I knew I was ready, for the challenge and desire to learn more.  To stretch myself emotionally in new ways and become even more vulnerable and insightful.  

Physically I was also putting my body and health in the forefront of 2014.  I had been working on a lifelong sugar addiction, as well as emotional eating, and it was showing.  I was exercising for no other reason than the intention of showing my body love and care.  I was also working on a huge issue I have regarding Body Shame and had set some pretty scary, but life-altering goals for myself.

Spiritually I was in a more real place with God, and there were moments in the months before my pregnancy that I felt I had been given the ability to see and feel things that created peace inside of my religion where before I had been unsettled.  I also was beginning to see not just who I am with God, but the potential I have as a human being.  Because of my emotional and physical work, spiritually I was starting to truly get a glimpse of what my purpose might be.  Doesn't that sound big?  It felt big.  Not boast-y though, in fact it felt the opposite.  It felt humbling and overwhelming and amazing.

When I found out in early March that I was pregnant, I had been digging in to all of this, and was excited to see what was going to come from this work, and where I would be at the end of 2014.  The positive pregnancy test sent me reeling.

I don't consider myself an angry person, in fact, anger is an emotion I struggle to allow myself to feel.  But I can say that for around 9 weeks, the only emotion I could focus on when it came to this pregnancy was anger.  I was angry that I was being shown that yet again, I was not in control of when or if I choose to have more children, no matter how much I try to prevent it and be in control of it.  I was angry that I was pregnant when I didn't want to be, but was close with several who want to be, and who could not be.  I was angry that I was so sick.  I was angry that I was so tired.  I was angry that I could no longer give emotionally or physically what I had been to my life.  I was angry that my goals for the year were derailed.  I was angry that my body and my emotions were not my normal, and would not be for at least another 18 months.  

And I was angry that I felt angry.  

After about 9 weeks, I decided I had enough of the anger, reminding myself that I had choices--I always do.  Keeping my pregnancy is a choice, and one I was making, so I needed to accept the choice and stop wallowing in anger.  Also I knew that anger is a secondary emotion, meaning one that masks the real emotion underneath, and one people can become easily stuck in.  Anger is falsely empowering, and easily victim-creating.  I needed now to let go of it so I could become un-stuck and figure out what was underneath it.  I talked about it with Ben, and in therapy, and with a couple of people close to me.  Through talking it out and sorting the emotions, I realized I was actually very scared.  

Which brings me to today, watching the suds and bubbles of the laundry soap rise as the water continued to fall, thinking back to the time before having four children was my new normal.  Before Claire was the baby I now adore and can't believe I'm lucky enough to get to be her mother.  

Yes, I was afraid of her.  Not her, but the idea of her.  I worried I wouldn't be able to be the mom I wanted to be to my other kids with a fourth child to care for.  I worried my marriage would again take a backseat to a miserable pregnancy and the newborn stage of life.  And I worried about the goals I had set, to prioritize myself in a way I had never before would disappear.  I was scared I was going to revert backwards from the progress I had been making.    

But the truth is this.  I was starting this pregnancy in a better emotional, physical and spiritual place than I had been in any of my previous pregnancies.  I think God was prepping me for what was to come, and the blessings that would be given to us during that time and when we were on the other side of the trials that year.  

That pregnancy rocked my world--and not in a good way.  My body literally shut down on me, making the smallest daily task feel insurmountable.  Our life was chaos last year.  Job loss, another move, external family issues, time-consuming church callings, Ben finishing his last classes then  scrambling to finish his dissertation, then both Ben and I working two jobs each to try to cover financial strain, along with his traveling the last two months of the year.....

The goals I had set for myself in 2014 were not accomplished the way I had imagined or hoped them to be, but that doesn't mean I didn't accomplish anything.  I can look back now and see the way I was molded and pushed and stretched-- physically, emotionally, spiritually--just not in the ways I had anticipated.  Far more than my limited perspective could have ever planned.  
  
I closed the lid of the washing machine and heard the swishing of the water and the clothes as I shut the laundry room door and wondered to myself, 

Maybe the work I really needed to do was to allow God's will over my own, yet again? 

I walked over to where Claire had been sitting in her swing, contently sucking on her fingers and picked her up and kissed her soft,edible cheeks.  As I talked to her and told her how much I love her, a thought came:

She is God's work, in me.  

And with that realization, I kissed her once more, and took a picture.   

   

Introducing....

Claire Edith Strader

Born 11/17/14 at 4:08 pm, 8lbs even, 21 inches

Birth story to follow, for now here are

pictures from Claire's first 24 hours.

We love you, baby girl!  Happy Birth Day.

Water balloons.

(What my pregnancy feet look like at 9 am, and then at 9 pm.) 

Every morning when I wake up, I have little to no use of my right hand.  The nights bring a continual loss of circulation in my fingers stretching all the way up to my elbow, and by the time I rise, my fingers are so stiff and swollen and in pain that I have no grip or ability to hold even a knife to butter toast for my children.

I can no longer style Leah's hair--which completely thwarts her plans to look as much like the Fancy Nancy book character as possible.  She cries as she begs for a bun or a braid, and I apologize that the best I can do right now is a haphazard ponytail, or to brush through it and clip in a flower or place a headband.  I allow her to work through her 5 year old emotion without feeling guilty, because I know I'm doing the best I can.  Some mornings I'm more patient with her emotions than others.

At breakfast, I gag down my liquid iron and wait the 30 minutes required before eating while I prepare a protein smoothie and toast for my kids.  I now allow them--once they're completely ready for school--to watch a morning show while they eat, because it diverts their attention to something aside from each other to bother and screech at.

I try to find something acceptable to wear in public, though I really don't care much what others think.  By "acceptable," my standards have lowered extremely, and the most I do is brush my teeth, put on my contacts, deoderant, and grab my sunglasses.  Because of the constant loss of circulation in my right hand, I save makeup-wearing days for Sunday.  And because showers cause severe swelling in my feet, I save showering for just before bedtime.

By this time, the iron has settled in, and my stomach lurches but I know the only way to get through it is to force down food to absorb it.  So I do.  And take some deep breaths to keep the food down.

Their backpacks are on and we figure out whose turn it is to pray, as we fold our arms.  Then we are out the door.

My morning routine used to be coming home with June after dropping off the older kids and letting her watch her favorite movie "Bolt," while I lay next to her on the couch.  But that has become a luxury now instead of routine, due to an increase in visits to the doctor or specialist.

This morning, I packed snacks and a drink as well as our ipad (in case of 3 yr old tantrum emergencies) and drove the 20 minutes with June to my consultation with the hematologist.  Usually we are quickly seen, but this morning the clock ticked loudly as the minutes dragged on.  June ate one snack after another--her string cheese, applesauce, crackers and fruit snacks--while she chatted with me and stared at those coming in an out of the waiting room while we stayed put.

I was feeling particularly sorry for myself, staring down at my feet which had begun to seriously swell during the 38 minutes we had been waiting.  I was feeling apprehensive about this appointment, nervous about the outcome of my current blood draw and iron count, because I had heard the results of them over the phone the day before, and gagging down the liquid iron twice a day had not seemed to make much difference.  I was disappointed at the outcome, because there had been days where the iron had made me so sick I had to make sure I was close to a bathroom for the majority of the morning.  I had changed my diet to include iron-rich foods instead of the carbs I adore so much.  I endured the weeks of stomach discomfort because of a purpose, and now it all seemed to have been for nothing.

I knew this would mean taking more extreme measures, and just the thought of the options discussed at a previous appointment made my forehead break out into a sweat and a wave of nausea overcome me.  I tried to distract my discouraged and nervous thoughts.

Looking up, I noticed a beautiful woman and her good-looking husband walk through the swinging glass doors.  June noticed her as well.  She checked in at the front desk, and they settled into a seat across from ours.  I guessed she was maybe 10 years older than me, wearing grey skinny jeans, a cute sweater, sparkling earrings, her makeup flawless.  She carried a soft, tan and white, chevron-patterned blanket and a large water bottle.  She wore a stylish grey hat that matched her jeans.

Underneath the hat, she was bald.

The hematologist I see works at the Cancer Institute, and the majority of those surrounding us in the waiting room were those who were in different stages of illness and treatment.  But there was something about this lovely woman, whose swollen cheeks from her medication did not match the rest of her thin body.  She did not carry the air of defeat so many others I watched seemed to.  

June continued to stare at her, and I wondered if she was going to blurt out something in 3-year-old fashion about her hair being gone, but instead she said loudly,

"Momma, that pretty lady is so very firsty,"  meaning thirsty, as she watched the woman take another drink from her pale pink water bottle.

The woman turned to us and smiled, waving at June.  June shyly tucked her head behind my arm, but lifted up a small hand to wave back to her.  She giggled as she hid, so I asked her what she thought of the pretty lady's earrings.

"Oh yes, I love hers earrings.  She's so fashion, Mom!"  And she peeked around my arm for another glance at her new friend, who continued to smile at us.  She asked June her name, and a few other questions, and June replied to them from behind my arm, peeking around and smiling as she answered.

Just then, the nurse opened the door and called my name.  I gathered up our belongings and reached for June's hand.  She shyly waved goodbye to the woman in the waiting room, and softly said, "Bye, friend," as we walked around the chairs.  I told her I hoped she would have a good day, and she waved goodbye to us.

The hematologist delivered the news I had been anticipating--iron infusions would begin in two weeks.  Because of a couple of seriously bad experiences with having my blood drawn, I have an extreme aversion to needles and especially IV's, and I gulped as I heard the appointments would take 30 minutes to an hour each time, depending on "how difficult it was to find a good vein."  I knew my veins are not ideal, and thoughts raced as to what "finding a good vein" might entail.

But the face of the woman in the waiting room came to my mind, and I remembered her reason for being there.  That could be me someday, waiting for the appointment to have a chemo infusion instead of iron, praying that the medicine that would make me so sick and exhausted would fight the enemy inside of my own body that was threatening to take my life.  Right now, my story is so much easier than hers.

This doesn't mean right now isn't hard, it is.  And it has been.  I have become a "bare minimum mom," one who yells across the house because the thought of walking on my water-ballooned swollen feet from the kitchen to the bedroom feels like too much of an effort, the one who has fallen behind on helping my kindergartner keep up with her extremely easy homework, because after lunch I am so desperate to lay down that I push quiet time and nap time as quickly as I can instead of taking that time with her.  Baths are skipped, clean laundry piles up, crumbs stay on the floors.  Our nights are a scheduled routine that doesn't leave much time for doing anything fun, and usually end with me laying between the girls on their bunkbed so their nightly shenanigans will end quicker.  I crave peace and quiet and rest, and feel like that's what has been motivating most of my actions and emotions lately.

Perspective is something that I continually search for in my life--not to invalidate my own struggles, but as a reminder to allow them, but not wallow in them.

I rushed from my appointment to pick up Leah from kindergarten, then walked into our home to get lunch ready.  I thought about the woman from the waiting room the entire time as I served strawberries, cheese and turkey to my girls.  I gingerly walked on swollen feet into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.  The speckles on my forehead and around my eyes from the weird "pregnancy mask" that has shown up this time used to bother me.  Now I stared at those speckles and told myself they will fade soon enough, and to stop focusing so much on what doesn't matter, so I could use my energy to focus on what does.  I have hair that isn't falling out, and a body that is not at war with itself, but is instead giving everything it has (especially all of its iron) to grow a new life.

And that is a beautiful, miraculous gift.

This pregnancy is a season, and though it is wearing a times, and I have had to lean on others to do things I am normally capable of doing on my own, it is one I am strong enough to get through.  Water ballooned feet and all.

When men should have bangs--Confronting Anemia--and Naked Windows. (Or, a small and somewhat meaningless update.)

{the morning after we moved.}

I am supposed to be working, while watching one of the two shows I actually sit down for during the week.

No, this isn't true.  I'm supposed to be cutting Ben's hair, which he has been asking me to do for about two weeks now--but he fell asleep on the lower bunk where Leah and June sleep together (vertically, in their full-sized bunk bed) while trying to get June to "calm down and stop pretending to karate chop her Curious George blankie."  Those were my words, not his, that I said to June right before Ben switched me places and I came out to the family room to settle my swollen feet on the ottoman next to the couch to begin my nightly computer work.

However, he fell asleep, so I don't feel guilty that the haircut isn't happening for yet another night.  Besides, I really like his hair long, when it begins to curl.  This is something we've disagreed about for going on 12 years of marriage, and I will admit there have been times when I've avoided those haircuts as long as I possibly can so I can enjoy one more day looking at the dark curls that grow.  "Men should not have bangs!"  Has been his motto.  Sometimes I agree with this--but in his case, I do not.

Anyway, I sat down to work and instead began reading blogs and started wondering if there would be a time when my words would come back to me to write again....it has been a long, long time.  I miss this side of me.  So, I decided to just begin.

The months that have passed so quickly have provided our family with a lot of twists and turns.  Caleb turned 9, June turned 3, I turned 34, Ben turned 35, we went to Utah to visit family, Ben found a new job, we made it through another stifling Arizona summer, the older two kids began school, Ben passed his dissertation defense, and....we have unexpectedly moved (again).

I'm attempting to gain the attitude of expecting the unexpected with our lives, because that is the way it continues to go--thinking that the element of shock and stress and surprise will leave and I can roll with it better.  Or this is my hope.

I could tell I was in a funk when we had been in the house for 3 weeks and not one picture or curtain had been hung yet.  Not one!  This is unheard of, for me.  I worried I was depressed, honestly.  Or just avoiding the unpacking because I'm anticipating another move in our future and leaving everything ready to go at a moment's notice.  It turns out neither of these was true.

About 3 weeks ago, at the doctor's office for my glucose pregnancy blood test (so extremely un-fun), I was told I have a severe case of pregnancy-induced anemia.  How it was caused is unsure and something the midwife/doctor team is still puzzled about, referring me to a hematologist to double-check things next week.  In the mean time, I have been put on a high dose of iron and have been informed to take this matter seriously.

Week one and two of my iron dose seemed relatively the same, but last week--something clicked.  The iron pumping through my system started working and I began to feel human again.  I no longer had to come home from dropping the older two kids off at school and beg June to watch a movie so I could lay like a zombie on the couch or sleep until it was time to pick up Leah from half-day kindergarten.  I no longer lived on Tylenol or Excedrine (the one without aspirin) because of the constant and persistent headache I had been enduring for almost 4 months.  The room no longer spun each time I stood up.  I no longer had bouts of time (sometimes up to 20 minutes or more) where I struggled to breathe and my heart could not slow down.

And, I began hanging pictures on the walls.

I'm now answering phone calls, scheduling play dates, making dinner, and occasionally taking my kids to the park.  Every day no longer feels like I'm crawling my way through it, but actually getting up and walking through, with possibly a small spring in that step, even.  May not sound like a big deal for some, but unfortunately just existing day to day had become my story before the iron supplement.

Though I'm not grateful for the overly and intentionally sweetened glucose drink I had to consume that day in the doctor's office, I am grateful this anemia was discovered through that glucose test, and handled so I can come back to life just before this fourth baby enters our world.

Our new home is beginning to feel like us.  Curtains still need to be hung though.  Why do windows look so naked to me without them??  We will get there.

For now, I will settle with finally writing something, and getting to look at Ben's curly bangs one day longer than planned.

Also?  This is me, just after drinking that nasty sugary drink, before the iron supplement began, at 29 weeks along.  Anyone in the mood for a cupcake?

Halfway.

Today I lay against the crinkly tissue, which wrinkled and ripped each time I moved--even when the only movement I made was to crane my neck around to the left and steal glimpses of my children watching the screen above us glowing its fluorescent purple.  It was the first ultrasound they have been to, and will most likely be the last.

We were shown the brain, the eyes, the nose with the sinus cavities, the ears, the abdomen, the bladder, ten fingers and ten toes that continued to wiggle and wave as the probe pushed down against the cold, clear jelly on my stomach.

"The baby isth sthooooo cute!"  Leah lisped with excitement, her hands clasped together.

"Dat baby looks like it's gonna eat dat shark,"  June explained, trying to make sense of the images before her.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" was the only thing Caleb continued to ask, until the technician finally answered.

Girl!

I watched Caleb's face crumple as he brought his knees up to his chest and buried his head down.  Ben reached over and wrapped him in his arms.

"It's okay to be sad, Bud," I said gently, attempting to comfort him while he was out of my arm's reach.   The technician's eyes widened and shifted from my face over to Caleb's tears and I quietly explained, "We knew this would be hard for him, he's wanted a little brother for so long.  The good news is, wanting a little brother has never stopped him from loving his little sisters."

"He's not the first one to cry, it's usually the mom though," was her upbeat response.

We continued the rest of the anatomical exam with a more subdued mood than we had begun, but it was still miraculous to see.  There were so many parts and pieces working, dependent upon each other to connect  and form together.  The femur bones, the four heart chambers, the umbilical cord, the curved spine.  I stared at her perfect little profile and tried to visualize the movements on the screen happening inside of me at the same moment.

I have admittedly been one who stays emotionally unattached--or mentally unattached?-- during my pregnancies, which used to bother me.  I've wondered why I was not the type of woman to talk directly to my unborn child, or sing to them, or read them stories, or be able to associate my protruding stomach to a little baby actually alive inside of me, like I have heard so many do.

I've stopped being concerned with trying to be someone other than who I am, because the moment my child is placed in my arms the overwhelming love is so immediate, so thickly bound, that it feels like the missing piece of a puzzle I have been working on for 10 months is finally put in place.  My brain can suddenly compute and accept the reality of growing another little human, and the disconnected time during pregnancy washes away.

One thing that does connect me during pregnancy, is to decide on a name.   And I have, both a first and a middle name, one that jumped out at me a couple of months ago, and I haven't let go of since.  It is a sweet, peaceful name with the middle one also belonging to two women of strength in my life.  Ben isn't completely convinced yet, and this is the first time out of four that we haven't easily agreed, settling as soon as we heard the gender.

When the ultrasound was over, I met my midwife.  I've always wanted to work with a midwife, and was excited to hear at my last doctor's appointment that our insurance covered them, so I made the switch.  We spoke of what the next few months together looked like, and as she spoke, I felt a familiar feeling creep to the surface of my emotions--one I am currently digging through in therapy to continue to overcome.

Fear.

More specifically,  Fear of my own abilities and strength.  I have barreled through many other Fears the past few years, and yet somehow as the midwife spoke, I recognized this Fear as one of the most deeply-buried, intrinsically ingrained of all of them.  Working through this one will reach out and cause a shift, changing other areas of my life, I can sense it.  These next few months will be interesting--that I know--and if I can meet the hurdles I for see ahead with faith in God and my abilities, they may also become one of the most challenging and rewarding of my entire life.

My little family went to lunch together after the appointment, all five of us sitting in a rounded booth.  The girls passed the ultrasound pictures back and forth, and Caleb cheered up over his pasta and mandarin oranges.  I found myself wondering how the dynamics of another girl will alter what we have in this moment, and could tell Ben was contemplating the same.

I am almost 20 weeks along, and feel that Halfway is very much a metaphor of my life right now.  There are so many things unsettled, unfinished, unknown, waiting on one thing or another, still in Forming Mode.

Ben's need for full-time work that will make enough to support us continues, his dissertation is set to be finished (finished!  I can hardly understand this concept! ) and defended by August 20th, our house may be sold while we are renting it, beginning any time after August we could be handed a slip of paper and told to find somewhere new, Ben will begin the application for interviews again in October, and---if all goes well--leave again for the majority of December and January while I do my best to juggle a newborn and three tiny people without the support of family close by.

The unknown of all of this can feel suffocating and terrifying, if I let it.

Like the tiny body parts I watched on the screen today, these pieces of our lives are dependent upon each other in order to grow, systematically working together to create what will become Our Future.  Ben and I are doing our best to hang on,  trying not to stress over how it will all come together.

We are trusting the process we are in, trying to believe in our own abilities and strength, waiting patiently while Halfway continues to develop, in both our lives and with our baby.

embracing the possibility. {on miscarriage, fear, and faith}

"no more kids during grad school!"

i think i've spoken those words more than a hundred (or a thousand?) times since 2009.  i look back on the year leah was born, and if i could draw a timeline of my life, that space would have tiny grey clouds hovering over it, with intermittent downpours of rain.  emotionally i disappeared.  it was a tough one, and i lost myself, not emerging from the gray-ness of it for quite a while.

"no more kids during grad school!"

was what i used as my platform, until the day when two pink lines surprisingly showed up without my wishing for them.  and i was terrified, but accepted what was and tried to smile.  following those pink lines came the pregnancy with what felt like unending months of nausea and unable-to-keep-my-head-up exhaustion followed by a house whose underbelly possessed mold that made my children and i beg for mercy as they vomited and i coughed up blood.

"no more kids during grad school!"

i continued to say, though the months with newborn june are some of the most precious i have ever encountered thus far.  i consider her my Gift for living through the most physically taxing year and not succumbing to negativity when i could feel it pulling from all sides to take me under.

"no more kids during grad school!"

i say this now still, and with fervor as we know our future for the next year or two is so muddled and unclear.  not only that, but one important thing has been missing:  the desire for another.  but, this is normal for me.

i have been content from the beginning--if we only had caleb, i would be content.  only caleb and leah, i would be content.  and now with the three, i feel the same, completely content if this is our family unit.  my problem is that my lack of desire is not necessarily an indicator as to whether or not having another child is what is best, because i'm certain that my fear (of pregnancy, labor, colic, and lonely days and nights shouldering most of the responsibility on my own, and another little body to tend to, just in general) is partially what brings about my contentedness.

and yet.

months ago, i knew something was off.  i felt strange--more drained than i was used to, more sore.  i didn't take a test because i didn't want to know.  it feels awful to type those words, and i'm worried who might be offended but i want to write honestly.  so, i waited.  two more weeks went by and i still refused to make anything official.

then, during one week that was already overflowing in stress, i felt it.  pain in my abdomen that doubled me over.  sitting, standing, or laying, i could not find relief.  i don't take a lot of medicine normally, but was unable to function or perform just the daily activities, so i took something, but even that didn't provide relief from the pain.  this went on for 2 days, accompanied with other details of miscarriage i will exclude here.  i didn't say much to anyone, because i hadn't said anything to anyone of the possibility of being pregnant.  only ben and a couple of others knew, and i preferred for it to stay that way.  it was still just an assumption of what was going on.

during that week, i wrote this.  like i mentioned, it was a stressful time.

i think what surprised me most was the feeling of relief.  then, the feeling of guilt piled on top of relief, because what type of person feels relieved about this?  i am surrounded by those who have prayed and would do almost anything to have this, but i am relieved?  

i wrestled with the words selfish and ungrateful, pushing them away with my acknowledgement of the blessing and miracle of life, and of the love i have for my children.  i knew if i could, i would bless everyone who had a desire to have a child with one.  i don't understand why those desires are granted for some and not for others, as much as i didn't understand why the desire was lacking inside of me at this time.

i know others who have felt connected from the start, only weeks or mere days of just knowing.  i have heard them mourn the loss of the connection they loved and had felt so sure of.  with each pregnancy, i struggle to feel any sort of connection--even up until my new baby is placed in my arms. it is then the feeling of an undeniable bond of love from God for this new soul overcomes me and i can't imagine being apart, even for a moment.  but when i'm pregnant, it all feels like a surreal dream or figment of my imagination, and i struggle to feel connected.

this was one of my main purposes for staying silent.  i wasn't sure how to talk about it without sounding cold or callous, though i didn't feel either of those.  i can only describe it as calm acceptance of what is, and the knowledge that my fears of "no more kids during grad school!" had been temporarily washed away.

before my pregnancy with june, and since then, we've been doing what we can on our side of things to prevent.  we jokingly said we were going to name june Three Percent, because those were the odds we had been facing when i held the positive pregnancy test in my hand.  it was obvious to me that i was clearly not in control of this situation, as much as i wanted to be.

last week, i found myself in the same boat.  drained and nauseous, sore and hyper-sensitive to smells.  i was on a work trip, and began counting backwards in weeks, my suspicions mounting.  once the idea was there, i just knew.  there was no denying it.

while i was away i was receiving daily updates from ben about his school situation, regarding whether or not he was going to be allowed to apply for next year's internship.  i could hear in his voice he was devastated and frustrated, and hadn't really wanted to tell him over the phone anyway, so i waited to say anything.

once i was home and he and i were alone to talk, we both tried to wrap our minds around what this meant for our family.  we fell asleep holding hands, a reminder we were in this journey together.

on saturday afternoon, the pain hit, one i had felt once before.  it increased as the sun went down and i lay in bed trying to find a comfortable position.  i told ben about it and saw the worry on his face.  in the middle of the night, i was woken from the pain, and more.  i knew then it was official and lay back down.  the next 24 hours were miserable, and i stayed in bed as much as possible.

after the worst was over, i rose again, ready to face the emotions i expected were awaiting me. but like before, i only felt calm.  ben admitted to me he was sad, that the idea of another sweet little baby turning into a most-likely outspoken toddler turning into an excitable child was something he was looking forward to, though he also knew how difficult it would be.  i agreed with him, the idea of it all sounded wonderful.  it was the getting there that held my heart in the place of fear.

then, i was silently reminded of my theme for 2013, eradicating fear in my life.  if fear is what is holding me back from this opportunity, is it enough of a reason anymore?  this wasn't a new job or a big move, or making myself sing a solo in front of a crowd.  could i really take a leap of faith this big?


i do not know the answers, yet.  i do know i needed to write about these experiences, if only to hold myself accountable--the words a tangible reminder of a promise i made to myself. maybe the beginning of this year was only preparation for getting me to the place at the end of it where i could let down my wall of "no more kids during grad school!"

and instead, embrace the idea of giving up control ruled by fear, leaving me open to beautiful possibilities.

floating with contractions through the river of denial

{here is my denial face.  

i am thinking about eating chocolate on a tropical island somewhere.
it's where i always go.}

when i am pregnant, i am not the type of mother to bond with my children while they are in the womb.  i don't read to them, sing to them, or put headphones on my bare belly playing classical music.  in fact, i have a difficult time even calling them by the name we've picked out for them, or addressing them as "he" or "she."  i usually find myself addressing the baby as "it" and then ben will correct me with a, "you mean, she?"  and then i say, "oh, right. yeah. she."

i don't know why i am this way, but i have to say i don't think it's necessarily a good thing.  i think it says something about my mental state while i'm pregnant....i'm not sure what that is, but it says something, i think.

i know it isn't a new thing, or just related to this pregnancy because i wrote about it when i was 32 weeks pregnant with leah.

mainly i've realized that it's a huge state of denial.  so much so, in fact, that when i actually come to the laboring part of pregnancy and the child pops out, a voice inside my brain seems to scream,

"OH MY GOSH THERE WAS A BABY IN THERE!!  ALL OF THIS TIME?!?  HOW COULD I NOT KNOW THAT??  I WASN'T PREPARED FOR THIS!"

and then i'm handed this tiny being and i am completely overwhelmed.

but, in the end it always turns out okay.  i take it one day at a time and eventually realize that i am the mother of this baby and i did carry he or she in my uterus for 9 months.

i think with this pregnancy in particular i have found myself in such a state of denial.  probably because most of the time i felt i was just coping with what was going on in our lives outside of being pregnant.  one thing after the other seemed to hit for about 7 1/2 months, and it came in waves.  just long enough for me to struggle to the surface and get my bearings before another wave took me under for a week or two....or three.

so when we moved into this new house and started to get settled, and worked in somewhat of a summer routine, i took a breather and really relaxed.  things were simple and quiet again.  {aside from my children, who absolutely love to hear the sound of their own voices at a volume that could probably shatter glass}

until about two weeks ago.  i woke up at 1 a.m. one night, clutching my stomach.  and realized i was doing lamaze breathing without even trying.  it was a contraction, but harder than the normal braxton hicks contractions that i had been having since i was about 5 or 6 months along.  it started in my lower abdomen and wrapped around to my back.  my face felt like it was on fire and i had to concentrate to get through it.  after a minute or so it was over, so i lay back down.  just as i was getting back to sleep, another one started.  i was laying on my side and once it started, i couldn't move, so i just held onto my stomach again, and got through it.  a few minutes later another came.  and then another.  i changed sides, but they didn't stop.  i got up and walked around, went and sat down on the couch.  they didn't stop.

at this point, i was only about 35 weeks along.  and with both of my other two kids, my body had not been cooperative at all when it came to "getting ready" for labor before my due date.  i never dilated on my own, didn't "drop" {don't you love that term?}, wasn't effaced....nothing.  both kids i had under strange circumstances.  so i wasn't quite sure what was going on here.  but i have felt contractions before--real contractions--and these felt pretty similar to them. 

i started to time each one....they were 5 or at the most 6 minutes apart on the dot.  they were not irregular, they were like clockwork.  of course, my "birthing coach" was still snoring soundly in bed at this point and i didn't want to wake him up unless i knew something was going on.  because to be honest, he's kind of grumpy when he's woken up out of sleep.  it's one of the only times that i can say i am more pleasant than him.  when i'm woken up, i pop out of sleep and my brain jumps into place and i'm tired, but good to go.  ben is not only grumpy, but disoriented and confused and usually starts rambling nonsense with his eyebrows scrunched together like he's in an extreme amount of pain, and you {the waker of the wakee} are the cause of it.  so sometimes, it's more trouble than it's worth to wake him up.

i researched the signs of pre-term labor and it looked like i had a majority of the symptoms.  that's when i started to get nervous.  but aside from denial, i also have another problem when it comes to pregnancy and labor:  i just don't trust myself. 

i always talk myself out of things....telling myself i'm paranoid or overreacting or just anxious.  not only that, but it was about 3 a.m. during this point in the game and i knew that i was going to have to wake up a household in order to take myself into the hospital.  and was i really sure that this was labor?

so, i waited it out. 

the contractions went steady until about 5 a.m., when they finally ceased and i could go to sleep.  i woke back up at 7:30, explained to ben what had happened, helped him get the kids ready for church, and went back to sleep because i was so exhausted. 

but i think that was the moment for me.  going from the somewhat comfortable state of pretending my stomach was just growing abnormally large due to icecream, into sudden, consistent contractions woke me up out of my denial with a jolt. 

when ben came home from church he immediately said, 

"so. do we have anything ready for this baby to come?  because maybe we should start thinking about that now.  i know you like to pretend that we still have 3 more months to go, but i'm pretty sure we don't."

and i realized he was right.  i had nothing ready....i hadn't washed any newborn clothes, the bassinette was out in the garage and desperately needing to be washed too, didn't have any newborn diapers, the carseat was also somewhere in the garage, writing out emergency phone numbers and directions for the baby-sitter if i should happen to go into labor in the middle of the night, i didn't have my things packed....and the most embarrassing part??  i didn't even know where the hospital is that i'm delivering at.  now i did know the name of the hospital.  and the general place that it's located.  but that was about it.

so, that next week i tried to wrap my mind around the realization. 

it didn't necessarily work, as far as my mental state.  but things are physically ready now.  mostly anyway.  bassinette, car seat, directions & emergency stuff for the baby-sitter, clothes for the baby, clothes for me.  and i actually drove past the hospital.

go me.

as far as the contractions?  they keep coming.  for a week it was almost every night, at the same time, from 1am-4am.  non-stop, consistent, every 4 minutes.  now it happens every couple of nights.  but every night it happens i talk myself out of doing anything about it.  i have found that a 20 minute, hot shower helps things calm down.

i asked my doctor at the last appointment why it was happening.  and i guess it boils down to my body actually "getting itself ready" this time.  boy, that would be a nice change, to maybe be able to labor at home a little bit when it's the real deal.  though it's a trade-off.  i now know why most women are seriously miserable by the end of their pregnancy.  i've never felt this way before, that i want to just get it over with!  the last two times i've been more worried about labor & then the anxiety of adjusting to life with a newborn that i want to be pregnant for as long as possible.  

i did ask my doctor how i would know the difference between this labor-prep-stuff and real labor.  

his answer?  "you'll just know."

to which i replied, "well i just want you to know that i am the type of person to talk myself out of things.  i tell myself i'm paranoid and to just calm down.  so i'm hoping that i really will 'just know' because otherwise i'm going to find myself at home, boiling hot water and grabbing salad tongs to deliver my own child because i've waited too long.  and to be honest, if that happens?  i'm going to collect the money for the self-delivery."

and then my doctor, who i have never seen laugh before, gave me a little chuckle.  if only he knew i wasn't joking.

so the strader home is ready for baby june.  but is my brain ready for it? .....i mean, her?

not yet, but i'm working on that.  i will admit now that just yesterday as i was eating my morning greek yogurt i looked at the expiration date and realized that the yogurt i was eating would be going bad before ben and i would be the parents of 3 children.  THREE CHILDREN!  what is happening here?!?

i almost passed out.

whether i want to admit it to myself or not, i am actually pregnant.  and there is a baby coming, and soon.

just curious, has anyone else felt this way???  and don't say yes just to make me feel better, or less crazy.  i already know i'm a nut job.  :)

when weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth meet a hormonal pregnant woman.

that is IT.  


IT!


i was waiting to write about the woes of this pregnancy when the black cloud of plague had finally parted and moved away from our house, but it seems like that is never going to happen.


never.


so i'm just going to write, and write honestly.  it may sound like complaining, and it probably is.  but i just don't care anymore.  if anything, this a reminder to myself when i am no longer pregnant what actually happens to me when i am, so that i will be well aware next time of what i am getting into.  you know, in case the next one is planned and all of that.


i am laying next to a sleeping-in-between-violently-vomiting-caleb, and listening to leah cough into the baby monitor, and i am propped up sitting in my new sleeping position so that i can breathe between my own coughing attacks.


here is the thing about this pregnancy.


i had the normal everyday-24-hour-nonstop nausea that started at week 2 {i'm not exaggerating here, that was how i knew so quickly to take the test} and went until almost 4 months along.  but i endured it, hoping for that soon to be rush of feeling better and having more energy.


into the second trimester, the migraines started.  knock on wood, i can actually say that those have calmed down. 


at 20 weeks i suddenly felt like i was punched in the nether-regions so severely that it was painful to put on a pair of pants, roll over in bed, not to mention actually walk.  that feeling has not subsided, and there is nothing so far that i have found that can ease the pain.  i thought i was going crazy until i sent a facebook message out to my recently pregnant friends, asking if any of them have experienced the same thing.  and was relievedslashdisappointed to find out that it is, in fact normal.  not for everyone, only for us lucky ones.


this is separate, by the way, from the sharp, jabbing pain {aka round ligament pain} on both sides of my abdomen that i get every time i roll over or get up too quickly.  not the same thing, or even close.  that is a fleeting pain, like a charley horse.  this nether-regions pain is constant.


at 22 weeks i had what i can only imagine was a pelvic bone pop out of joint for an entire day, leaving me bent over, unable to even stand up straight.  that day i had to call ben crying, asking for him to please come home early because i couldn't even imagine picking up leah to put her in the tub & pull her back out, let alone walk up the stairs to get to the bathtub.  my fear was that it would continue, and i was going to have to call in for extra help.  luckily, at about 2am that night, i sllllooowwwllyyy rolled over in bed and cried out in pain as something in my lower abdomen/upper left thigh made a loud POP! and i immediately felt relief.  


but let's just try to chalk all of these things up to the woes of pregnancy, shall we?  


that's fine, i can deal with it.


what i can't deal with, and had a somewhat emotional breakdown last week over....is that i have these things going on combined with what has felt like continual sickness between caleb, leah and myself since, oh....october?  november?  


two sinus infections, strep throat, the stomach flu twice, on top of just the "normal" flu and colds multiple times.  round and round and round we go.  i was so excited during spring break that we were actually healthy and the thought crossed my mind that we were through the worst of it.  then the weekend came, and it looks like we still aren't, and with this new barfing caleb i am doing all i can to muster up positive thoughts that the rest of us will avoid this one.  because honestly, i'm still recovering from my last one that started two weeks ago!


it's interesting for this self-proclaimed germaphobe to now have the tables turned.


when now, we are are the germ.


i have done more laundry in these few months than i have in my entire lifetime combined, i'm sure.  i keep changing sheets, pillowcases, washing blankets and stuffed animals and towels.  i have sanitized everything.  i wash our toothbrushes in the dishwasher. i vacuum and dust, and lysol wipe it all down.  bathe the kids every day. it's never ending.


so yes, i had an emotional breakdown.  last thursday to be exact.  after coming home from my doctor's appointment, discouraged that i had another sinus infection, that it hurt just to walk, that both of my kids were sick, and that i felt like i hadn't really enjoyed this pregnancy....that is the truth.  not really, not for one minute.  


i had called ben who was watching leah during my appointment, to tell him that the baby was confirmed a girl, and he said on the other line, "oh, that's great.  congratulations."  not in a mean way, but in a somewhat distant way.  and i became really sad, because i knew the tone in his voice echoed exactly my own feelings.  i have been distant from pretty much any joy i am supposed to be feeling right now, because the only thing i have been feeling for the past few months is,


push, push, push.


i push myself to do just the daily household responsibilities.  i push myself to do anything more than that like deep clean.  i push myself to wake up to take caleb to school in the morning.  i push myself to fulfill my church calling....which should be a relatively simple one, yet in true karma fashion, we are constantly getting sick either the day before or the day of that 11-15 girls are supposed to show up to my house for an activity.  i push myself to do anything fun with my friends, i push myself to put make-up on.  i push myself to go on a vacation, and while i'm on that vacation, i push myself to do anything but sleep.


not only have i pushed myself physically when i haven't felt well, but i think the real straw that broke the camel's back is that i've pushed myself emotionally.  i have been worried about caleb, and about his legs, but i haven't really let myself go there yet.  because we've just been coping with so many other things, i have not dealt with and really let myself feel the worry.  a couple of times i have talked about my concerns, and that i'm anxious about the upcoming tests.  but mostly i've just pushed through.  


i'm also anxious about this upcoming baby....i always get anxious about newborns.  probably because my first experience with one was traumatic and my second experience with one was just exhausting.  those 10 hour crying bouts took their toll as well.  i'm usually the one pregnant girl who doesn't want the baby to come early, no matter how uncomfortable i am.  so knowing that the months are creeping by and i'm getting closer to "go time" without really working through or dealing with my anxiety about it is also taking its toll.


for 90% of the week, i am on my own in this.  ben is gone almost every week day by 6:30 am, and not home until somewhere around 9:30 or 10 pm.  he used to have fridays clear, which was so fantastic.  but lately his homework has been piling on, so he has been gone most fridays to meet with professors or to do hours worth of homework.  saturdays are our only day to work on the yard, and try to help me get caught up, and to spend a little time together.  on sundays he has a church calling, so even if i do feel well enough to go, i am usually home with one of our sick kids and have to go to the 1:00 sacrament meeting by myself.


so thursday, i rushed home from the doctor so that ben could leave for class, and walked in the door feeling completely deflated and discouraged.  


and started to cry.


"iamjustsosickofbeingsickandtiredandourkidsbeingsosickandtired!" i blubbered with tears streaming down my face.


and ben, who is so good to me, gave me a big hug and told me how sorry he was.  


i knew that he is just as overwhelmed in his situation as i am in mine.  i know he feels alone with the weight of his schoolwork and providing and helping, just as alone as i feel in my position.  we are both being pushed to the brink again.


and the problem is, when people have offered to help, i don't know how to take them up on it.  sure, want to me to send over my vomiting child to play with yours?  can you help pop my pelvic bone back into place?  can you put some mascara on for me?


so instead, i isolate.  


which i know isn't healthy, i just don't know what to even ask for, when asking for help.  so i just don't.  


except on facebook, which i am absolutely certain my friends are seriously sick and tired of me venting about our million diseases and how sick of it i am.  i'm grateful for their support though, and even though i feel like a total whiner, it helps just to have someone say that they're sorry for what we're going through, or that they've been there & it will get better.


i'd like to say that once the tears with ben were through, that i felt better.  but holy cow, thursday was an emotional roller coaster for me.  


i completely fell apart in my therapy group, so much so that when i could feel it coming, i almost got up and left just because i knew it was going to get ugly.  and i think i should have listened to that instinct, because i have never cried so hard in front of a crowd before.  you know when you can't even get words out because your throat is so tight?  and then when words come out, they squeak out instead of sound normal?   and when i was actually getting the words out i felt like such a big, enormous baby.  


i'm sobbing over being sick so much?  really?


the girls were all really nice, and didn't treat me like i was a wuss.  and have been really kind and concerned since then, but it's just so hard for me to get all vulnerable that way with people.  i have had support.  andrea has been such a good friend, and so great to listen to me complain, and to show up with a treat at just the right time.  and there are friends in the ward who have reached out, and i know i need to let someone help.  like i said though, i just don't know what to ask for.


sigh, sigh, sigh.


this writing is good, it definitely helps.  it helps me to put things into perspective.


life is not unbearable right now.  but i'm also going to let myself say that it has been hard.  i've been through harder things, but that doesn't mean that this isn't hard on me.  


i have been taking care of caleb in between writing this.  my poor little guy.  it's so hard to not be able to take this from him.  the way things have been going though, i'm sure i will get my turn.  okay, that's cynical.  honest, but cynical.  


i'm going to go and cough up a lung and then get as much rest as i can now, since caleb is finally sleeping.  


and as soon as this black cloud has parted, you will see the most positive post ever from me.  


i know i should edit this, a re-read it before i post it, because i may regret it in the morning.  but i'm totally not going to.








thanks for letting me vent.








and p.s.?  i just emailed our landlords with a request for a mold inspector to come out here.  just in case.