I rarely go out for lunch during the work week. 99% of the time I bring my own lunch - pretty much leftovers or a salad made at home. But occasionally, I go grab lunch somewhere near my office because nothing at home appeals to me to bring for a lunch.
Several weeks ago my husband had to go to Indonesia for work. He had a connecting flight in Australia and had a bit of a layover there. While he was there, he used our joint credit card. Because of that, our account was flagged and frozen. It was unknown to me, as it happened in the wee hours of the night, back here in Wisconsin.
That morning I decided to have the rare treat of getting out of the office to grab lunch. There is a sandwich place just down the road from my office. And because there isn't really any "fast food" places near my office, this place is usually my default place to go. They do have good sandwiches. I've been there many times in the nine years I've been working at my office.
Just before lunch I was cleaning out my wallet and for reasons I don't remember, or can't even fathom what I was thinking, I took my cash and my bank card out of my wallet and set them on my desk. I really can't remember my reasoning. I think I was planning at stopping at the bank after work, but I don't know why I took my cash and card out. I rarely use my bank card, but always have it with me. Except this time.
I ordered my sandwich, chatted with the cashier a little, then handed over my card to pay. He told me my card was declined. Automatic panic from me. That is a horrible, sinking feeling. My first thought was, "Someone stole our information and maxed out the card." Then I remembered that my husband had a layover in Australia. I said to the cashier, "My husband is traveling home from Indonesia and I bet he used the card at his stop in Australia. It must have been flagged." In my heart of hearts, I was certain that was the problem. Then I remembered that I had taken my bank card and cash out of my wallet and I had NOTHING. Another sinking feeling. I was so embarrassed. I said, "I have no other card or cash. I can't pay for this." My sandwich was made by now and waiting for me at the end of the counter. "I have to leave my lunch here," I said. As I was saying these words the cashier reached in his back pocket, took out his wallet and swiped his card so fast that I barely had time to protest. "Don't worry about it," he said. "No," I said, "you don't have to do that." "Too late. I already did it." Tears instantly sprung to my eyes. Out of both gratitude and embarrassment. "No," I said through tears. I could barely look at him. "Yep," he said, "Have a great day." I whispered, "Thank you," because anything above a whisper would have been the sound of a crying mess. I kind of half nodded at the additional two workers behind the counter and said, "Thank you," without trying to look them in the eye too much. I was so embarrassed that I was so emotional over the whole thing. I was in a vicious cycle of embarrassment!
I have paid for strangers' meals before, but I have never had a stranger pay for mine. It was a random act of kindness that I'll never forget.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Monday, June 22, 2015
Until we meet again, Aunt Mary
And now it's time to write the blog post that I've been dreading for a few months now: a tribute to my Great-Aunt Mary. She went to heaven Friday evening, finally letting go and leaving us to remember her.
Aunt Mary was my grandpa's only sister and she was the last one of my grandpa's immediate family. She now joins her parents and two brothers in Heaven. A few months ago, when she was almost 91, she was diagnosed with cancer. So she spent her last few months here on Earth, in hospice care at home, with her husband, Clarence. When I found out she was ill, I cried often and the sadness would catch me off guard, at odd times.
Aunt Mary was joyful all of the time. She always had a smile on! She had a sharp sense of humor and a bit of a quick wit. One of her gifts was making you feel important when you had a conversation with her. She was interested in what the other person was saying, and she often touched you as she spoke - an arm around you, or her hand on yours. She was one of the most sincere people I have ever known. The funny thing is, as I think about it, I don't think I ever had a one-on-one experience with Aunt Mary. Every time I saw her, it was at a family function with dozens of people around. But just having a one-on-one conversation made me feel like I was the only other person around her.
She had the steadfast trust and faith in Jesus that many believers strive for. She often spoke about her faith and would weave it into conversation. She was just covered with the joy of Jesus. You could see it in her dancing eyes.
Growing up, "Aunt Mary's Cabin" was a summer tradition. Every year, my family would drive up near Spooner, Wisconsin, on the first Sunday in August and spend the day at Mary and Clarence's rustic little cabin. No bathroom, just an outhouse. A tiny kitchen, One bedroom where the girls would change into their bathing suits. The boys changed out in the shed. There was a small screened in porch and my favorite feature of the cabin was the two-person bench swing that hung from the ceiling. The roof of that room was open beams where you would find life jackets and canoe paddles stacked up there. The gathering was always a pot luck with lots of food, followed by some swimming and maybe a speed boat ride. This gathering of Aunt Mary's family, my grandpa's family, and their brother, Arden's family had been happening every summer, at the same place, since my dad was a kid. As the years went by, the group of people grew as the generations got married and had children. Uncle Clarence would often direct all of the cars as to where they should park as we crammed onto the lot. Every year, after the swimming was over and people were ready to leave, Aunt Mary would have each family gather and take their photo. Every single person that was there, every single year. She loved her family! Several years ago we moved the reunion to the cabin that my dad and his brother co-own. Aunt Mary and Uncle Clarence were too elderly to host any longer. But they still came to our cabin.
So I saw Aunt Mary at least once a year - always a guarantee at our "Paulson cabin" day. But I would often see her several times a year - at family weddings, graduation open houses, or bridal showers. She always had time to chat with me, catching me up on her kids and three grand-daughters. She was so proud of her family! They really were her pride and joy.
When I became a bride in 2011, Aunt Mary gave me one of my most treasured positions. She gave me a blue plate that had belonged to her mother, my great-grandmother. I never met my great-grandmother. She passed away when my dad was in jr. high. The plate was given to my great-grandmother by her sister. And Aunt Mary kept it for years, finally passing it down to me. I treasure it and it is displayed in my kitchen as a reminder of the women who came before me and loved their families, raising them to be kind people who love Jesus and serve others. I work to carry on the legacy with my family.
Last year, Aunt Mary had a 90th birthday party. She was in fine form. She was still in good health - moving around as though she was a spry 70-something, instead of the 90-year-old she had become. She was mingling with everyone there to celebrate her well-lived 90 years. Her children told her life story and we were all so happy to honor her in the way she deserved. She of course was joking around, connecting with her loved ones, being her usual joyful self. And she wore a crown the entire time. It was a wonderful party and I'm so glad I got to be there.
When I found out that Aunt Mary had fallen ill, I sent her a card. I sat at my kitchen table and let the tears roll as I wrote to her and told her that I want to be just like her - joyful in Jesus, having a positive attitude, and fiercely loving those people God has blessed me with and given to me as family.
I will miss you Aunt Mary. But as you have trusted Jesus as your Savior and I have done the same, we are daughters of a King and will reunite some day in Heaven. I am certain that when you met the arms of Jesus, He said to you, "Well done, my good and faithful servant." A life well lived that continues on in the hearts and memories of those who loved you so dearly.
Aunt Mary was my grandpa's only sister and she was the last one of my grandpa's immediate family. She now joins her parents and two brothers in Heaven. A few months ago, when she was almost 91, she was diagnosed with cancer. So she spent her last few months here on Earth, in hospice care at home, with her husband, Clarence. When I found out she was ill, I cried often and the sadness would catch me off guard, at odd times.
 |
| Aunt Mary and Uncle Clarence |
 |
| Talking with Aunt Mary in our receiving line at our wedding reception. |
Growing up, "Aunt Mary's Cabin" was a summer tradition. Every year, my family would drive up near Spooner, Wisconsin, on the first Sunday in August and spend the day at Mary and Clarence's rustic little cabin. No bathroom, just an outhouse. A tiny kitchen, One bedroom where the girls would change into their bathing suits. The boys changed out in the shed. There was a small screened in porch and my favorite feature of the cabin was the two-person bench swing that hung from the ceiling. The roof of that room was open beams where you would find life jackets and canoe paddles stacked up there. The gathering was always a pot luck with lots of food, followed by some swimming and maybe a speed boat ride. This gathering of Aunt Mary's family, my grandpa's family, and their brother, Arden's family had been happening every summer, at the same place, since my dad was a kid. As the years went by, the group of people grew as the generations got married and had children. Uncle Clarence would often direct all of the cars as to where they should park as we crammed onto the lot. Every year, after the swimming was over and people were ready to leave, Aunt Mary would have each family gather and take their photo. Every single person that was there, every single year. She loved her family! Several years ago we moved the reunion to the cabin that my dad and his brother co-own. Aunt Mary and Uncle Clarence were too elderly to host any longer. But they still came to our cabin.
So I saw Aunt Mary at least once a year - always a guarantee at our "Paulson cabin" day. But I would often see her several times a year - at family weddings, graduation open houses, or bridal showers. She always had time to chat with me, catching me up on her kids and three grand-daughters. She was so proud of her family! They really were her pride and joy.
 |
| Having a conversation with Aunt Mary |
When I became a bride in 2011, Aunt Mary gave me one of my most treasured positions. She gave me a blue plate that had belonged to her mother, my great-grandmother. I never met my great-grandmother. She passed away when my dad was in jr. high. The plate was given to my great-grandmother by her sister. And Aunt Mary kept it for years, finally passing it down to me. I treasure it and it is displayed in my kitchen as a reminder of the women who came before me and loved their families, raising them to be kind people who love Jesus and serve others. I work to carry on the legacy with my family.
 |
| The gift of a plate that belonged to my great-grandmother |
Last year, Aunt Mary had a 90th birthday party. She was in fine form. She was still in good health - moving around as though she was a spry 70-something, instead of the 90-year-old she had become. She was mingling with everyone there to celebrate her well-lived 90 years. Her children told her life story and we were all so happy to honor her in the way she deserved. She of course was joking around, connecting with her loved ones, being her usual joyful self. And she wore a crown the entire time. It was a wonderful party and I'm so glad I got to be there.
When I found out that Aunt Mary had fallen ill, I sent her a card. I sat at my kitchen table and let the tears roll as I wrote to her and told her that I want to be just like her - joyful in Jesus, having a positive attitude, and fiercely loving those people God has blessed me with and given to me as family.
 |
| At Aunt Mary's 90th birthday party |
 |
| Aunt Mary and Uncle Clarence |
Monday, June 8, 2015
A bridal shower for a book worm
A few weeks ago I was a co-hostess for a bridal shower for my cousin, Heather. In thinking about Heather and what she's all about, watching her grow up, and spending time with her over the years, I decided to throw her a themed shower and the choice was obvious. Heather loves reading. When she had her Senior pictures taken a few years ago, she had some really cute poses with books. She has been an avid book reader, devouring hundreds and hundreds of books.
One search for book themed showers on Pinterest and all sorts of ideas are out there. I decided to keep it simple, on a small budget, and not go overboard.
I started with invitations. I wanted invitations made out of actual library cards in a jacket, but for the number of invitations I needed, it was too expensive. But I found a great designer on Etsy.
The link to these invitations on Etsy is here: http://etsy.me/1QFD8gH
It is a pdf file and the seller was very easy to work with. After a few correspondence back and forth, she sent me the pdf and I printed them myself on cardstock, cut them down, and tossed them in envelopes I already had in my craft stash.
I stuck a note in each invitation and asked that each guest bring their favorite book to the shower. I assured them that the book would be returning home with them. When guests arrived to the party, we stacked up the books. When it was time for Heather to open the gifts she had to chose a book off the pile and try and guess which guest had brought the book. Then when the owner was revealed (if she didn't guess correctly) she opened the gift from that person. It made the gift opening interactive, but after getting a few wrong, Heather was over the guessing. She was a good sport and finished the pile.
For decorations, we tried to keep it cheap and simple, and within the theme of books. I found an old paperback book in my personal library and ripped out pages. Then I cut the pages into about 2" wide strips and made a couple of paper chains. We hung the long one across the living room window and a shorter one across the fireplace mantle.
I made a banner from book pages that said, "Happily Ever After." I printed out a large font, cut out the letters, traced them onto a book page, cut out the letter from the page, cut squares for the backing, glued the letters to the squares, punched 2 holes in each square, and threaded it all onto a ribbon.
I couldn't get a good shot of the whole banner, so here it is in pieces.
We had a couple of tables out on the deck, so to dress up the tables a little, I made simple centerpieces from objects around the house. I took the dust jackets off of hard cover books and stacked items on top of them. All I was looking for were books with a good color...I didn't want all of them to be black or gray. Snoozeville!
One search for book themed showers on Pinterest and all sorts of ideas are out there. I decided to keep it simple, on a small budget, and not go overboard.
I started with invitations. I wanted invitations made out of actual library cards in a jacket, but for the number of invitations I needed, it was too expensive. But I found a great designer on Etsy.
The link to these invitations on Etsy is here: http://etsy.me/1QFD8gH
It is a pdf file and the seller was very easy to work with. After a few correspondence back and forth, she sent me the pdf and I printed them myself on cardstock, cut them down, and tossed them in envelopes I already had in my craft stash.
I stuck a note in each invitation and asked that each guest bring their favorite book to the shower. I assured them that the book would be returning home with them. When guests arrived to the party, we stacked up the books. When it was time for Heather to open the gifts she had to chose a book off the pile and try and guess which guest had brought the book. Then when the owner was revealed (if she didn't guess correctly) she opened the gift from that person. It made the gift opening interactive, but after getting a few wrong, Heather was over the guessing. She was a good sport and finished the pile.
For decorations, we tried to keep it cheap and simple, and within the theme of books. I found an old paperback book in my personal library and ripped out pages. Then I cut the pages into about 2" wide strips and made a couple of paper chains. We hung the long one across the living room window and a shorter one across the fireplace mantle.
I made a banner from book pages that said, "Happily Ever After." I printed out a large font, cut out the letters, traced them onto a book page, cut out the letter from the page, cut squares for the backing, glued the letters to the squares, punched 2 holes in each square, and threaded it all onto a ribbon.
I couldn't get a good shot of the whole banner, so here it is in pieces.
We had a couple of tables out on the deck, so to dress up the tables a little, I made simple centerpieces from objects around the house. I took the dust jackets off of hard cover books and stacked items on top of them. All I was looking for were books with a good color...I didn't want all of them to be black or gray. Snoozeville!
 |
| Simple Spring arrangement on top of a couple of books. |
 |
| Tea light candles inside Ball jars. Dried split peas were my filler. All stuff I had around the house! |
 |
| In the kitchen, we placed a small Spring arrangement on top of a couple of books. |
The final decoration to pull our book theme together was a dessert stand I made.
 |
| Do you think there may have been a little bit of butter in those cookies? |
It cost me a whopping $2.60 to make the dessert stand, thanks to Goodwill. I bought three books for 20 cents a piece and two glass taper holders for a dollar each. When looking for books, I looked for books that were a nice color under the dust jacket, and I bought a large for the base, a medium for the middle, and a smaller one for the top. Then I used Gorilla Glue to glue the candle holders in between the books. Otherwise the stand would have been far too tippy.
We put the dessert stand on the food table as the main centerpiece. I found the letters and ampersand on the top at a boutique. They are made from books! Someone just took old hard cover books and used a saw to cut the books into letters. Genius! This was my gift to Heather for her to keep for her new home.
I toyed with the idea of having the food be book themed, but I decided I had enough of the theme tied in so we just made food we thought would be good. Hot ham and cheese sandwiches, veggie platter with dip, a cheese ball and crackers, a seafood pasta salad, fruit salsa with cinnamon pita chips, brownies, fruit puffs, small cookies, and little fruit tarts. A big thank you to my aunt, my cousin, my sisters, and my mom for making the food and punch!
We played only one game, and of course it was book themed. I came up with a list of 20 pairs from literature and the game was to match them up. Some pairs were romantic, some were friends. Some examples were: Jay Gatsby & Daisy Buchanan, Scout Finch & Dill Harris, Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Malark, Huck Finn & Tom Sawyer, etc.
Congratulations to Heather!
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Little Fish
 |
| Where have you been, Little Fish? |
Some times there are big gaps of time between hiding Little Fish. I kind of forget about him. In fact one time I thought, "What was it again that we were hiding from one another?" I couldn't even remember that he was a little red fish. Then he suddenly popped up in an unexpected place.
I have a shelf full of Starbucks mugs from around the world that my husband has been collecting for me on his work trips. This morning I grabbed a coffee mug halfway back on the shelf, and there he was. Under San Francisco. Nice to see you, Little Fish. Where will you hide next? We are having to get more and more creative in our hiding spots. Who knows how long this game will last!
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
My daughter's birth story
I have been wanting to write down the story of my daughter's birth for a long time now. I should have done it when it was fresh in my mind. But with a newborn, sitting down and blogging was waaaaay low on the priority list. And then life happened. And then I would think about it, but not set any time aside to actually construct the story. But now seems like a good time to tackle this project in my mind's "to do" list. Especially because our little peanut is almost a year old.
One year ago today I went to the doctor for a routine "toward the end of pregnancy" checkup. I was five days away from my due date. My husband came with me and we heard the heart beat. The doctor chatted with us for a few minutes and then said, "Do you feel ready to have this baby? Would you like to be induced tomorrow?" Earlier in my pregnancy I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. I was able to keep my blood sugar numbers under control by diet alone, as my numbers were on the low end of diabetes and I was border-line diagnosed. But the doctor wanted to make sure that the baby wouldn't get too big. Because of my diagnosis, I think we had a total of 4 ultra-sounds, the last one being just a couple of weeks before the due date. So, the doctor was confident that the baby was healthy and fully developed. He said the baby had a strong heart beat and if I wanted to deliver, I could deliver tomorrow. Being the planner that I am, having bags packed, and not a big fan of uncertainty, I was all for it. I was physically and mentally ready to have my baby. I was beginning to dilate. The baby was in the head-down position. So, we set it up to come in at 7:30 the next morning to be induced. My husband and I actually walked down to admitting after the appointment and did all the paperwork needed so that the next morning, all we had to do was walk in and be admitted. My doctor told me that I could change my mind at any time, in case I had second thoughts overnight. He said, "We can call it off at any time, up until I break your water. Once I break your water, there's no going back."
That night we called our family members and told them the plan. We texted a few close friends to let them know the plan, but we didn't "go public" on social media. We laid in bed and talked about how it would be our last night in our house as "just the two of us." We prayed together. Then we tried to get some sleep.
The next morning, January 8, we were up before the alarm went off. Today was the day. Today was the day we were going to bring a life into the world. We called the phone number admitting had given us to make sure there wasn't a rush of pregnant women delivering during the night. "Do you have room for us?" "Yes, we have room. Come on in." (Quite the opposite of what Mary and Joseph experienced with the birth of Jesus!) I told my husband to wear the same t-shirt he was wearing the day we were engaged. We liked the idea of big life events happening when my husband was wearing a t-shirt that had a boxing kangaroo on the front. :) We knew right where to park, what door to go in, and who we needed to see. We got to the hospital around 7:30am and I think I was in my delivery room by 8:00am. Around 9:00am my doctor came in to break my water. He double checked that I was still confident for "all systems go" and I was. No going back now. Gush. Water broken. And the waiting began. We spent most of the morning and early afternoon walking the hallways of the hospital and I bounced on an exercise ball in an effort to get the labor process moving forward.
At some point during the day, I was given pitocin via an IV to get things moving. The nurses had a really hard time getting into a vein in my arm. After trying both arms a couple of times, by a couple of different nurses, the IV was inserted on the side of my wrist, directly below my thumb. That also took a couple of tries and I still have tiny scars on my wrist. My battle wounds. :) No one would ever even notice them but me. I see them.
Around 2:00pm the contractions were getting fairly intense. I went into my labor fully knowing ahead of time that I would get an epidural if at all possible. I am not the kind of woman that wanted an all-natural child birth. Absolutely nothing against any woman who do, more power to you. I went in knowing I would take the pain meds. I would have a c-section if necessary. Some women are determined to give birth with no meds and some are so disappointed when they have to have a c-section, as though their body failed them because they couldn't give birth "naturally." I had told my husband ahead of time, "There's no trophy given to you by the hospital if you give birth with no epidural. I'm totally pro-epidural." And so, around 2:00pm, five hours after my water was broken, I was ready for the drugs. Thankfully, the nurses were able to catch the anesthesiologist shortly before he had to go into surgery. However, it still took a while for him to come to my room, get the epidural in my back, and get it working. So, I had some pretty intense pain for about an hour. By 3:00 I was in bed with my meds and I wasn't going anywhere. So now instead of walking around, I was to stay put.
So, we sat. And we waited. My husband sat next to my bed and read a book. I had the TV on for noise, but didn't really watch it. We listened to CDs. We chatted. A few times throughout the day my husband texted our family and a few friends with updates, but once I was given the epidural, there wasn't anything to report. For a long time. A really long time. The first shift of nurses left and a second shift (the night shift) came in. We met new nurses. We chatted with them. My husband told two of them the entire story of how we met and how we were engaged. I had written some Bible verses on some cards to help get me through my delivery, so a couple of times my husband pulled out the cards and read the verses to me. In preparation for my delivery I had gone to the local candy store, purchased some salt water taffy, put it in little cute jars and attached a note that said, "Thank you for helping us welcome our sweet baby into the world." I brought in 10 jars to give to the doctor and the nurses who helped deliver and then care for my baby. We gave the first jar to the anesthesiologist and he was so pleasantly surprised. We gave them to the first round of nurses I had. And then the second round. They were a hit.
I laid in bed with a monitor hooked to my belly with a belt. I had my pitocin IV in one wrist. I had a heart monitor clipped to my big toe. And I had a blood pressure cuff that squeezed the dickens out of my arm every 30 minutes. At times that blood pressure cuff really hurt, but most of the time it was not that bad of a squeeze. I dozed on and off throughout the day. I was checked a few times for dilation. I had not budged from 4 cm all day. And the hours went by. And eventually it was nighttime. And I was still stuck at 4 cm.
A sad, pathetic cot was brought into the room for my husband to sleep on. The hospital was about to get new furniture and they had tossed some of the couches for sleeping daddies, so there was a shortage on couches. They didn't have a spare to roll in. My poor husband tossed and turned on that cot all night. He slept by a window, in January, in Wisconsin, during the "Polar Vortex" so the air under the cot was cold and kept him awake. I slept horribly. My pitocin was turned off for the night, in hopes that when it was turned on in the morning it would work. I had that darn blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm every 30 minutes, so the longest I could doze was 30 minutes. I think I did get a solid hour once, as I slept right through the squeeze one time.
The next morning my husband got up, took a shower, and ate some breakfast. My pitocin was turned back on. Another shift of nurses came in. Three shifts of nurses and I wasn't even pushing yet! Ugh. And we were running out of candy jars to hand out! It was decided that the baby needed to be monitored more closely. So I was losing the wires on my stomach and they were now going inside, to be attached to the top of the baby's head. A nurse came in to do this about an hour before my doctor was to come in to check on me. As she attempted to get the monitor on the baby, she said, "I don't know what this sack is here. It almost looks like you have another water sack to be broken. I'm going to have the doctor take a look. Oh shoot. I just poked it and it's gushing fluid. It's like you had another water to break." Or something like that is how the conversation went. The monitor was on the baby and an hour later the doctor came. He checked and I was dilated to 6 cm, which he was happy for because he said he was prepared to talk c-section with me if I was still at a 4 cm, almost 24 hours after he had broken my water. Things were finally starting to happen!
At some point mid-morning, I started to get hot. And uncomfortable. I would naturally slide down the bed, and the nurses would have to heave me back up the bed, but I couldn't feel my legs because of the epidural. I was dead weight. So I had to grab onto the bed rails and pull as hard as I could as the nurses moved me up the bed. My arms were getting sore from doing that a few times. I was hot and felt funny. My temperature was taken. Fever confirmed. I was told that happens sometimes when a laboring woman is checked for dilation several times. So, another IV for the fever in my other wrist. Another scar directly below my thumb. Then I got cold. So cold that I was shaking. I could not stop shaking. My teeth would chatter. I would will myself to stop shaking and I could stop for about 5 seconds but then would start shaking again. I had blankets piled on top of me. This continued for several minutes, maybe 15. I finally told my husband, "Get the Bible verses. Read them to me." And he read the following verses to me over and over and I would verbally declare, "Yes," or I would repeat part of the verse. I think he read the following verses over me for a solid 20 minutes or so:
For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power. 2 Timothy 1:7
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Isaiah 40:29
The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Deuteronomy 31:8
The Lord is my light and my salvation - whom shall I fear? Psalm 27:1
He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them. Psalm 145:19
But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded. 2 Chronicles 15:7
The Lord is my rock, my fortress and deliverer; my God is my rock in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. Psalm 18:2
I can do all things through Christ, who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13
I would close my eyes while shaking and speak through my chattering teeth. I would declare these verses true. I would agree. I prayed. I invited God into that hospital room. Finally after reciting these verses for about 20 minutes, my shaking stopped. I could sense the Holy Spirit in that room with us, getting us through this difficult time. (The cards my husband read from are now framed and in the baby's room.) I fell into a bit of a sleepy state and my husband left to go home to change and eat some lunch. We lived only two miles from the hospital, so he hadn't packed a bag. The plan was for him to go home and change after the baby was born, except I was still in labor! No boxing kangaroo shirt the day our baby was born. I fell asleep and when I when I woke up an hour later, I was drenched in sweat. My fever had broken.
My husband came back and I could start to feel pressure around 1:00pm. The epidural was still working, almost 24 hours later, but I could feel pressure and pain very, very, very low. I still couldn't feel my legs and needed help being rolled to my side. My arms hurt from pulling myself up to the head of the bed. I had SEVEN things hooked to me. An IV in my right wrist, an IV in my left wrist, a heart rate monitor on my toe, the monitor inside me, a catheter because I had been in bed since 3:00 pm the previous day, the epidural in my back, and the blood pressure cuff. I just wanted to rip it all out, I was so sick of laying there. I was starting to emotionally come undone. The pain and pressure was mounting. For an hour I moaned and groaned while my husband held my hand. My body would become so tense and I would think about what we learned in birthing class. Pain in labor is good because it means things are happening and you need to relax and let it happen. So as the contractions would come, I would try to release my body's natural need to tense up by breathing out and repeating out loud, "Relax, relax, relax." It became my mantra. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and the next time the nurse came in to check on me I said, "I think I need to start pushing. I feel like I need to push." She checked me, then called the doctor to check me. He was at the other end of the hospital, working in the clinic. So it took a little while for him to become free to come see me. He checked and said, "Ten! I'm going to go change into my pajamas." I actually gave my first push before he got back. I couldn't wait. He came in with his scrubs on, I had a nurse on one side of me, and my husband on the other side.
Before I went into labor, I had read what the final stages of labor were like for some women. It's so different for everyone. I felt like, "Okay, it's go time. I've been lying here for 24 hours, waiting to be able to DO something. And now I can do something." I kept waiting for a surge of adrenaline. But it never came. It was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced - I could not keep my eyes open. All I wanted to do was sleep during the most intense pain of my life. I barely saw my doctor. I pushed during contractions for 75 minutes and my eyes were closed almost the entire time. In between contractions, I closed my eyes. I think I even said, "Is it okay if I just close my eyes for a little bit?" I was exhausted before the first push. I closed my eyes while I pushed with everything in me. I popped blood vessels under my eyes, I pushed so hard. My face was beat red for hours after the delivery. It took a good ten minutes after delivery for my breathing to return to normal. I pushed so hard I really did a number on my tail bone. To this day, it still gets sore. My tail bone was so messed up that when we came home from the hospital I sat in the car and bawled from the pain because I couldn't move. It hurt every day for 4 months. I still usually sit with my foot tucked under me. I couldn't sit up in bed to nurse because of it. If I sit for more than an hour, it still smarts...making for short car trips. Stupid tail bone.
After almost an hour of pushing I asked my doctor, "How many more pushes do you think?" He said, "I don't go by number of pushes, I go by time. I would say another 15 minutes." It was 3:45pm. You can bet I kept my eye on that clock! I kept thinking about the people in the clinic and how I was delaying their appointments by keeping my doctor in the delivery room. I just wanted the baby out and for it all to be over. I asked, "Do I have to wait until I feel the pressure to push? Or can I push without the pressure?" My doctor told me that pushing without a contraction doesn't do much besides make my body more tired by working harder to push. I gave a couple of good pushes and then said, "I don't feel the contraction, but I HAVE to push. The pressure it too much." He said, "Then push!" And with one final push, our baby came sliding out, which was the weirdest thing I have ever felt.
We did not find out the gender of the baby so that we would be surprised in the delivery room. However, I did not get my big declaration. No one said a thing. I tried to sit up a little bit to see, and all I could see was something by the baby's thigh. I said, "It's a boy?" And my husband said, "No...." And then I think someone FINALLY said, "It's a girl." Then she was put on my chest after she got all untangled from her abnormally long umbilical cord! My husband sang "Happy Birthday" to her, said hello to her, and then I said hello, after trying to catch my breath.
So after 31 hours, she was here. It was over. We thought her birthday would be January 8, but it ended up being January 9. We went into the hospital on a Wednesday morning and we didn't get to leave until Sunday. I was discharged on Saturday. Because of the antibiotics in my IV, I had to be a patient for an extra day. The morning after our girl was born, an on-call doctor decided to start her on an IV because she had a fever - most likely picked up from me during labor. So she had to stay an extra day as well to let the antibiotics run through. Her poor little arm...how anyone is skilled enough to insert an IV into a newborn, I'll never know.
I've sometimes thought about my labor experience and wonder if I have the choice again in the future would I ever choose to be induced? I'm not sure. Throughout the whole thing I was never scared or frightened. I knew I could do it. I knew that millions of women had given birth and I knew that a lot of women weaker and more frail than myself had done it. And if they could do it, so could I. That was the mindset with which I went into labor. I do know that in the weeks following there were times I wished I would have had a c-section. I would have recovered much faster than I did with my tailbone and that awful pain for weeks and weeks and weeks. I spent a lot of time standing up because sitting was too painful. I walked out of that hospital with three scars on my wrists and a tailbone that may get sore from time to time for the rest of my life. I also walked out with a beautiful baby girl who was worth it all.
One year ago today I went to the doctor for a routine "toward the end of pregnancy" checkup. I was five days away from my due date. My husband came with me and we heard the heart beat. The doctor chatted with us for a few minutes and then said, "Do you feel ready to have this baby? Would you like to be induced tomorrow?" Earlier in my pregnancy I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. I was able to keep my blood sugar numbers under control by diet alone, as my numbers were on the low end of diabetes and I was border-line diagnosed. But the doctor wanted to make sure that the baby wouldn't get too big. Because of my diagnosis, I think we had a total of 4 ultra-sounds, the last one being just a couple of weeks before the due date. So, the doctor was confident that the baby was healthy and fully developed. He said the baby had a strong heart beat and if I wanted to deliver, I could deliver tomorrow. Being the planner that I am, having bags packed, and not a big fan of uncertainty, I was all for it. I was physically and mentally ready to have my baby. I was beginning to dilate. The baby was in the head-down position. So, we set it up to come in at 7:30 the next morning to be induced. My husband and I actually walked down to admitting after the appointment and did all the paperwork needed so that the next morning, all we had to do was walk in and be admitted. My doctor told me that I could change my mind at any time, in case I had second thoughts overnight. He said, "We can call it off at any time, up until I break your water. Once I break your water, there's no going back."
That night we called our family members and told them the plan. We texted a few close friends to let them know the plan, but we didn't "go public" on social media. We laid in bed and talked about how it would be our last night in our house as "just the two of us." We prayed together. Then we tried to get some sleep.
The next morning, January 8, we were up before the alarm went off. Today was the day. Today was the day we were going to bring a life into the world. We called the phone number admitting had given us to make sure there wasn't a rush of pregnant women delivering during the night. "Do you have room for us?" "Yes, we have room. Come on in." (Quite the opposite of what Mary and Joseph experienced with the birth of Jesus!) I told my husband to wear the same t-shirt he was wearing the day we were engaged. We liked the idea of big life events happening when my husband was wearing a t-shirt that had a boxing kangaroo on the front. :) We knew right where to park, what door to go in, and who we needed to see. We got to the hospital around 7:30am and I think I was in my delivery room by 8:00am. Around 9:00am my doctor came in to break my water. He double checked that I was still confident for "all systems go" and I was. No going back now. Gush. Water broken. And the waiting began. We spent most of the morning and early afternoon walking the hallways of the hospital and I bounced on an exercise ball in an effort to get the labor process moving forward.
At some point during the day, I was given pitocin via an IV to get things moving. The nurses had a really hard time getting into a vein in my arm. After trying both arms a couple of times, by a couple of different nurses, the IV was inserted on the side of my wrist, directly below my thumb. That also took a couple of tries and I still have tiny scars on my wrist. My battle wounds. :) No one would ever even notice them but me. I see them.
Around 2:00pm the contractions were getting fairly intense. I went into my labor fully knowing ahead of time that I would get an epidural if at all possible. I am not the kind of woman that wanted an all-natural child birth. Absolutely nothing against any woman who do, more power to you. I went in knowing I would take the pain meds. I would have a c-section if necessary. Some women are determined to give birth with no meds and some are so disappointed when they have to have a c-section, as though their body failed them because they couldn't give birth "naturally." I had told my husband ahead of time, "There's no trophy given to you by the hospital if you give birth with no epidural. I'm totally pro-epidural." And so, around 2:00pm, five hours after my water was broken, I was ready for the drugs. Thankfully, the nurses were able to catch the anesthesiologist shortly before he had to go into surgery. However, it still took a while for him to come to my room, get the epidural in my back, and get it working. So, I had some pretty intense pain for about an hour. By 3:00 I was in bed with my meds and I wasn't going anywhere. So now instead of walking around, I was to stay put.
So, we sat. And we waited. My husband sat next to my bed and read a book. I had the TV on for noise, but didn't really watch it. We listened to CDs. We chatted. A few times throughout the day my husband texted our family and a few friends with updates, but once I was given the epidural, there wasn't anything to report. For a long time. A really long time. The first shift of nurses left and a second shift (the night shift) came in. We met new nurses. We chatted with them. My husband told two of them the entire story of how we met and how we were engaged. I had written some Bible verses on some cards to help get me through my delivery, so a couple of times my husband pulled out the cards and read the verses to me. In preparation for my delivery I had gone to the local candy store, purchased some salt water taffy, put it in little cute jars and attached a note that said, "Thank you for helping us welcome our sweet baby into the world." I brought in 10 jars to give to the doctor and the nurses who helped deliver and then care for my baby. We gave the first jar to the anesthesiologist and he was so pleasantly surprised. We gave them to the first round of nurses I had. And then the second round. They were a hit.
I laid in bed with a monitor hooked to my belly with a belt. I had my pitocin IV in one wrist. I had a heart monitor clipped to my big toe. And I had a blood pressure cuff that squeezed the dickens out of my arm every 30 minutes. At times that blood pressure cuff really hurt, but most of the time it was not that bad of a squeeze. I dozed on and off throughout the day. I was checked a few times for dilation. I had not budged from 4 cm all day. And the hours went by. And eventually it was nighttime. And I was still stuck at 4 cm.
A sad, pathetic cot was brought into the room for my husband to sleep on. The hospital was about to get new furniture and they had tossed some of the couches for sleeping daddies, so there was a shortage on couches. They didn't have a spare to roll in. My poor husband tossed and turned on that cot all night. He slept by a window, in January, in Wisconsin, during the "Polar Vortex" so the air under the cot was cold and kept him awake. I slept horribly. My pitocin was turned off for the night, in hopes that when it was turned on in the morning it would work. I had that darn blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm every 30 minutes, so the longest I could doze was 30 minutes. I think I did get a solid hour once, as I slept right through the squeeze one time.
The next morning my husband got up, took a shower, and ate some breakfast. My pitocin was turned back on. Another shift of nurses came in. Three shifts of nurses and I wasn't even pushing yet! Ugh. And we were running out of candy jars to hand out! It was decided that the baby needed to be monitored more closely. So I was losing the wires on my stomach and they were now going inside, to be attached to the top of the baby's head. A nurse came in to do this about an hour before my doctor was to come in to check on me. As she attempted to get the monitor on the baby, she said, "I don't know what this sack is here. It almost looks like you have another water sack to be broken. I'm going to have the doctor take a look. Oh shoot. I just poked it and it's gushing fluid. It's like you had another water to break." Or something like that is how the conversation went. The monitor was on the baby and an hour later the doctor came. He checked and I was dilated to 6 cm, which he was happy for because he said he was prepared to talk c-section with me if I was still at a 4 cm, almost 24 hours after he had broken my water. Things were finally starting to happen!
At some point mid-morning, I started to get hot. And uncomfortable. I would naturally slide down the bed, and the nurses would have to heave me back up the bed, but I couldn't feel my legs because of the epidural. I was dead weight. So I had to grab onto the bed rails and pull as hard as I could as the nurses moved me up the bed. My arms were getting sore from doing that a few times. I was hot and felt funny. My temperature was taken. Fever confirmed. I was told that happens sometimes when a laboring woman is checked for dilation several times. So, another IV for the fever in my other wrist. Another scar directly below my thumb. Then I got cold. So cold that I was shaking. I could not stop shaking. My teeth would chatter. I would will myself to stop shaking and I could stop for about 5 seconds but then would start shaking again. I had blankets piled on top of me. This continued for several minutes, maybe 15. I finally told my husband, "Get the Bible verses. Read them to me." And he read the following verses to me over and over and I would verbally declare, "Yes," or I would repeat part of the verse. I think he read the following verses over me for a solid 20 minutes or so:
For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power. 2 Timothy 1:7
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Isaiah 40:29
The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Deuteronomy 31:8
The Lord is my light and my salvation - whom shall I fear? Psalm 27:1
He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them. Psalm 145:19
But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded. 2 Chronicles 15:7
The Lord is my rock, my fortress and deliverer; my God is my rock in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. Psalm 18:2
I can do all things through Christ, who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13
I would close my eyes while shaking and speak through my chattering teeth. I would declare these verses true. I would agree. I prayed. I invited God into that hospital room. Finally after reciting these verses for about 20 minutes, my shaking stopped. I could sense the Holy Spirit in that room with us, getting us through this difficult time. (The cards my husband read from are now framed and in the baby's room.) I fell into a bit of a sleepy state and my husband left to go home to change and eat some lunch. We lived only two miles from the hospital, so he hadn't packed a bag. The plan was for him to go home and change after the baby was born, except I was still in labor! No boxing kangaroo shirt the day our baby was born. I fell asleep and when I when I woke up an hour later, I was drenched in sweat. My fever had broken.
My husband came back and I could start to feel pressure around 1:00pm. The epidural was still working, almost 24 hours later, but I could feel pressure and pain very, very, very low. I still couldn't feel my legs and needed help being rolled to my side. My arms hurt from pulling myself up to the head of the bed. I had SEVEN things hooked to me. An IV in my right wrist, an IV in my left wrist, a heart rate monitor on my toe, the monitor inside me, a catheter because I had been in bed since 3:00 pm the previous day, the epidural in my back, and the blood pressure cuff. I just wanted to rip it all out, I was so sick of laying there. I was starting to emotionally come undone. The pain and pressure was mounting. For an hour I moaned and groaned while my husband held my hand. My body would become so tense and I would think about what we learned in birthing class. Pain in labor is good because it means things are happening and you need to relax and let it happen. So as the contractions would come, I would try to release my body's natural need to tense up by breathing out and repeating out loud, "Relax, relax, relax." It became my mantra. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and the next time the nurse came in to check on me I said, "I think I need to start pushing. I feel like I need to push." She checked me, then called the doctor to check me. He was at the other end of the hospital, working in the clinic. So it took a little while for him to become free to come see me. He checked and said, "Ten! I'm going to go change into my pajamas." I actually gave my first push before he got back. I couldn't wait. He came in with his scrubs on, I had a nurse on one side of me, and my husband on the other side.
Before I went into labor, I had read what the final stages of labor were like for some women. It's so different for everyone. I felt like, "Okay, it's go time. I've been lying here for 24 hours, waiting to be able to DO something. And now I can do something." I kept waiting for a surge of adrenaline. But it never came. It was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced - I could not keep my eyes open. All I wanted to do was sleep during the most intense pain of my life. I barely saw my doctor. I pushed during contractions for 75 minutes and my eyes were closed almost the entire time. In between contractions, I closed my eyes. I think I even said, "Is it okay if I just close my eyes for a little bit?" I was exhausted before the first push. I closed my eyes while I pushed with everything in me. I popped blood vessels under my eyes, I pushed so hard. My face was beat red for hours after the delivery. It took a good ten minutes after delivery for my breathing to return to normal. I pushed so hard I really did a number on my tail bone. To this day, it still gets sore. My tail bone was so messed up that when we came home from the hospital I sat in the car and bawled from the pain because I couldn't move. It hurt every day for 4 months. I still usually sit with my foot tucked under me. I couldn't sit up in bed to nurse because of it. If I sit for more than an hour, it still smarts...making for short car trips. Stupid tail bone.
After almost an hour of pushing I asked my doctor, "How many more pushes do you think?" He said, "I don't go by number of pushes, I go by time. I would say another 15 minutes." It was 3:45pm. You can bet I kept my eye on that clock! I kept thinking about the people in the clinic and how I was delaying their appointments by keeping my doctor in the delivery room. I just wanted the baby out and for it all to be over. I asked, "Do I have to wait until I feel the pressure to push? Or can I push without the pressure?" My doctor told me that pushing without a contraction doesn't do much besides make my body more tired by working harder to push. I gave a couple of good pushes and then said, "I don't feel the contraction, but I HAVE to push. The pressure it too much." He said, "Then push!" And with one final push, our baby came sliding out, which was the weirdest thing I have ever felt.
We did not find out the gender of the baby so that we would be surprised in the delivery room. However, I did not get my big declaration. No one said a thing. I tried to sit up a little bit to see, and all I could see was something by the baby's thigh. I said, "It's a boy?" And my husband said, "No...." And then I think someone FINALLY said, "It's a girl." Then she was put on my chest after she got all untangled from her abnormally long umbilical cord! My husband sang "Happy Birthday" to her, said hello to her, and then I said hello, after trying to catch my breath.
So after 31 hours, she was here. It was over. We thought her birthday would be January 8, but it ended up being January 9. We went into the hospital on a Wednesday morning and we didn't get to leave until Sunday. I was discharged on Saturday. Because of the antibiotics in my IV, I had to be a patient for an extra day. The morning after our girl was born, an on-call doctor decided to start her on an IV because she had a fever - most likely picked up from me during labor. So she had to stay an extra day as well to let the antibiotics run through. Her poor little arm...how anyone is skilled enough to insert an IV into a newborn, I'll never know.
I've sometimes thought about my labor experience and wonder if I have the choice again in the future would I ever choose to be induced? I'm not sure. Throughout the whole thing I was never scared or frightened. I knew I could do it. I knew that millions of women had given birth and I knew that a lot of women weaker and more frail than myself had done it. And if they could do it, so could I. That was the mindset with which I went into labor. I do know that in the weeks following there were times I wished I would have had a c-section. I would have recovered much faster than I did with my tailbone and that awful pain for weeks and weeks and weeks. I spent a lot of time standing up because sitting was too painful. I walked out of that hospital with three scars on my wrists and a tailbone that may get sore from time to time for the rest of my life. I also walked out with a beautiful baby girl who was worth it all.
 |
| Hello, world. Nice to meet you. |
Friday, December 12, 2014
My daughter, the puppy
Ways that my baby girl is a lot like a puppy:
1. When you shake a can of her snacks, she comes running (or crawling, technically) over because she knows what that sound means.
2. She often comes over and pulls herself up on the kitchen chair someone is sitting on when they are eating, to beg for bites of food.
3. If she gets her hands on a shoe, she will certainly start to chew on it. Ew. Amping up the immune system, I guess. The other day she got a hold of my slipper in my bedroom closet and it immediately went to her mouth.
4. She gets the biggest kick out of mundane things...wrapping paper, crawling on the couch cushion when we put it on the floor, when someone lays down on the floor so she can crawl all over them. We can practically see her tail wagging with excitement.
5. She needs to go to obedience school, as she has not grasped the concept that "no" means "stop doing what you are doing."
6. She isn't potty trained.
7. She eats food off the floor.
8. She loves when you roll a ball around on the floor. She thinks that is hilarious and entertaining.
9. She loves strangers. I think she would sniff them and lick their face if she were able.
10. She sucks on a washcloth. That's not puppy-like, but when she's sucking on a wash cloth at Papa's house, Papa takes the other side of the washcloth in his mouth and they have a sort of tug-of-war with it in their mouths.
1. When you shake a can of her snacks, she comes running (or crawling, technically) over because she knows what that sound means.
2. She often comes over and pulls herself up on the kitchen chair someone is sitting on when they are eating, to beg for bites of food.
3. If she gets her hands on a shoe, she will certainly start to chew on it. Ew. Amping up the immune system, I guess. The other day she got a hold of my slipper in my bedroom closet and it immediately went to her mouth.
4. She gets the biggest kick out of mundane things...wrapping paper, crawling on the couch cushion when we put it on the floor, when someone lays down on the floor so she can crawl all over them. We can practically see her tail wagging with excitement.
5. She needs to go to obedience school, as she has not grasped the concept that "no" means "stop doing what you are doing."
6. She isn't potty trained.
7. She eats food off the floor.
8. She loves when you roll a ball around on the floor. She thinks that is hilarious and entertaining.
9. She loves strangers. I think she would sniff them and lick their face if she were able.
10. She sucks on a washcloth. That's not puppy-like, but when she's sucking on a wash cloth at Papa's house, Papa takes the other side of the washcloth in his mouth and they have a sort of tug-of-war with it in their mouths.
 |
| Photo credit: Charlie & Violet Photography |
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Thankfulness - a list
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. And as I prepare to have many relatives from my mom's side of the family over for our Thanksgiving celebration tomorrow, I've been thinking all day about all of the things I'm so thankful for.
I have been abundantly blessed by God. An embarrassing amount. Much more than I ever deserve. But that's the great thing about God - He doesn't actually give us what we "deserve." His grace and mercy overflow for His kids. And I am so thankful for so many things he has given to me. In no particular order, I am thankful for:
1. My sisters. This morning I was looking at the three photos I have framed on my bedroom wall. Each 8x10 is a photo of my two sisters and me, at each of our weddings. Each of us had two maids/matrons of honor...our other two sisters. We each took a turn signing the marriage certificates as witnesses. I signed Laurie's, Michelle signed mine, Laurie signed Michelle's. The three of us are close, with no drama ever involved in our relationships with one another. At least, not since 2002 when Laurie and I stopped living together. :) I am so thankful for their support, the laughs, the inside jokes, the venting to one another, the countless texts, and so much more. If I go more than a couple of days without talking to either of them, I start to miss them. One sister lives four miles away, the other lives over 50 miles away. But distance is nothing between us. I'm thankful for these bonds.
2. My house. I love my house. I think it's beautiful. When I turn up the thermostat, I get heat. When it rains, everything in my house stays dry. I get instant electricity when I need light, or to dry my hair, or to charge a cell phone. When I need water, I just turn on the faucet and I get water immediately. It's a cinch to cook a meal, take a shower, wash and dry our many clothes. This puts me is in a small percentage of people in the world. So many people in the world have NONE of these things. I do not take any of it for granted and am so thankful for it all.
3. My child. I waited a long time to be a mom. And I am loving it. I love taking care of my girl. She is so sweet. And social. And developing quite the sense of humor. She is bright and curious. I am enjoying each stage as she develops and treasuring each milestone. I don't want to take anything for granted and "wish" for the next stage. I'll never rush her growing up, I'll delight in her growth, and I'll treasure her achievements. I am so thankful to be her mother.
4. My husband. We have so much fun together. We laugh a lot. We make a good team. He is so supportive of me, he encourages me, he prays with me, he loves me just the way I need to be loved. He knows how to speak my love language. He is the second best thing that's ever happened to me. Choosing to follow Christ is the best thing that's ever happened to me. He knows that he will always be number two in my book and he's just fine with that. :) I am incredibly thankful for him!
5. My church. I love Faith Community Church. I started attending there about seven years ago. I've served in a couple of different ministries. Husby and I did our pre-marital counseling through the church. We were married there. We dedicated our little Tuppy as part of this church. And now I work there part-time as I help behind the scenes of our Wednesday night children's ministry. I have come to know so many quality people that attend Faith, work at Faith, and volunteer at Faith. The staff of pastors and fellow attenders encourage me, build me up, and teach me how to have a deeper walk with Christ. This is a church that loves people through Christ! And I am thankful for this church!
6. The rest of my family. My parents, in-laws, nieces, nephews - we all get along and enjoy spending a lot of time together. Not all families are like this and I'm so thankful for all of the time that we have had together, growing closer, laughing, eating (lots of eating), just being invested in one another's lives. I am so thankful for functional family love.
7. Pie. I'm thankful for pie.
I have been abundantly blessed by God. An embarrassing amount. Much more than I ever deserve. But that's the great thing about God - He doesn't actually give us what we "deserve." His grace and mercy overflow for His kids. And I am so thankful for so many things he has given to me. In no particular order, I am thankful for:
1. My sisters. This morning I was looking at the three photos I have framed on my bedroom wall. Each 8x10 is a photo of my two sisters and me, at each of our weddings. Each of us had two maids/matrons of honor...our other two sisters. We each took a turn signing the marriage certificates as witnesses. I signed Laurie's, Michelle signed mine, Laurie signed Michelle's. The three of us are close, with no drama ever involved in our relationships with one another. At least, not since 2002 when Laurie and I stopped living together. :) I am so thankful for their support, the laughs, the inside jokes, the venting to one another, the countless texts, and so much more. If I go more than a couple of days without talking to either of them, I start to miss them. One sister lives four miles away, the other lives over 50 miles away. But distance is nothing between us. I'm thankful for these bonds.
 |
| Love my sisters - one of my favorite pictures of us |
3. My child. I waited a long time to be a mom. And I am loving it. I love taking care of my girl. She is so sweet. And social. And developing quite the sense of humor. She is bright and curious. I am enjoying each stage as she develops and treasuring each milestone. I don't want to take anything for granted and "wish" for the next stage. I'll never rush her growing up, I'll delight in her growth, and I'll treasure her achievements. I am so thankful to be her mother.
 |
| My little Tuppy. Ten months old. |
 |
| A couple of months before we were married! |
6. The rest of my family. My parents, in-laws, nieces, nephews - we all get along and enjoy spending a lot of time together. Not all families are like this and I'm so thankful for all of the time that we have had together, growing closer, laughing, eating (lots of eating), just being invested in one another's lives. I am so thankful for functional family love.
7. Pie. I'm thankful for pie.
 |
| Happy Thanksgiving! |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)