Won't Be Like This For Long

It was by no accident that I randomly decided to go through the old baby clothes in the garage today.

First, I came across this zipper pj with the feet cut off. Brady went through a phase of smearing poop all over his room. It happened A LOT. We had to cut the feet off multiple pj sets and make him wear them backwards. I thought he would NEVER stop doing it. I thought he would NEVER poop in the big potty. But, it wasn't like that for long.

 

I came across this old college shirt that was Beemer's.

I thought my husband would NEVER get through college. But, he did!

It wasn't like that for long.

 

 Not only did it feel like he would NEVER get through college,

I had little hope that he would ever quit working in retail loss prevention

(not for lack of belief in him, but it just felt like forever!)

Thankfully, it wasn't like this for long.

 

I absolutely, positively didn't think that I would EVER, EVER get to quit working.

But, when the police job came along, there was a ray of hope.

Those two years felt very long, but in reality it wasn't like that for long.

I came across this precious little newborn shirt I bought

for Sister the day we found out she was a girl.

(That in and of itself was a miracle considering she was the

first girl in 150 years in my husband's bloodline!)

I thought I would NEVER quit being pregnant,

but it wasn't like that for long!

Alas, she arrived. She was a spitter. Acid reflux.

Sleepless nights, a two year old, and a newborn spitter/screamer.

I am certain I thought I would NEVER survive.

But, here I am! It wasn't like that for long.

(Though, I'm sure those yellow stains will last forever!)

The thing is, I've been so frustrated lately with these little

bundles of joy I'm not even sure how to describe them some days.

It was no accident that I went through these boxes.

It was so easy for me to see how quickly each of those phases passed

and how quickly the current ones will pass as well.

It won't be like this for long. 

Darius Rucker has an amazing song "It Won't Be Like This for Long". 

Check it out here on youtube. Grab some Kleenex, you'll need them :)
I hung on to this song those first few months with Sister
and have tried my best to enjoy every stage for what it is
since I know it won't last forever.

My alarm clock

My alarm clock has legs and walks
It wakes me up with a mouth that talks

My alarm clock is not easily snoozed
It wakes me up asking for food

My alarm clock is honestly cute
It wakes me up wanting fruit

My alarm clock cannot be turned down
Some days I'd like to send it out of town

204,633,600 Hours

8 years

96 months

2920 days

2 births

19 birthdays

8 Anniversary Celebrations

 

2 graduations

1 baptism

2 baby dedications

1 swearing in

2 churches

416 Sundays

2 small groups

1 flag football team

8 jobs

6 cars

2 trucks

2 motorcycles

2 homes

2 cities

2 Washers

2 Dryers

2 Dishwashers

2 Remodels

3 Mattresses

5 computers

5 vacations

1 cruise

1 military welcome home

8 plane rides

4 dogs

5 foster boxers

2 puppies

1 gecko

3 stray cats ran out of the yard

8 Christmases

2 Christmas Trees

2 ICE Exhibits

2 faithful people

1 faithful God

Countless weddings.

Too many funerals.

Countless trips to the country.

Too many hours in the car.

A few fights.

Too many arguments.

Countless sunrises.

Countless good night phone conversations.

Too many nights apart.

A few stressful seasons.

Countless faithful provisions.

Too many miracles to count.

Eight years and counting. Not merely surviving, but thriving.

What God has joined, let no man separate. Matthew 19:6

Simba

For my son's fourth birthday he got The Lion (and the) King, as he likes to call it. Look at those cute babies watching Simba on screen. I can't beleive how many of the words I remember to those songs!

I got to thinking about cute little Simba today and how I can be so much like him at times. The thing about Simba is that he didn't know and believe the truth about himself as the son of the king. He ran away and cowered at the lies that were told to him by his uncle. It wasn't until those lies were dispelled that Simba fought for and took his rightful place as King.

Isn't that what Satan does to us? You might as well just call him Scar. He condemns us for things we haven't even done wrong, he sells us lies about ourselves. And we, like Simba, believe him. We run away from what is rightfully ours as sons and daughters of the most high King. We forfeit the power we could have.

If you have a relationship with Christ, I encourage you to find out the truths about yourself. You might be surprised :) Look them up in the word of God. I won't tell you what they are, because I want you to discover them for yourself. In our technological society we are putting way too much belief into what everybody is telling us on their blogs and articles. While they may be founded and true, I find it overwhelming. God has given me everything I need in His word and the more I read everybody else's advice and convictions, the more stressed out I feel. When you find these truths, consider a special marking for those truths in your Bible and mark them every time you find one new. (Always underline in a certain color, a certain highlighter, circles, etc.) Hold on to them and throw them in the face of the enemy every time he tells you a lie.

Ecclesiastes 12:12 But beyond this, my son, be warned: the writing of many books is endless, and excessive devotion to books is wearying to the body. 

Analyze It, and Think About it Some More

I'm the QUEEN of over analyzing. I mean, seriously ya'll, the QUEEN. You can't beat me in this department!

Over analyzing is a huge thorn in my side. I get so caught up in analyzing the most unimportant stuff. "Should I have said that? Should I being doing this? Should I watch this show? Should I have this thing?" I read into everything I see and hear wondering if it meant anything. I call my friends and ask their advice. I worry and fret over the tiniest of things.

The sad part is that in doing this I miss out on seeing and hearing other things that are far more important. I pray in angst over something petty instead of praying for the salvation of a friend. I read into everything I hear and miss other messages that were more important. I fixate on the smallest of details. Some things are just not worth my breath and the wasted pages in my journal.

"Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things." Colossians 3:2

Additionally, I become legalistic in the process. I forget that there's not anything I can do to earn God's grace. He didn't save me because He saw how good I was. He didn't save me because He knew how good I would become (good thing that's not His criteria). He saved me because of His mercy. Our pastor this weekend said multiple times that Satan doesn't care if you never sin again, He cares that you don't know Jesus. When I become so tied up with every little detail of life, I forget to see Jesus and His grace. I cheapen what He's done for me. It doesn't matter if I never, ever sin again. That will not earn me grace.


"he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit" Titus 3:5

Sometimes I get so caught up in waiting for God to give me some big revelation that I forget that He has already done that! It's called His Word. I'm not saying that I don't additionally seek God's wisdom and that you shouldn't either. But, here recently, I'm learning that sometimes I might just need to see if my decision lines up with what He's already told me in His Word. If my decision falls in line with that then maybe I can move on with my life and quit analyzing it. He gave me those words for a reason. He breathed them onto the page just for me and just for you too.

"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path." Psalm 119:105

My Birth (And Near Death) Story Pt.1

Because every blog has a birth story right?
And, when God gives you a miracle you should tell people about it!

Little Beemer, shortly after birth.
I can't tell you how many times I heard "look at all that hair!"

July 5, 2008, my grandpa's birthday, was our due date for our very first little bundle of joy. I was working full time and worked up until July 3rd, which was a Thursday. I was to be induced Monday if he didn't come sooner. I really did NOT want to be induced. I started feeling like it was going to happen that weekend. Just kind of a hunch, and my body felt different somehow.

Fourth of July rolls around and we head out to a party at our friend's place (who by the way, has labor-inducing stairs). It was a pool party, but I had the good sense to stay out of the pool that day. (Like I said before, things were changing. If you've had a baby you know what I mean!) My husband asked if we should take the hospital bag with us, to which I said no. I guess I didn't think we would actually go into labor! On the way to the party I told him "We better not get there and have to leave because I go into labor."

Well, that's exactly what happened. I went up those labor-inducing stairs and started doing what all pregnant women do. Eat. I had just enough time to down some queso and other stuff you do NOT want to have in your tummy when you're in labor. Up comes my best friend, who gives me a hug, and POP. Something happened in my stomach that I can only describe as the feeling of a balloon popping followed by the feeling of peeing on myself.

I didn't say anything and immediately took myself to the bathroom. There was a slow trickle, but I wanted to make SURE I didn't just pee on myself before I started telling my friends. Suddenly, I became very shy. My friends like to retell the story that I walked around and whispered to them "Hey, I think my water just broke." WHAT?! Your water broke?! Why are you being quiet about it?

So, we headed to the hospital. My husband, for whatever reason, was suddenly in a HUGE hurry. Like I was going to be lucky enough to have the baby come out of me on the way to the hospital. Oh, I would give anything for that experience compared to what I got. I tried to go home for my bag, he wouldn't take me. Within a few minutes of being in the car it became very obvious that my water in fact had broken. I started having contractions, and with every one more of that fluid came out. By the time we got to the hospital I was soaked. I was embarrassed to walk in. I remember the person who got on the elevator with me let me go first. I thought for sure they couldn't see the huge wet spot on me.

Here we are before the real pain began, still looking happy.

From there, things went pretty quickly. My water broke around 4:00 and around 10:30 I was 7cm. In between that time I, regretfully, accepted narcotics in my IV while waiting my epidural. I experienced a lot of shaking and a lot of anxiety. I had no idea shaking in labor was so normal. I would absolutely not take narcotics again and would not reccomend them to someone else in labor. It was not a good experience. The epidural, however, was glorious. I was terrified of getting it, it was absolutely no big deal. I barely felt it when they numbed me up and the pain just melted away. In fact, maybe a little too much. Around 11pm I called my nurse to tell them I was feeling extreme pressure. My nurse was on break, but the fill in nurse agreed to check me even though it had only been 30 minutes. She checked and said "You're 10cm, time to push!" Up went the stirrups, just like that. My parents were in the room, along with my a friend and my husband.

And here I am after awful narcotics. Big difference!

After 2.5 hours of this fun stuff, the doctor came in and said "You have a fever, you've developed and infection and this baby needs to come out." We could see his head, but he wouldn't come far enough down to crown (my husband likes to say his hair made it's appearance on Fourth of July, gross). I honestly think I just did not know what I was doing and my epidural was so strong I wasn't feeling anything. The nurse later told me my pelvis was very narrow. My doctor disagrees, but I think having birthed without an epidural would have done me a lot of favors. Not much you can do for your pelvis when you're on your back.

They told me they could either use forceps or do a c-section. They said the forceps would cause some damage that sounded pretty bad to me. So, in the moment, I opted for a c-section. I'm still not sure if I made the right decision, but the fact that I had a c-section is one of my only regrets in life. I hate it.

Ready for surgery! I have the funniest video of my husband spinning in circles, videoing himself, on a doctor chair.
He was telling the camera that they'd just taken me back and showed us the time.

My shaking had finally calmed down, but as soon as they started prepping me I started again. I was terrified. I remember asking the anesthesiologist "What if I can feel them cut into me?" And, I remember him telling me "They already did." Weird! I didn't feel any pain, but I quickly started to feel them tugging him out of me at which point I went into all-out panic mode and kicked off the leg strap, it left a bruise across my thigh. The anesthesiologist said "I'm going to give you a margarita." I thought "I'm going to NEED one when I get out of here!" The room started spinning. Next thing I knew, I was awake, my husband was holding little Beemer and I felt like I was suffocating from the drugs. Apparently he was born at 1:34am. I couldn't tell you, I was out cold.

We made it to our room around 4:30 and the next three hours were the best part of the whole experience. My husband slept, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just hung out with my little man, tried to nurse, looked at him. It was wonderful and was a huge blessing considering what was about to come.

Fast forward 9 hours or so. My in-laws and my best friend and her husband are in my room (remember, the one who hugged me and my water broke). My parents were on their way to the hospital. The baby went to the nursery with our pediatrician, I never saw them come back. I started experiencing immense pain in my side. My husband took everyone to the waiting room. The nurse came in and gave me pain meds, they weren't even touching the pain. I said I think I'm just being anxious, I'm seeing fireworks. She took my BP, it was 60 over 40. She said, nope you're not being anxious. My husband, in the waiting room, heard "Rapid Response Team Room 225." Without saying a word, he high tailed it to my room where they were wheeling out a crash cart.

Click here for Part 2.

The (And Near Death) Part (Pt. 2)

Multiple doctors, nurses, etc. came to my aid. Fortunately, the crash cart was being wheeled out because I didn't need it. The pain was worsening and I think I had my eyes closed for most of it because I mostly remember hearing, and not seeing, what was going on. The nurse could feel that my side was feeling up with blood and growing in size by the minute. I remember the doctor calling for a sonogram, and calling again saying that when she said NOW she meant NOW. We didn't wait for it. She told me I was bleeding internally, they would take me to surgery and repair it. They would remove my uterus if they had to. Needless to say, they didn't. And, did I have any questions? "Am I going to die?" I think I asked that, in between desperate prayers, until they transferred me over to the operating table in a very bright, white room.

I woke up in ICU. Coming out of anesthesia is a horrible feeling. I felt smothered. My throat was killing me from the tube that had been down it. They wouldn't let me drink anything in case I had to go back into surgery. It was so annoying. I begged every person who came in to give me one more ice chip. They said if that was my biggest complaint they were really happy. The pain in my side and abdomen was excruciating. Labor pain was nothing compared to this. I pushed the morphine pump as fast as I could for the next five days. When they took me to surgery they knew I was bleeding, what they didn't know was that I had ruptured my uterine artery. This artery pumps blood at a very high rate after you've had a baby. This complication is almost unheard of. To this day, they can't tell me why it happened.

Daddy giving baby a bottle. I have a lot of pictures like this,
of other people other than me in my hospital bed!
My husband stayed in my PP room while I was in ICU.

For five more days, I laid in ICU. I didn't shower. I didn't brush my teeth. I didn't spend more than 3 hours at a time with my baby. They did me a huge favor by jumping through many hoops to make those 3 hours happen. I didn't nurse and I didn't pump until about the 4th day. I don't think I got out of bed for 3 days or so, when my bowels woke up. They kept waiting for them to wake up and when they did I knew it! They had this little toilet that opened up out of a cabinet that I had to use. My heart rate was over 100 for the full five days, part of the reason I stayed in ICU so long. There was one doctor who made me extremely anxious, every time he came in the door my heart rate would sky rocket. One day, after he left, it stayed in the 120s for a good hour or so. I was burning up. I remember my parents came in the room and sat under one tiny blanket because it was so cold in there. The day my heart rate came down, I made them turn up the air. It was freezing in there.

Family picture in the ICU. The hospital gave me this pillow for hugging and coughing.
They also jumped through major hoops to get Beemer up to my room.
He shouldn't have been able pass the doors on the PP floor due to security reasons.

I finally was released to a room where I spent another 5 days. Seven of my days in the hospital I was getting 3 types of antibiotics by IV. They came in, in the middle of the night, and put a pic line in my arm. I had no idea what it was until it came out, about a 12" line that ran into my chest. If I'd known they never would have put it in me! That pic line kept them from having to continuously poke me as they were taking blood 3 times a day and also running my antibiotics multiple times.

Here I am, out of ICU, wrapping up my arm with a onesie and a barf bag
so I can take a shower without wetting my pic line.

When I made it back to my room, I was detached from the baby and still very anxious. I had to wait 24 hours for the pain meds to wear off before I could try nursing (It had now then been 6 days). Naively, I had decided in my mind I was going to nurse and never thought it wouldn't work. I know now it was a miracle I went home nursing a baby who had spent 6 days on a bottle. Not to mention, the blood loss I had should have killed any chance at nursing. I had received 10 units of blood. My body contains about 8. Needless to say, I wouldn't be here today if people didn't donate their blood. I am eternally grateful. I finally was able to nurse and then my doctor ordered a test on my ureter. They ran iodine through my arm and it came full force into my bladder. They wouldn't let me go to the bathroom until all the fluid had gone through my entire system and my bladder was spilling over. They needed multiple sets of xrays of the process. It was not fun. I was so mad because I then had to wait another 24 hours to nurse again. In the end of it, I went home nursing and was thrilled.

Slow feeding Beemer a bottle. They told us to do a suck, suck, twist the bottle routine.
This way he wouldn't think the bottle was super fast and awesome and not want to nurse.

Love him!

On the 10th day, we finally took our little baby home. I remember laying him in his bed and being amazed at how tiny he looked. I remember being in shock at how incredibly quiet our house was compared to the hospital, I wanted to cry. I loved every minute of it. Of course, I was exhausted, and still in bad pain for a few weeks. But, I was on a high from this little life that I now had. I am forever grateful to the doctors who took care of me and to the blood donors who literally saved my life. And of course, I am grateful to God, who ultimately protected me. I distinctly remember one of the doctors coming in and saying there was a three letter word that saved my life that day, AGE. I told him I thought it was God. I'm grateful to all my friends who poured into the hospital to visit me and little Beemer, we had so much support.

Back in my room, looking alive again!

 
If I could tell pregnant women anything I would say two things. One, c-sections are not minor surgery. Things can and DO go wrong. I'm sorry, but this opting for a c-section thing is NUTS. Be informed. Two, I really do believe that epidurals prohibit us from putting our body in position to birth a baby. Again, be informed, and consider that decision. I don't know if I have the guts to birth a baby without an epidural, but the pain I experienced was far, far greater than what I would have.

Snuggles in ICU.

Thanks for hanging with me and reading! (I assume somebody has made it to the end of this saga). And many thanks to God for this experience. It was a good/bad experience. I faced many fears and relied on God to get me through it. While I wouldn't wish it on anybody, I am glad to be able to say I've experienced a miracle in my life.

Back for a visit a few weeks later, one of my many great nurses.

I love you little man!