all creatures great and small...

"The Lord, in His wisdom,

gave us three things to make life bearable;

humor, hope and dogs.

But the greatest was dogs."

-Robyn Davidson 

we almost lost our sweet lucy in the fall of 2021.  as i reread this post i realized that this miracle was too good to NOT share so i'm posting it years later.  

it happened as most emergencies do... at the worst possible time for an emergency to happen and as an accident.  but we also found that God works miracles, not just for us, but those furry companions He's gifted us with.  

one monday night in september of 2021 we had rolled into the 7:00 PM witching hour... in our household it means we've embarked on the final push with our kids for the night.  they are usually on each others last nerve or done listening to us.  our patience is on its last leg.  we work really hard to get through from 7:00-7:45... reminding henley a million times to put her pajamas on and brush her teeth, keeping ophelia moving along and from distracting henley, and keeping leif from making the girls mad so that it all doesn't come crumbling apart.  all of this while doing dinner dishes, cleaning the kitchen up and packing lunches for the next day.  i always feel the deep partnership with kjaer during this hour.  we are tired, we are weary... and yet he links arms with me and we encourage each other on to show up and remain calm for the last chaotic hour of the night.   

so it was during this nightly routine we were standing in the kitchen working, calling to the girls to get out of the bathtub and chatting with leif that we saw lucy run by the window with something weird sticking out of her mouth.  i figured she must've caught a squirrel or had a toy... i'm thankful kjaer was more attentive.  i heard him say, "what is in lucy's mouth?" and he went outside.

i knew something was dreadfully wrong when leif's face went pale and he said, "i was trying to catch a raccoon but i think i just caught a lucy."

have you met my little leif?  he is a budding outdoorsman.  he loves fishing and setting traps for crayfish.  a couple of afternoons a week that fall we would walk by the fields at school (henley would rollerskate and i would walk some laps to get some steps in) so that leif could dive through the tall grass and catch garter snakes.  he is always concocting clever traps to catch animals.  usually i know he's in a trap-making mood when i find my recycling bin tipped over and him sifting through containers and bottles to find the exact thing he needs.  

... or just the can tipped over, recycling scattered about and no sign of children anywhere.

the problem with this amazing, unbridled curiosity and passion is he doesn't often think of repercussions.  for example, this particular day he had snuck into his tackle box (which we've already talked to him many times about) and had found a small barbed fish hook.  he then shoved it into the center of a chomps beef stick he had leftover from his hike the day before.  this was attached to fishing line with a red bobber on the end and meticulously buried in sand so that only the beef stick was showing.  leif was thinking of his fish hook like he knows it works with fishing.  it snags the fish in the cheek... he catches it... unhooks it... and sets it free.  he wasn't thinking about how a mammal's body is designed differently than a fish, or what would happen if he actually caught a mean old rotten raccoon or the ramifications if our sweet dog swallowed the hook.  

kjaer came walking in with fishing line and a red bobber... i was still registering what was happening but kjaer knew.  he has spent countless times unhooking fishing hooks from tree limbs and putting tackle boxes in timeout because they were meant for only fishing trips.  

he knew what had happened before i did.  

initially there was that anger that parents have... the "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE TALKED ABOUT THIS?!?" anger.  it stems from fear... right?  like this time, someone might actually be hurt because of being disobedient.  it's not just about another broken fishing pole or snapped line.  lucy's life was at risk.  

we started looking for the hook outside... telling leif we needed to know every single detail.  that his honesty was important.  leif felt terrible... he knew this was due to his choices and you could tell he wished so badly he could take them back.  we slowly trudged through the backyard with flashlights in hand... and we couldn't find any trace of the bait... which meant we couldn't locate the hook.  

meanwhile, lucy, in her ever persistent drive to catch a beam of light, chased our flashlight rays as we scoured the backyard for that hook.  

that freaking, barbed hook.

she was acting totally normal.  i wanted to believe she had miraculously missed it.  but deep down i knew better... leif is REALLY good at baiting hooks.  

we finished putting the kids to bed while lucy did her normal lucy things... laying by our feet during our chapter book, hopping up on henleys bed while we said goodnight to the girls, trotting down to leif's room and sprawling herself across his floor while we said goodnight to him. 

usually when i walk out of leif's room, i always rub her belly... even though she's going to immediately follow me upstairs to continue her nighttime routine next to my feet.  this night was no different.  i stopped down to give her one of her many nightly belly rubs and heard leif say sheepishly, "i hope lucy doesn't die because of me."

all i could respond with was, "me too, buddy.  me too."  

we had prayed together in leif's room... that lucy would be ok.  but i felt an impending dread.  our night was just getting started.

kjaer and i did a second flashlight round in the backyard, lucy quick at our heals to catch the beams of light.  not a single trace.  

we sat on the couch as lucy plopped herself in her second to last spot before her bedtime.  she sprawled out across our area rug in front of our large glass doors and snoozed while we conversed over tea.  only this time it wasn't about the school day or our normal night time banter.  this time it was about what the right thing to do was.  

i texted my sister in law... a vet.  i was trying to play it cool... but she knew right away this wasn't some hum drum thing.  she called me immediately and gave me the wisest counsel i could have ever asked for.  

it's a terrible thing to say money was one of the first things that popped into my mind.  like... this is going to be an emergency visit to an emergency vet.  those vets are not cheap.  maybe we can try the ol' wait and see approach.  she snapped me out of that place when she said the best thing to do was get an xray... that it would cost around $400 but then we would know either way.  we'd either walk away knowing for sure she hadn't swallowed the hook (and not having to worry all week) or we'd learn how bad the damage was.  the good thing was, she reminded me, that fishhooks are metal... so it would definitely show up on an xray.

then we had a stare down.  kjaer and i.  who was going?   because, you know, it's never convenient on a work night to go to the emergency room.  

kjaer went... bless his sweet soul.  he takes such good care of us and i think he knew i was about to lose my ever loving mind.  during that time i was in such a fragile place anyway.  i was tackling working full time for the first time in eight years and a newly diagnosed autoimmune disease left me exhausted and he knew it.  i love that man.  

i also reminded him that i'm the spender in the relationship so i would probably spend our life savings to save our pooch.  he'd be more diplomatic and not put us in the poor house.  

he came home within a half an hour.  they had a two hour wait just to get an xray so he had to leave her there and was able to come home.  he stayed up and waited for the phone call while i slept.  we had already decided he shouldn't work the next morning... so he busied himself writing sub plans.  around midnight we got the call.  the fishhook was lodged deep down in her esophagus.  they'd have to do an endoscopy.  kjaer gave them the go ahead and crawled into bed with me, whispering that she was going under anesthesia and hopefully they'd scope it out.  there was also some sleepy conversation about what it was going to cost us... and it was NOT cheap.  but it was still under our threshhold.  

around 3 AM the phone rang.  

the doctor doing the endoscopy called to say she had been trying for 3 hours and it hadn't budged.  she began asking us if we would consider surgery...  an endeavor that would cost over $10,000.  i sat on the other side of the the conversation, trying to pick up scraps from kjaer's steady voice.  my heart fell when he repeated that number back... "$10,000?"  i knew... we were going to have to put her down because that number on top of what we were already paying was astronomical.  had i been working full time for the past 8 years maybe we wouldn't have blinked... but i had just started the month prior, and we had just started to have some considerable breathing room financially.  but not enough to make that an easy check to write.   he hung up the phone and told me that the dr. was going to try for a couple more hours, but that we needed to start thinking of other options... like surgery or putting her down.  i began to weep over our dog.  

there comes a moment where you face how much you love something.  no one is immune to this... at some point you will be forced to reckon with losing someone you love and you will find that your love runs for them deeper than you anticipated.  

lucy had quietly wriggled her way into my heart.  sadly, it took me a little longer to connect to lucy than the rest of the family members because she was the dog we got to replace trooper... my original amazing fur baby.  but i sat there grieved.  i realized that she has become my companion and friend... that she dances happily when she sees me, gets up early in the morning during my quiet time for her neck scratches, lays precisely under or next to wherever i'm seated so that the tops of my feet rest on her strong and sturdy back.  she guards our house, loves our kids, heckles our chickens and has never done anything to warrant an early death over something so ridiculous.  

and then the realization came crashing down on me.  if this dr. couldn't get the hook out, we would have to put her down... and leif would forever carry the weight of lucy dying because of his poor choice.  this thought was to great to bear.  i sat in the dark and clasped hands with kjaer and we prayed outloud while i wept.  i can't remember what exactly we said... but the gist was "we know you love animals too because you made them.  please let her miraculously cough this hook like the big fish coughed up jonah.  she doesn't deserve this, Lord.  we need a miracle.  please don't let leif have to carry this burden for the rest of his life."  we pleaded.  i knew the odds were against lucy and us.... but i know too that God has shown up for me in the darkest pits of my life.  so if He could meet me there... He could meet us here too.  even if she was just a dog.  

i couldn't go back to sleep now.  my heart was full of worry.  this is how a mama gets when one of her tribe goes down.  the worry is greater than the need to sleep.  i immediately called in for work and began emailing my teachers i support.  my world was stopping for the day as we held our breath.  

by 6 am kjaer got the call that the doctor had still been unsuccessful.  they were going to wake lucy up and have another dr. try again later in the day.  she promised that they wouldn't charge us for two endoscopies but asked us again to consider the surgery.  

it felt a little like living in a nightmare.

i busied myself until it was time to wake the kids up.  i broke the news to them.  lucy wasn't here because we had decided to take her to the hospital to see if she had swallowed the hook.  leif maintained his composure but his questions told me he was full of guilt and shame.  he knew it was on him and it broke my ever loving heart every time he said it.  i didn't want it to be because of him.  i wanted desperately to rescue him from the pain, to make it not hurt, to erase the shame and the guilt.  henley's eyes welled with tears as she sobbed i don't want another dog mom.  apparently she takes after her mama and jumps to the worst case scenario.  we told them the best thing to do that day was go to school... that if something terrible was going to happen we would come and get them.  and we reminded them to pray and give their fear to God... He loves Lucy too.  He handcrafted that beautiful, brindle coat, her cold black nose and her crookity ear everyone adores. 

kjaer and i drove the kids to school and dodi (bless her) took ophelia to pre-k.   we came back home and settled in for the phone call from the next doctor.  we drank coffee, made banana pancakes and bacon and sat on our patio.  we kept praying and noticing how much we missed our lucy-lou rolling around in the grass and basking in the sun.  i kept thinking about how i just couldn't picture life without her... everything felt so bleak.   my heart didn't know how it could suffer the loss of her and the grief of our children.

around 9 AM the second dr. called.  again... i pieced things together while kjaer talked with her.  she had previously practiced in galveston, tx...  where she had removed tons of fish hooks.  in fact, she had never NOT gotten a fish hook out of a dog.  

(MIRACULOUS!!!)

my heart started jumping.  it couldn't be!

she warned kjaer, this fish hook was different and more difficult than ones she had seen before.  so she didn't want to get our hopes up.  she asked again about surgery.  kjaer told her we wouldn't be doing the surgery.  she asked, "because of the money?"  he answered back yes... and also that we were worried if the recovery would be brutal.  i connected it to my dad's almost-surgery back while he was fighting for his life from cancer.  doctors had often talked about doing an esophageal surgery with him, boasting promises of extended life/normal life.  my mother, being a nurse with over 40 years of experience (at the time... she just retired 52 years to the day of her first day!), said this was often not the case.  the quality of life would have been terrible if he had done it and most patients suffered for the rest of their lives.  i equated lucy's surgery to this... would we be doing something that would possibly just make her life worse to be selfish and keep her with us?  the doctor assured us that, no, she would have a 2 week recovery but they anticipated a full return to normal life.  but we knew it would still be foolish to spend $10000 on a surgery.  

she replied back, "we have a private donation that we think you qualify for that would cover all of the costs of surgery."

(SAY WHAT?!?)

she said they had a private donor who had given a lump sum of money under the strict guidelines that it must be for a family who couldn't spend the money on the surgery, with a healthy dog who had a good prognosis.

you guys... i know it isn't like lucy spit the hook up... but THAT was pretty miraculous.  God had covered ALL of the bases.  He had sent a doctor who has removed fish hooks regularly... she JUST HAPPENED to be the doctor on duty that day.  and then a private donor who would pay for the surgery if she couldn't. 

i wept again.

when prayers are answered so blatantly, you just can't help yourself.  

she hung up after clarifying with kjaer that she would confirm with the donor we were the right fit and that lucy's 2nd endoscopy would begin at 2:00PM.  

we were both so relieved we could hardly see straight.  we went to bed exhausted but hopeful and slept the day away. 

when we woke up, we went to pick the kids up from their various places.  kjaer went to get leif and henley and i went to get ophelia.  kjaer had called to tell me that they were putting lucy under while we were driving.  the slow motion minutes ticked by as we tried to do our 'normal" routine.  twenty minutes later kjaer called, with cheers and shouts of leif and henley in the background, because the doctor had successfully removed the hook with the endoscopy.

bringing lucy home was epically wonderful and miraculous... and we all knew it.  we buried our faces in her fur, scratched her belly and gave her, what leif calls, too many extra kisses.  she was home... she'd still be here with us.

you guys... i have experienced grace and peace on the deepest pits of my life because of God. time and time again i've cried out in fear, in pain, or just out of sheer exhaustion and He has showed up.  sometimes like a lover's whisper in my ear, like the bible describes in the original Hebrew when elijah was in a cave (I Kings 19:9).  sometimes louder than the roar of the fire i'm standing in (daniel 3:21-27). He is a God full of grace because He is the author of grace Himself. 

as Anne LaMott once said, "God: what a nut!"

so the next time you find yourself desperate and weeping... whether over a family member with cancer, the loss of a job, a marriage that's falling apart, or even a pet who might not make it...  whatever it might be.  "Cast all of your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you." (I Peter 5:7). He may be a nut for giving us His recklessly beautiful grace... but only because He's a nut about you.  He made you, you are His and what you think and feel matters to Him.  

The verse that we have walked by
daily for the last year on our way
out the door.

walmart jesus...

back when i was SUPER pregnant with Henley, i was suddenly struck with a fear.  i was laying in bed reflecting back to my first trimester when i thought for sure i was pregnant with a girl... this was so exciting to me as i really wanted a girl and already had my sweet little boy.  i don't know why i thought i was going to have a girl then... i just felt really feminine and drank a lot of lemonade when i felt nauseous... so i just kind of knew she was a girl.  

but as the second trimester started those feelings of just knowing faded.  i was ok with this as first trimester wasn't THAT far behind me and i could still vividly remember the feeling of just knowing.  so i waddled in confidence that yes, this was going to be a girl.  

but then the third trimester came.  you know... when your maternity clothes no longer fit, you've been pregnant FOREVER and you can't remember the last time you saw your shoes, never mind the feelings you had 6 months ago.  

so i laid in bed, clinging to my giant pregnancy pillow, with this fear washing over me... what if she wasn't a girl and instead of receiving her with joy i felt disappointed?

so i unashamedly asked God for a sign... just to see if i was on the right track.

he had given me several with leif... which i tried to ignore (only dreamed about boys, saw an ultrasound image of his head and "just knew" he was a boy) because i had wanted a girl so bad.  reflecting back, i knew that leif was going to be a boy but i think (poor leif) that i was really hoping for a girl.  

i just didn't want to feel that way again... like my mothering instincts were terribly out of whack or something.

so i asked for a sign... just anything to give me a little insight.  

i think in my pregnant little head i thought He'd give me a dream with a little boy or girl in it.  i don't know... i mean, i was hoping for a sign but it's like i forgot that He's GOD and has managed to get pretty creative when He's had news to share with someone on earth.

(ahem... heavenly hosts singing...)

so...

the 

very. 

next. 

day. 

(i'm not even exaggerating) 

i was grocery shopping at Wal-Mart.  I had left leif with kjaer and was enjoying a toddler-free shopping trip.  you mama's know what i'm talking about.  i was savoring walking down the aisles whilst checking my list and actually crossing the things off of my list with a pen instead of mentally crossing off... which always gets me into trouble.  

i was standing in the bread aisle putting tortillas into my cart when an older man... probably in his 50's or 60's walked up to me.  he had a slight limp and there was really nothing else about him that stuck out to me.

anyways... he walked up to me, looked at my very round belly, and said:  making three bullet points in the air with his finger from top to bottom.  

"boy,

girl,

girl"

and then he walked away.

at first i laughed.  probably a nervous laugh because i'm not very good at playing things cool when i'm baffled.  and then i realized what truly just had happened.  

a stranger...

came up to me...

and told me...

about all of my children...

the one i had...

the two i didn't have yet...

and walked away.

so i started roving the aisles of wal-mart looking for a middle aged man with a limp and he was nowhere to be found.  i'm not sure exactly what i was going to say if i had found him... but i think it would have sounded something like... "sir, excuse me.  who are you and why did you say that to me?"  

i mean... who walks up to an extremely large pregnant woman and starts spouting off sexes of babies and quantities?  it would just be cruel.  

i never found him.

so i came home and told kjaer... whose first reaction was, "WE'RE GOING TO HAVE THREE?!?!  I DON'T THINK I CAN DO THAT. I JUST DECIDED TODAY THAT WE'RE GOOD WITH TWO." "

after kjaer settled down, we discussed it and decided that we wouldn't tell anyone about my strange encounter until baby k#2 was born.  i think i was mostly afraid people would think i was crazy.  we did end up telling immediate family and very close friends before the baby came, but i really did keep quiet because... well, it just all seemed so surreal.  

so you guys know what happened.  baby k #2 was born and she was a beautiful baby girl.  those that we had already confided in were astonished and we started telling everyone else about "walmart jesus" who we lovingly refer to him as... though maybe it was a "walmart angel".... i don't know.  

so here we are two and a half years later... i'm one week away from my 20 week ultrasound (where we will NOT be finding out again.)

 expecting a third child in itself is already amazing as kjaer was truly happy with two and i was the one who wanted one more.  however, it was really important to me that if we had one more, the decision came from kjaer.  so i was starting to wonder about ol' walmart jesus and if i was crazy.  but kjaer's heart changed and now, very suddenly, we find ourself expecting our third.  and we're thrilled.  and i'm getting a little bolder in believing that one of God's messengers really did show up for me in that Walmart store.  He showed up for my very insignificant, selfish request because sometimes He likes to blow us away with His love.  

so my question for you, dear friends and family... is what do YOU think?  

boy?

girl?

we won't know until a late day in May.  but i'm telling you, i believe... we believe... our loving God has already told us one ordinary january day in 2014 in a grocery store.  

love wins...

this blog was originally written around valentines day... but i didn't finish it (for an obvious 8.1 lb reason named henley!).  i didn't mind... i figured the following month i could finish it and post it for our anniversary.  that didn't happen.  so here it is... several months late.  

let me let you in on a little secret about kjaer and i...

we were destined...

had you told me ten years ago today that i would marry the man standing in front of me... i would have probably fainted in ecstasy and laughed in your face all at once... and that would be AFTER picking my jaw up off of the floor.

because it was about ten years ago that i sat with my mother, totally frustrated by the male species and ready to swear off men and be alone for the rest of my days.  

my life had been a series of unrequited infatuations with boys who paid no attention to me.  i have always wondered why this was... i couldn't figure out why some girls had the boys lined up around the block and why i was always their "cute friend" who couldn't seem to snag a boy if she tried.  i had recently experienced this with a couple of guys who had i really liked and who ignored the fact that i was even datable material.  

i was really beginning to think that something was wrong with me.

you hear me?

w.r.o.n.g.

i mean... how could i be so invisible to the male species?

so i was whining about this to my mom... who challenged me with what seemed like an absurd suggestion at the time.  she said, "why don't you ask God to reveal your husband to you?"

i laughed... probably snorted a little.

and then i went home that night and prayed my guts out.

i think i even cried... it was an act of honest sincerity and desperation.

that night i dreamed about a handsome man with a beard and when he hugged me, my face went into the safety of his chest.  in my dream i couldn't make out his features very well, just his beard.  i woke up feeling a little unnerved, thinking that i had dreamed my spouse was going to be Jesus.  and well... that made me feel a little... awkward and unholy. 

not that i ever feel holy... i'm just sayin'...

when my mom asked me about it i said,

thanks a lot mom.  now i just feel like a pervert because apparently i'm going to marry Jesus.

and, to make it worse, it was one of those dreams where i woke up in love.  i seriously walked around for days feeling like i was in love with this person already, even though i didn't know who they were.  some friends of mine suggested kjaer because he worked with me and he was the only person i knew with a beard.  but honest to the G.O.D., i did not even make that connection.  

several months later, kjaer asked me to go watch a meteor shower in the middle of the night and the rest is, as they say, history.

it wasn't until i was married for a few months already when my mom reminded me of that dream and i realized that God had been revealing kjaer to me.... not Jesus.  and wouldn't you know... when he hugs me, my face goes right into his chest.

so... he's literally the man of my dreams... if you catch my drift.

but he snuck up on me like a thief in the night because we were friends first...

i think i hooked him into being my friend when i came to school my first year of teaching with a BRAND NEW CAR.  i didn't really have a ton of friends yet but i really wanted to show someone my NEW CAR.  the hallways were inexplicably empty except for this handsome fellow i had talked a couple of times with.  somehow this came up when he and i passed in the hallway and he, very enthusiastically said, "well, i'll go out and see your new car!"  so we marched out to the parking lot at 7:30 in the morning for the big reveal.  i was twittering with excitement.  it was my NEW CAR and somebody (especially a handsome somebody) cared!

i can't even imagine what went through kjaer's head when we arrived at said NEW CAR.  i'm not sure what he was expecting... but i doubt it was an old 2 door Toyota Tercel.... which by the way... was THE nicest car i had owned to date and i LOVED it!  it had most of it's paint AND it's dashboard wasn't cracked... now that's high class!  AND it had my faceplate stereo installed in it... so i was living the dream.  he seemed really excited about it and i got the attention i was so desperately craving.  but i'm sure he went back to his classroom, shut the door, and bent over clenching his gut in fits of laughter.

see... i had judged him all wrong.  i thought because he had this sexy beard thing going on with longer hair and because he was a quiet, introverted artist... that he wouldn't judge me and my taste in cars because i assumed he wasn't interested in cars.  what i didn't know, and what i've come to learn over the past 9 years... is that the man is a car freak.  he knows so much about cars that i sometimes find myself pretending to know what he's talking about because he's so stinking smart about them i can't even follow his train of thought.

it's a little surprising he wanted to date me after that.

actually, it's a little surprising we got married after that!

anyways... at that point in kjaer's life, marriage was something he wanted no part of.  kind of like my aversion to scary movies.  he didn't want to think or talk about marriage or even acknowledge the possibility of it... just enjoy life.

so, it was a little stunning that he wanted to date me.  because... to a woman, at least a woman like myself... dating, if all goes well, leads to marriage.  and even though i told myself i wasn't going to concern myself with stuff like that and just enjoy our relationship... after a couple of years my brain was beginning to wonder if he was the one.

and we dated for awhile... quite awhile.

we have been married 4 years now... so you do the math.

sometimes this got frustrating, especially because we both didn't know where we were headed as kjaer wrestled with letting go of his aversion to marriage because he loved me so much.  but now i see that those years of dating have really solidified this thang we've got going on.  some of the brick walls that so many of our friends encountered after getting married had already been tackled by us before we were married because we learned to communicate through them.

and i'm not saying this makes our marriage better than anyone else's...

i just am seeing the greater purpose to it now as we enter this phase of life with babies...

because... you guys... i've never done anything so challenging as being a mama and a wife at the same time, in my life.

january 2014

if i could just be a wife... i could nail it.

if i could just be a mama... i could na--... well, that's a lie.  i need kjaer to be successful in that too.  i have no idea how you single mama's do it, but you deserve mad props!

to be both requires something more in me that makes me reach waaaaaayyyy down to the soles of my feet and give everything.... so much that sometimes i feel like i have nothing left for anyone, including myself.

and i'm sure kjaer would say the same about being my husband and a daddy at the same time too.  this newest challenge of having a family often overshadows some of the necessary time it takes to cultivate your relationship.

 but back in january i had a moment.
 we were watching the bronco game on the couch and i looked at him.  and in that split second, i really saw him again.

do you know what i mean?

i saw his strong jawline and his gorgeous eyes that made me so weak kneed nine years ago and i felt this explosion of love come surging out of me.  i lovingly grabbed his hand out of nowhere and said something really mushy to him... though i can't remember what it was now.  (he sort of looked at me like i had gone off of the deep end).  i couldn't believe that 9 years later i was sitting next to him, our two year old running around at our feet and me 9 months pregnant with our second child, happily married.  it was almost like it all was a dream...

or... like the matrix... my husband would excitedly exclaim.

because i, for reals, have myself a good man.  i have someone who loves me... and i mean REALLY loves me.  he's seen my giant, pregnant body naked and he STILL loves me (even i had a hard time loving that).  he's sat with me while i've sobbed uncontrollably about the smallest, most insignificant details and he STILL loves me.  he's followed me quietly into the deepest, darkest pits of myself and he STILL loves me.  he has been my rock during the most trying times of my life and he STILL loves me.  he has tenderly picked up the pieces of my broken heart after the death of my father when i thought i couldn't....

i repeat

COULD.
NOT.

go on anymore and he STILL loves me.  he let his bachelor pad get slowly taken over by the dreaded woman's touch... and do i even need to say it?

yup!  that man l.o.v.e.s. me.

sometimes it takes a little friction for me to remember this.

like a couple of months ago, i came downstairs totally burnt out from being mega-pregnant and mother to an almost 2 year old whose two hour bedtime routine was wearing on me.  i was feeling so wretched... isolated, alone, tired, jealous.  and i spewed forth the tears and the qualms... sometimes aiming my little darts at kjaer.  looking back, i suppose i was mostly just an exhausted person complaining and needing to be heard.  and i truly think that kjaer is the only man that God placed on this green earth to cope with this sort of behavior.  not that there's anything wrong with the feelings i was having... just how i was reacting.

sometimes i feel like i am like a bumpy texture on a wall
and kjaer is the special tool that smooths me out.

do you feel me?

he diffuses.  he loves.  he listens.

and then he goes to bed because doing all of that makes him really, really tired.

and i'm left thinking, damn i'm so blessed.

so blessed that he cares enough to do the hard work of being married, to get his hands dirty, and be my partner in crime for life.  so blessed that he walked out to that tercel with me one day back in 2003 and didn't humiliate me.  so blessed that he overcame his fears and took the plunge with me one perfect day in march of 2010.  so blessed to help him raise our children so that they can grow up to have his integrity, loyalty and passion.   so blessed that he holds me in the safe harbor of his arms and loves me and our children so intensely that he sacrifices bits of himself every day to make our lives better.

that, my friends, is the man i love.

that is the man of my dreams.

food for thought...

our triumphs and our defeats erupt from our vaults [of secrets]

-beth moore

secrets.

we all have them.  some are good, some are bad.  some we are holding onto faithfully for others because they had nowhere else to turn.  we file them away into our vaults... into the darkness to (try to) forget about or stuff down.  

regretfully... sometimes we're able to dust our hands off, turn around and walk out of our vault without looking back.  

and regretfully... sometimes we camp out in our vaults.

i learned almost 15 years ago about the freedom in sharing your deepest darkest secrets.  i had been carrying my own secret around, hiding it from everyone i knew... living in darkness.  one of the most freeing moments in my life, was digging that secret out of the cellar in my heart, brushing the spiderwebs off and telling my mom.  in that confession, i learned the art of acceptance, mercy and forgiveness... so beautifully displayed by my mother.  and since then, i've done my best not to file away my shame.  i try to be honest about who i am, where i've been and what i've done.  

but i know i'm nowhere near perfect.  while i've only begun to brush the spiderwebs away over the last 15 years, there is so much in that vault that even i don't know about.

for instance...

i have always known that after henley's birth i would need to lose a substantial amount of weight.  while many of you gain the recommended 20-30 pounds... my body does not do that.  i can truthfully say that this time i made a valiant effort at staying healthy, but still managed to gain almost the same amount of weight i did with leif.  i have always known that at my 6 week check-up i would get the green light to start losing a little weight... healthily, of course.  so i've anticipated this for a long time.

after henley was born my brain switched into countdown mode.  

6 weeks until i get it under control...

5 weeks until i get it under control...

4 weeks until i get it under control...

you get the picture.

 you see... i've been down this weight loss road now 3 separate times (with other minor events when i had to re-lose 5 pounds here or there).  the first time was after college when i lost about 45 pounds.  the second time was after leif was born and i lost 60 of the 75 pounds i gained with him (before becoming pregnant again).  now i've had henley... i've lost (as many do) about 30 pounds in the first 8 weeks... and have 30 to go until i'm to my wedding weight.  

so when i had about 1 week left to go... i did something that i've never done before. 

i decided to do my best to get to the root of the problem.  

i'm tired of having to struggle so much with my weight... so i asked God, over the course of several days, to shine His big old flashlight into the cobwebs of my heart and expose the motives to this roller coaster i've been on to me.  i figured if i could get to the root, i might be able to experience some of that freedom that i've experienced in other areas of my life.

and as the week unfolded... here is what i learned...

lean in... 

(it's a secret)

i have food issues.  

major food issues.

we are as sick as our secrets... right?

well, as the week progressed, i started to notice secrets about food that i had been avoiding for a long time.  like if i had mcdonalds and indulged in a quarter pounder with cheese, a large fry and a large coke... i'd take the evidence of said meal and walk it to our outside trash can so that kjaer wouldn't see it when he got home.  

why, you ask?

honestly, i don't even know.  kjaer couldn't care less if i stopped at mcdonalds for lunch.  you and i know an occasional fast food trek isn't something to be ashamed of.  but i wanted to hide it... like a big fat secret i was ashamed of.  probably because my eating over the first 6 weeks with henley was more like a feast than famine.  i've probably been to mcdonalds four times in those 6 weeks... which is more than i went in the past couple of years.

but deep down, subconscious monica knows that mcdonalds is no way to start losing weight.  she's thinking... 

the end times are near, i must fatten up!!!

  hence... the shame, the hiding... the secret.

but that's not all.

when kjaer isn't around, i secret snack. 

yes... it's a real thing... this secret snacking.

i find all sorts of things around the kitchen and try to snack so that kjaer won't notice that anything is missing.  if his mom has brought over some delicious cookies from her bakery, i eat several, making sure to leave plenty enough in each bag (there are usually several varieties) that it looks like none are missing.  i NEVER eat the second to last cookie... that's a dead giveaway.  

also... right before i go back on track with my eating

i go WAAAYYYY off track.

as in... i derail my train.

i try to hit every restaurant i know i'll be craving, as if it's my last time i'll eat there again... EVER.

it's a little wild (and expensive).

two mondays ago was my first official day back on track.  as i was dutifully counting my weight watchers points for every item going in my mouth (only cheating a couple of times, of course, another secret),  kjaer and i were happily eating dinner and talking.  he was sharing with me how much he loves me and how he doesn't want me to get too stressed out over losing this weight.  he loves me no matter what.  

which is soooo nice to hear...

and yet part of me had to actually tell my brain...

this DOES NOT mean you're off the hook.  you still have to lose your 35 pounds.

and then, i dug those food secrets out of my vault, and told my husband what i've been hiding from him for the last 4 years of our marriage and 5 years of our relationship (i do this stuff even when i'm thin!)  and let me tell you... 

it

felt

good

(a little embarrassing)

but good.

and do you know what i realized?

i'm no different than anybody else with an addiction.  

alcoholics do this.

shopoholics do this.

drug addicts do this.

compulsive liars do this.

WE

ALL

DO 

THIS

in some form, somehow.  

it's just the facing - the putting words to it - that makes it different.  if i air out some of these secrets i've been burying for unknown reasons... they are no longer secrets.  and if we're as sick as our secrets... then i have a few less bad secrets to keep... and less sickness.  

simple as that.  

i'm not saying there isn't a place for secrets.  i believe my role as a wife, friend, sister and daughter is to be a trusted listener and keeper of secrets.  i really work to protect the secrets that are shared with me.  i also believe in good secrets.  for example, if i were to try to bless someone because i had that desire placed upon my heart... i don't believe i should go talking about how i attempted to bless someones life by doing whatever i did... bragging is telling good secrets that should be kept to ones self. 

but what i am saying, is i think each one of us can think of something that needs a little air... something that needs to be said out loud to someone else... even if it's just a whisper of a prayer to God.  it doesn't mean you have to be a blabber mouth and post it on a blog, like me.  but maybe find your trusted confidant and share it with them.  maybe it's your partner, your best friend, a parent.  who knows?  but chances are, if you have picked that person wisely (that being KEY)... you will experience freedom... like a breath of fresh air stirring through your soul.  

so there...

now i've told you one of my minor secrets... i'm a mess when it comes to how i think about food.  please try your best to keep it.  but even if you tell everyone you know, i also know that the truth will set me free.  and hopefully this journey will be a learning experience for me this time, rather than something i HAVE to do.  

so here's to dusting off the cobwebs and shining a light into my darkest corners.

here's to freedom.

warrior princess...

henley wednesday kirkegaard
february 18, 2014
8.1 lbs

hot dang... we did it!

i have to say... several weeks later and i'm still feeling a bit like SheRa: Princess of Power.  kjaer (who is HeMan... i mean, obviously) and i had fought a 58 hour epic battle... and we won.

it started sunday morning, a day before i was due, when i peed myself.

just kidding...  i thought i peed myself in my sleep.  it was one of those humiliating pregnant moments... as if pregnant women don't have enough of those... where i felt something wake me up and thought... "well sh**".  i rolled out of bed like a turtle stuck on it's shell and waddled off to the bathroom.  but when i hit the hallway i knew something was different and i felt a big splash.  i stood there in a puddle of wetness, kind of in shock, because i was so certain that baby k2 would come late since leif did.  i had an internal dialogue going...

am i so pregnant i can't even control my bladder?

then...

did my water break?

that couldn't have been my water!

and then i heard myself cry out a couple of times in a reserved yet alarmed voice, KJAAAAEEERRR!

but alas, the man was asleep and he requires more than a whimper from the bathroom to awaken him.  so, being sure to move our freshly cleaned bathroom rug out of the way (remember i had gone into ultra cleaning mode a couple of weeks ago? i couldn't possibly risk getting the clean rug dirty!) i started cleaning up the mess.  but more liquid kept coming.  finally, i faced reality and wrapped a towel between my legs and waddled over into the darkness of our room and woke kjaer up...

i think my water just broke...

our house went into a sudden bustle.  i texted our doula, who knew better than i that labor would probably not start for awhile, and we began to ready ourselves for the hospital.  we had to go to the hospital because this pregnancy i was strep b positive and i had been told by the midwives that i could labor at home until my water broke, upon which they'd want to start antibiotics right away.  well... of course we had to do it backwards and my water broke before my contractions came.  my doula had indicated we could probably stay at home... but you guys know me.  i was already feeling nervous about the whole VBAC thing and i'm kind of a control freak (snort!) so we decided to head in.  my mother in law came and picked up leif and we were off... a pile of towels under me... to the hospital.

our hearts were racing... we were giddy with excitement.  (and we missed leif terribly already!)

breakfast at the hospital

once i got to the hospital they confirmed it was my water and then let me know that it could take another 12-24 hours for labor to start.  they admitted me and then told us to go grab some breakfast.  so kjaer and i fled the campus for burger king and brought it back to the hospital where we sat in a sun-shiney spot and talked excitedly. after we went upstairs, they started me on antibiotics and we settled into our labor room to wait and rest.  i'd have occasional contractions, but mostly it was just a peaceful waiting time.  i napped a little, though i was too excited to really sleep deeply.

around 9 in the evening kjaer and i were exhausted from sitting around and waiting.  we decided to go to bed.  we pulled out kjaer's hide-a-bed and snuggled up together for the night.  an hour later, my labor started.  it was fairly mild... enough that i could breath through it and go back to sleep in between contractions.   but mild labor only lasted an hour and pretty soon i was having strong contractions... with the dreaded back labor.

my massive profile - when labor started

in spite of all of my hullabaloo about an unmedicated birth... i've always deep down been terrified of back labor.  in fact, i wouldn't even say the words aloud for fear that i would be cursed with it.

but clearly that didn't matter, because i had it... and it sucked...

...and not just a little.

the nurse and kjaer were incredible.  i was having double and triple contractions and they were right there with me.  the midwife that night was more hands off.  she tried talking with me, but i was so tired i couldn't respond so she asked me if i needed some quiet.  i responded yes... which i realize now might have seemed rude... but she asked!  she left and i hardly saw her again.  by four or five in the morning i was in such intense pain i could hardly handle it.  i thought for sure i was at 5 centimeters because i had been laboring so hard and working like a champ.  the nurse decided to get me into the tub because she could tell i was in so much pain.   the tub felt good, but when i knew it was slowing things down i wanted to jump out.  i didn't want to go backwards.  but it was too late.  it stalled.

at some point they finally checked to see how far i had dilated... i was 1 1/2 centimeters.  this was pretty frustrating since i had been dilated a centimeter a week before my water had even broken and had been laboring all night like a mad woman.  when the midwives changed shifts, claudia came in... a midwife i had worked with for the past several weeks.  she had me start pumping and get labor going again. (who knew, right?)

by lunchtime i was sick of the breast pump. i would stare at it in disdain between contractions and curse it every time i had to use it. labor would start, i'd labor for an hour or so and stall and have to go back and pump again.  i hated that damn pump.  i wanted to throw it out the window.

by this time claudia was bringing up the dreaded "p" word... pitocin.  i could feel myself react like a pissed off cat internally when it was brought up.... i think because i knew that if they started pitocin i would have more intense contractions than i would if i were naturally in labor... and to be honest, i wasn't sure if i could handle that after the previous night of back labor.  i also knew that the risks to my baby (and myself) went up with more medical interventions.  i wanted to stay away from that at all costs.

so we called in the big guns, whitney, our doula.  i have to say, i'm so glad we made the decision to have whitney there... her expertise was invaluable and helped us make a lot of key decisions over those next 30 hours that proved to be the right ones.  so she came to the hospital, along with a bottle of castor oil.  she talked with us about how castor oil usually gets things started within 1-2 doses or so.  when claudia came back to check on me, probably certain i would be ready to start pitocin, i asked her if she could give me 4 hours to try a dose of castor oil.  she was pretty open to it... though i know she was hesitant because the longer we stretched out labor, the more we were increasing the risk of infection to the baby and i.

i should probably pause the storytelling here to clarify that the only reason i kept moving forward without medical intervention was because Henley and i were both doing so well.  had her heart rate dropped or if i was showing signs of infection (a temperature) i would have stopped pushing forward and done what the midwives recommended.  i NEVER would have put Henley or myself in a position where either of us would be at risk.  i'm only saying this because i think so many people who have heard this story wondered why kjaer and i would keep going for as long as we did... and that's why.  never once did Henley show signs of distress or did i show signs of infection.

so i took the castor oil...a 1/2 of a dose... with a cup of orange juice (BLECH) and waited.  during this time i took another nap while whitney hung out at the hospital.  when i woke up, she and i walked the halls for awhile to try to get labor started and talked.  during this time she talked to me a little more about pitocin.  she had said that if we could just get me to dilate to at least 2 cm, i would have a much better chance with pitocin than if i was at 1.  she had seen too many births go south (c-section) because pitocin was started too early (between 0 and 1 cm).  i think it was her way of prepping me too, and letting me stay more open to the idea that we may have to use medicine as an intervention.  but, deep down, i was still clinging to my unmedicated birth.

four hours later, nothing had happened and it seemed like claudia was anxious to start the pitocin.  baby k2 and i were still doing well, so i asked for 4 more hours to take a second dose of castor oil and brought out the dreaded breast pump again.  i could tell i was frustrating her a bit.  but i promised her that if nothing was happening by 10 that evening, we could start pitocin.

so this time i took a full dose and got to work with that wretched pump.  within an hour i was in  active labor.  it was dinner time and i was trying to eat through it.  we sent whitney home because she had been up for two nights in a row with other births and we wanted her well rested for when we really needed her.  she said to call her at any point we needed her and headed home.  at first i was feeling like a rockstar.  kjaer and i had this sort of dance going on.  but soon i required more than two hands.  i needed kjaer in front of me and then the nurse and the midwife applying pressure to my back.  pretty soon i was in such intense labor i was throwing up.  i was having triple contractions and i'm pretty sure the whole labor and delivery floor could hear my moans and cries.  but i clung to that 4-5 centimeter mark... because i knew that then i could get into the tub without labor stalling.  so i tried to power through.

it was during this time where i felt so intensely close to my husband.  i've always been proud of the team that we are, the way we communicate and how we work through things together.  but this was a different sort of challenge... and i've never been more proud of us.  we were the a-team... well, kjaer was the a-team.  he handled me like a pro, and i wasn't always the easiest person to pacify.  after all, i couldn't talk because i was just trying to breath through contractions.  he had read that this would happen later in labor and that often women would slap at their partners or use gestures since they couldn't communicate any other way.  ummm... that definitely happened a few times.  he read me like a book and he did it without taking any of it personally... because of course he was doing a fabulous job, i was just in the worst pain of my life.  truthfully, if i had to choose one person in the world to go through that with... midwives, doulas, nurses, doctors included... it was him.  you could've eliminated any one else in the room... if we were in some dark cave and i got to pick one person to be with me to get me through that, it would've been him.  when that pain hit, i wanted his body in front of me.  i would throw my arms around him and inhale his delicious smell and feel his strong hands on my back as he whispered to me.  he always knew the right things to say and didn't falter when it got ugly.

and it did get ugly... i mean, i did take two doses of castor oil... need i say more?

we had set a deadline to measure me... 2 in the morning.  so i kept trying to power through the intense labor.  the whole time i was having visions of being in a nice warm tub, which i knew would help my back pain so much.   by the time they measured me, i was writhing... i mean w.r.i.t.h.i.n.g. in agony.  they had to wait for my triple contractions to stop, lay me down (which is impossible when you are in hard labor and weigh a million pounds) and check.

and here is the first time i really got mad a God.

i was so sure with how hard i was working and because of the terrible back labor, that i would be at least 4 cm.  but no... i was 2 cm.  i had been working my butt off for 8 hours and had dilated a whole 1/2 a cm.

if you've been keeping track of this timeline, you can see that we had now been up for almost 48 hours straight and i had progressed a whopping 1 cm in the 30 hours of active labor i had traversed through so far.

we were getting no where 

(except when you consider that our doula's goal was to get to at least 2 cm... which we did)

i felt so exhausted.  i didn't have the energy to go on.  if it took me 24 hours to gain a half of a centimeter, i'd be in the hospital for weeks!  i couldn't bare the thought of back labor with triple contractions for days and days. the midwife advised that i get an epidural since my labor wasn't really progressing and i was so fatigued she was concerned i wouldn't have the energy i needed at the end to push.  i felt like 48 hours was a good shot and kept the ultimate goal in mind... a VBAC.  it was more important to me than accepting medication.

it took 3 times for the anesthesiologist to get the epidural in.  every time he'd miss i'd see kjaer's face fall with that look that says, "COME ON, MAN!  get my poor woman out of this misery!"  when the epidural went in i fell asleep almost immediately after it had taken effect.

i slept for about 3 hours.  i have vague memories of nurses coming in and rolling me from side to side.  they'd say, "the baby doesn't like that side so we're going to move you." then they'd come in again and say the same thing and roll me again.  i woke up around 5 to them strapping oxygen on me and mentioning "the baby" again.

and here is the lowest point of my whole experience...

as i laid there in that dark room, dead weight for legs and oxygen on my face, i mulled over my sleepy memories and worried that i was doomed for a c-section.  this moment is so clear to me because it was that point where everything i had fought for... not only in the last 50 hours... but the last nine months... wasn't going to happen.  the dark room felt like a dark pit... so symbolic of the defeat i was feeling.  i tried to tell myself i had done everything possible.  but deep down i felt so crushed.

it was a dark place for me...

the nurse, who had helped us labor through the night, came in to check on me and i looked at her with weepy eyes and asked, rather pitifully i might add, "am i getting a c-section?"

i swear the girl was an angel in disguise.  she smiled so reassuringly and said, "no... you're doing so well.  the baby looks great and your contractions are regular now.  they are going to measure you later this morning to see how far you've progressed.  it's not over yet!"

they had started pitocin while i was sleeping because the contractions had stalled (...AGAIN!) and i was now having regular, strong contractions.  so i sat in bed to relax and wait.  as the morning went on, i decided that i might as well look good for pictures (i mean, DUH!)... so i put on make-up while i chatted with my mom on the phone.  as i was talking with her, i started feeling a strange sensation in my derriere.  it started to intensify so much that i'd have to stop talking to my mom and breath through it.

i told the new nurse for the day, "i'm feeling pain... shooting pain, in my butt."

she'd say, "yes dear, pressure is normal."

and i'd get that nervous, high pitched voice and answer, "no... not pressure... pain."

pretty soon i was having to brace myself for each contraction, because it would send shooting pains, like knives, through my... well, you know... rear-end.  the midwife came in and looked at me quizzically, and said, "something big must be happening for you to be feeling that kind of pressure."

and i'd correct her and say, "pain."

the anesthesiologist came in and told me she could try to place another epidural.  she said that nine times out of ten it would help and rarely did it not help.  but she wanted to see how far i progressed before she placed it.

i was back to being extremely uncomfortable but handling it the best i could, especially because i couldn't get up and walk it off like before due to the dead weight i had for legs.  the midwife measured and i was 5 cm.  i thought the whole room would erupt into high fives... and she looked at me reassuringly and said, "it looks like you're going to have your VBAC!"

the anesthesiologist put in a fresh epidural (for the fourth time for those keeping track) and i waited for the pain in my booty to subside... which it did.

but within an hour i could feel every contraction in my front end... and they kept getting more and more intense.  so basically, my epidural took my back labor away... but i was about to have an unmedicated birth... even though technically i was medicated.

i have to admit, after all i had gone through, i got a little mad at God a second time here.  my visions of epidurals were that you got to sit back, relax and enjoy your painless birth (my vision might have included kjaer and i toasting with champagne glasses, too... but whatever)  ... and here i was, experiencing pain as if i was having an unmedicated birth.

truthfully, it kind of felt like a sick joke.

the pain kept escalating until i was clinging to kjaer's hands and crying out during each contraction.  the midwife came in, looking confused again.  when she checked me i was 7 cm in between contractions but 9 centimeters during a contraction.  she smiled at me and said, "you're gonna have this baby very soon!"

kjaer called our doula down and we readied ourselves to meet our newest little one.

well, i didn't ready myself.  i rolled with the waves of the contractions.  i feel like things got very primal for me... and that i almost turned into another creature.  i'm sure my eyes glazed over and i seemed like an entirely different person... because i felt like a different person. it's like i went deep inside of myself to work through the greatest obstacle of my life, and the only person who could reach me was kjaer.  this part of my memory is a little fuzzy.  i have snapshots of memories, like Polaroid pictures in my mind that i can flip through.  if i could walk you through these dreamlike memories... you would see my face right up against kjaer's face while i clung to him (although i can't remember exactly what part of him i was holding onto... that's how vague the whole thing is).  i'm not sure the reasoning, but i needed him right up in my face, needed to hear his voice, feel his strong hands, smell his smell.  he'd ask me in between contractions if i'd want ice chips and i'd fall into a deep, deep 15 second sleep while he scooped them from a cup and then shake me to wake me up and feed them to me.  once he asked me if i wanted chapstick and i fell asleep.  when he woke me up i tried to eat it, thinking it was ice chips.  during contractions i can clearly recall looking down at my midwife and seeing "other" people i didn't recognize and wondering who the heck they were, but not really caring enough to find out.  i couldn't talk anyway so i suppose it didn't matter.  when things got really serious, they repositioned me and i remember my doula coaching me while she held one of my legs.  i think i was on my right side and she'd say something to the effect of, "with your next contraction i want you to take that sound your making and turn it into a lion's growl."  then she'd make the sound for me so i could hear it.  and what do you know, next contraction i'd get kjaer right up in my face, she'd hand me my leg so i could bear down and then i'd start to make the sound she told me and i could feel the baby move down.  it was amazing.  so my clearest memories are of my husband when i'd open my eyes and listening for my doula's voice coaching me.

at some point i felt a change and kjaer's cheering would get more enthusiastic.  the doula would tell me to do something, i'd do it and kjaer would excitedly say, "keep doing that, keep doing that." and i knew he must be seeing some sort of progression.  when i heard him say, "reach down and feel the head," i knew we were close.  once i could feel her head, it was like that last quarter mile of a half marathon.  i had a sudden burst of energy and knew i could finish this.

i remember the "ring of fire" hurting... and that thought of oh, so THAT's why they call it the ring of fire!  and then i remember that in between the contractions, henley would slip back in and the next contraction i'd have to bare the "ring of fire" again and thinking, what.the.heck. i thought you only had to do the ring of fire once!  at some point i recall thinking, who the h** cares how bad it hurts... it's going to hurt until you push her out... so PUSH!!!

henley was born shortly after that.  

it was the most amazing and rewarding accomplishment of my life.  

the room flew into activity and i feel like i kind of started to come out of my fog... or zone...  or tunnel... or whatever it was.  henley wasn't crying, so the pediatric team took her to suction her lungs out with kjaer right there.  a nurse next to my bed said, "it's a boy!!!"  i remember feeling authentically surprised, because deep down i had always felt like i was going to have a girl.  kjaer told me that at that same time a dr. over with him said, "it's a girl!!"  and he was angry because he had wanted to tell me and i had heard it from some stranger.  but during that time i was busy delivering the placenta and listening to my midwife coach me so i had never heard it.  when that last part of business was done, i asked "so we had a boy?"  the midwife smiled and said, "daddy, are you going to tell her what you had?"

and kjaer turned around and said, "we had a little girl!"  

i knew it!!!!

as i reflect on those 58 hours, i feel so amazed and blessed at how each part... whether frustrating or exciting... was grooming me for the next chapter of our adventure.  i find it mind blowing that pitocin... the dreaded drug i wanted nothing to do with... actually saved my VBAC.  without it i'm pretty sure we would have ended up having a c-section.  i now find it such a blessing that the epidural didn't numb my pain (well, actually... it DID take away the back labor... pa-raise Jesus!) and that even though i was "medicated" i experienced an unmedicated birth just like i had originally wanted.  this was like facing my own personal mt. everest and summiting... i can't even describe the emotions that go with this to you.  i heard a woman once describe labor as an empowering time when a woman faces her biggest, darkest trial in life... and overcomes it.  and how it's then that she truly understands that she can do anything.  that's as close as i can get to how i felt.  

a few days later, driving henley home from the hospital, still high on the endorphins of all we had been through... i turned to kjaer and said, i know what henley's birth taught me... but i still don't know what leif's birth taught me.    

i felt a little guilty about this... because leif's birth wasn't the experience i had hoped for.  of course, we got our beautiful little boy out of the whole thing and he and i were healthy, which is what really matters... but it had been emotionally and physically traumatic for me.  i felt robbed and exposed and invaded by the doctors.  

however, it was brought to my attention by my wise mother that leif's birth taught me about perseverance.  the weeks and months following leif's birth were full of challenges that i had never expected: recovering from a major surgery, breast feeding issues, post-partum depression.  all of these things were trials that i had to persevere through.  sometimes it felt like i was walking through wet concrete with lead boots on.  i remember that about 5 or 6 months after he was born, i felt like i finally came out of the fog and could really enjoy being a mother to my beautiful son.  but it wasn't until i had persevered through some challenging issues that i never had thought of facing.  

when we got pregnant again, leif's birth also taught me how to advocate for myself.  i kept asking questions and educating myself the whole time, trying to make sure that this time i would do everything i could to make the birth as "healthy" and natural as i could and make sure i didn't get pigeon holed into something i didn't want to do again.  because of my perseverance... we got that birth.

henley's birth, and the last couple of months leading up to it, taught me about another facet of myself i had not seen yet... that i'm a fighter.  when i began suspecting my doctor's intentions a couple of months before i was due... i did the scariest thing anyone could have ever done in my very pregnant shoes... i left her safety zone and went out into the world where i didn't know anyone anymore.  we researched and interviewed... it was totally stressful... until we found a place that lined up with our expectations (6 weeks before we were due).  and then we waited.  when i went into labor (or at least when my water broke) i thought i'd have your typical 24 hour labor and have a baby.  i didn't think i, of all people, would be the woman who powered (and cried and sometimes screamed) her way through 58 hours of endless back labor and triple contractions.  i didn't think i would be the woman who would decline suggestions of her midwife in order to try castor oil (another game-changer for us... don't think i would have hit 2 cm without it).  i didn't think i would give in for an epidural... only to have it not work and power through the pain to have our baby.  leif taught me to never give up... and henley taught me that i'm a fighter... that when i want something, i will fight hard enough for it and i won't stop until i have it.  

it's amazing how God uses these little creatures He blesses us with to teach us about parts of ourselves we hadn't even known before.  now i know that you can put any obstacle in front of me, and i can rise to the occasion... especially if it involves my little ones and my man.  i'm a mama and wife who will not accept defeat, who perseveres and fights for what she believes in.

i'm a warrior.