Not So Ann Voskamp-ish

I sit on the bed trying to nurse my 3 week old, while a toddler with a ridiculously foul smelling diaper is climbing all over me asking a million questions and demanding juice. When I tell him no, he proceeds to pitch a fit on the floor. At first I think I should congratulate him on the stellar timing of his display, seeing as how I can't really do anything about it. But it gets worse and I realize I must do something about it. I then attempt to walk around the house and nurse the baby as I search for a wooden spoon, only to realize I'm not very gifted in that capacity and am really only leaking all down the front of me, or rather spewing like a geyser. In this moment I offer up a silent prayer that neither the neighbor or landlord show up at the back glass door, because it always seems to happen at the worst of times. Once I finally make it to the kitchen and look in the canister on the counter, lo and behold, no wooden spoons. Of course not. We only have 12 of them and the fact that I no longer have any I can use for cooking but they are scattered throughout the house is proof that we have a toddler. I finally find one and head back to my room to preform the fantastic workout move I like to call the "one armed football baby hold and deep floor squat with opposing arm bootie pop." What do ya know! It's great for both our backsides. In comes a preschooler holding a laptop stating that her computer program is jammed and not working. I then attempt to fix it but do you know how hard it is to use a laptop mouse with one arm at an awkward angle!? Enter the final child with a phonics question not even I know how to answer without the help of google. Homeschool mom fail. So within 60 seconds I have fed a baby, searched the house for a spoon, disciplined a toddler, fixed a computer problem, and used my phone to search for words that end in -alk. It would be fine if it was just those 60 seconds... but it has been those 60 seconds every 60 seconds.

Brain = fried. Emotions = frazzled. I am exhausted on every level. It's after 2:00 and I have not brushed my teeth, gotten out of my pajamas, and barely eaten since my scrambled eggs at 7am. I know it won't be like this forever. This is just a season. I'm gonna miss this one day. Please don't tell me these things, well-meaning person. I know all this! Its just the short distance from my brain to the dark circles under my eyes that struggle to grasp it. As I reach for the burp cloth and find Asher's toy gun underneath, I can't help but smirk at the irony. And before you panic, no I am not suicidal. Even though the thought of peaceful silence in a padded coffin does sound enticing... but no, maybe the asylum is a better choice. Go ahead and call me in. A nice clean white outfit and clean white room and 3 meals a day prepared for me sound quite posh about now.

Truth: I love my children. Another truth: I battle my job description. I do not like running a daycare. If I took a career assessment test I would be told to "pack up my desk immediately." I would be informed that I am under qualified. Not gifted in this area. It wouldn't even register on my chart as a remote possibility to have a job in this field.

Don't get me wrong, I love being with my kids. Everyday I see moments I am so glad I get to witness. If I had to drop them off somewhere everyday, I would cry! (ok well maybe some days I would lift my hands to heaven as I was pulling away, but those would be rare...) I am so blessed to have these gifts and to invest in their lives and lead their souls. But even still, I battle the daily.

I battle my lack of "business tools." Logistically, I am most frustrated. Yes, yes, the house situation. I truly am not trying to sound like a broken record, but a few things would be super helpful: a fenced yard, resources, and at least enough space to put everyone somewhere for attempted "quiet time" without being right under each other's noses. I am sick of "make-shift" living here... if I had known it would be 4 years I would have invested in some things to help a long time ago! Yet now it feels futile. Because perhaps a move is on the horizon? Then again it may not be... I just don't feel like talking about it anymore.

I battle my free spirit. Surely it will get the best of me! It would be so much simpler if I were the contented homebody... loved a good book, cup of tea, and life in my pjs. Yet I love adventure, exploration, going and doing, freedom! But when the most exciting thing on my horizon is the fact that tomorrow, I get a couple hours alone with an infant to shop for groceries at Costco, it is pretty thrilling. Wohoooo, can somebody throw a few streamers in my face!? Party on the bayouuuuu!

I wish that somehow I could pause my life and borrow one day from my "empty-nester" years to come... er wait.... too many wrinkles. Maybe back up to life before all this, like.... the 2 years between graduating high school and getting married and enjoy that day, I would. Just to be free like the wind! It feels like the big world is spinning and carrying on outside and I am stuck in a time capsule. I feel monotony take over my existence. Which I hate, but being a spartan I can grit and bear it and power through no matter how much it kills me. Yet it does... it kills me. I have dreams, hopes and plans. I know that I can get there. Just not right now. Again, I am told to "wait."

I do my best to smile, and be grateful and have joy in Jesus! But I really feel anger. Resentment. Frustration. There are unanswered prayers. I feel overlooked. It's been a long journey with God being silent. There has been so much that only God knows. I read books about contentment and try to adapt the missionary lifestyle. Surely if she could praise Jesus with nothing but a prison cell, rags to wear, and cockroaches to count, I can praise Him when the budget is tight! I read verses that say "in everything give thanks!" Yet my mind scrolls through the verse about "bringing a sacrifice of praise" and all I can think is yeah, sacrifice alright! My bloody life is on the stone altar going up in smoke being sacrificed as a burnt offering!!!!

And I wonder where my daughter gets her drama.

I do my best to be a good wife and follow but I question my husband's decisions and leadership at times. I'd rather be in charge sometimes. Way to rock that Proverbs 31 attitude! ((thumbs up))

Please don't tell me the pat answers. Give me little ditty lines. My head knows the truth. Yet I battle here on this earthly ground.

So we break away from the homestead and go for a walk. To get some fresh air, to have a change of scenery from the 1100 sq feet of closterphobia. As I watch my girls run ahead, ruffled dresses flowing in the breeze for a moment I think how worth it life is. How these moments keep me going. All my troubles begin to melt and I see my blessings. Ahhhhh, yes! This is my 1,000 gifts moment! Look at me, I'm Ann Voskcamp!

Well that lasted for 2 minutes. Now one of my children is complaining about how their legs hurt and they want me to carry their tricycle and push the double stroller the rest of the block as I listen to them whine about how tired and thirsty they are. In the background I almost swear I can hear someone singing... "why does love always feel like a battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefielddddd!"

eucharisteo = poof.

I know what you are thinking. I'm negative. Debbie Downer. Ungrateful. Discontent. The truth? Yep I am. I'm a train wreck. I try, Lord knows I try! I just had a pretty honest conversation with Him about how tired I am of trying and giving my all to have a good attitude and see the bright side and trust His promises. I'm exhausted of that, truth be told. I told Him that if He wants that for me, He has to create it in me. Because I can't muster it up anymore. Somehow whenever I pray this I think He is up there nodding His head in affirmation that I finally quit trying to be my own Holy Spirit. That I finally surrendered my effort to His yoke. I'm sure it must be true.

It feels like the alternative to trying is giving up. I hate giving up. It feels hopeless. Wussy. A comp out. I would rather be a trying Christian and not getting anywhere than a giving up Christian that is intentionally sitting still. I know in the eyes of God it's not any better. But it sure as heck feels better.

But what happens if I don't try? If I don't try to accept my lot, to rejoice in Jesus, to be a good mom, to bloom where I'm planted? I know we are told to rejoice always. To count it all joy. To be of good cheer. These are commands, are they not?

Yet why at times does it simply feel like a mask to hide my true sentiments? To be a faker. To pretend something is that isn't.

I know there is a time to be raw with God. To be raw and let it sit. I suppose that is where I am. Perhaps you read all of this and are thinking "that's it, where's the conclusion, the glowing exhortation, the hope and truth at the end of the story?"

Well today there isn't. It's a casting-my-burdens on the Lord and trusting He sustains me. He doesn't need my "being a good christian" help. Which is a dang good thing, because today I don't have it. I'm worn. I am floating out at sea in a boat with some leaks and just lost my paddle. I wish I had undying hope and unwavering resolve, but after a while it just wears thin.

So here I sit. In my quiet spot. Which is really kinda lame, but its the only quiet place I can find... the steps leading out to the laundry room/storage/David's work shed. Yeah I'm super ghetto like that. Here's a reality shot folks:

Here I sit, crying out. Praying for help to be on the way. For hope. For a reminder that He knows and He has not forgotten. For either relief to come externally or internally. If He wants me to be brave enough to carry on He will have to give me that. If He wants me to sit still, He will have to strengthen that in me. If He wants me to hope, He will have to restore that. If He wants me to believe, He will have to help my unbelief.

Eisley Aviana

What a journey. Seriously. The 9 months and 4 days leading up to sweet baby girl's birth felt like a badillion quajillion years of mental insanity and hormonal irrationality. Ok wow, not the most endearing way to start a birth story blog post. But yeah. I'm pretty much raw like that. ;)

It is, however a sweet story. Of God's intensive journey to box me in a tight space and create no margin for my head to turn left or right but to stare... straight at Him, straight into His eyes, wearing no yoke but His and be still and know He is God, He is in control, He sees, He cares.

I like wide open spaces and room to roam and freedom. And yet this journey although it felt restrictive was all about freedom. Freedom came where I least expected it and in a form unbelievable by the human rationale. It came in the yoke, in the collision of my soul with His heart, of my plans spilled out and His will relentlessly driving. I fought "the box" of my life until I was tired, sore, and worn from beating at the wind. Then I sat. In the dark. And I waited for Him. Waited for a voice, a sign, direction. And got nothing. 

Then I was slammed into the face of what gratitude means. The triteness of it made me want to throw a fit of rage. It was too simple, too obvious, too obnoxious to be quite honest. But as my eyes opened to behold my daily gifts and my obsession with the longing for perfection faded, I began to feel freedom. To see a world of beauty and goodness all around me, and immaculate grace under girding me. I still fought my battle of the box, but yet somehow it was different. There were tears of honesty instead of punching the cardboard.... telling Him my frustrations and leaving them there. I found a Savior with a compassionate heart that loves me too much to give the child pitching a fit the lollipop. I found peace when it made no sense. I found joy when it felt hopeless. I found myself to be a selfish, entitled brat, as my life is filled with good things if only I'd turn on the windshield wipers see.

Freedom. Bright, hopeful freedom. To be who I am. To be at peace. To rest in His presence. To quit fighting. To live in the moment. To cease striving. To celebrate good gifts. To feel joy in the simplicity of life.

I remember the Sunday in church before Eisley was born. I was already 2 days late. We started singing one of my favorite songs, with deep personal meaning for me from when we first moved here to Tennessee... "Always" by Kristain Stanfill. I began crying because I knew, God had not delayed. He had come through. He was my Refuge and Strength. I did not have to fear the war, the storm... His promises are true. He always, always came through for me. Even when it did not look the way I thought it should. I knew the time was close and that He was bringing me full circle in this journey.

Ok now for the physical "nitty gritty" ;) For several days I had been having contractions off and on, labor pains, etc. Sporadic, inconsistent, but honestly just uncomfortable and making it hard to do much of anything. It was keeping me up at night, it was getting so old. I kept just taking it a day at a time, knowing I wouldn't be pregnant forever. Tuesday night I kept waking up off and on with contractions, but was half asleep (or trying to) and I knew they were irregular. When I woke up and started about my morning routine I kept having to stop and felt sharp pains. I told David I didn't feel good about him going to work yet, maybe wait an hour or two. I kept having contractions all morning, anywhere from 2 min apart to 15 min apart. I am always in denial when I'm in labor. It finally takes David saying "I'm calling the midwife" (with me protesting greatly) to get things going. He called my sweet friend Kim to come get the kids too. I was a nervous wreck at this point, just hoping and praying this was it, because I would hate to be putting everyone out for no reason! It seemed perfect though, because my prayer had been that I go into labor during the day so the kids wouldn't have to be woken and transported in the middle of the night. I have never gone into labor during the day, so this seemed so weird! But now looking back I am so grateful for this specific answer to prayer! We were a bit nervous though, because for this pregnancy I was GBS positive and knew I needed to get the antibiotic IV going as soon as labor hit. Ideally you need 2 doses, and they have to be 4 hours apart. One of my labors was only 4 hours, so I wanted to make sure I got it in time.

At 11:30 Kim picked up the kids and everyone was super excited and ready for a sleepover! The midwife got here about 15 min later. She brought in her gear and checked me. She said that since my contractions were only lasting about 30 seconds that she did not consider it "active labor." I was bummed but knew somehow that we were on the labor train and it would keep rolling. She said she would leave her stuff here because she thought I was close, but to call her when they are 1 min long for over an hour. She left and I sat on the couch and sure enough, they got longer and stronger. It was so strange for me - when I walked around, the labor slowed up. When I sat or lied down, it picked up. Usually I have to power walk or squat my way to progress, but resting seemed to be the trick. Fine by me! The midwife came back around 1:00 and said yep, you're in labor. I was having to really work through the contractions and was at 4 cm. The next 6-7 hours was just a steady, calm progression. She worked hard to find a vein to get my IV going. I always have problems with that! Finally got the dose. That was a relief! I sat indian style on the couch almost the whole time. Lying down a few times. Contractions got stronger and harder. The ironic thing was I felt so calm. So much peace, relaxation, clarity of mind. I was able to let go, feel the pain, and mentally just let my body do it's thing. I used lavender oil on my palms and forehead this time, that seemed to help. Dave had quiet music playing. It truly was a Zen Spa. hahahah ;) I really was in my "zone." Dave sat nearby playing games on his ipad, haha! He was there if I needed something, but as he told me later "you were doing this thing on your own, you really didn't need me!" Emotionally I wanted him near. But physically I felt very in control.

The midwife assistant arrived around 7pm and brought dinner for Dave and both of them. Normally I love Macaroni Grill but the smell of it made me want to throw up... this is where peppermint oil on a warm rag came to the rescue! I sniffed it and it eased my stomach.

My midwife got the second IV going. Just as it finished, labor was getting super intense.

Finally I got in the tub at this point. It was a little too warm and I quickly got overheated and got out. About 45 min later contractions were super painful. I decided to get in again. I kept mentally telling myself I had a long way to go so I wouldn't get discouraged. I didn't realize I was in transition at this point. I got in the tub and after a few contractions I was taken by surprise and my water broke! With my last 2 when my water broke, the babies were born in the next contraction. I was in shock, excited, and bracing myself for what was coming next. I knew this was the final hurdle and it would be over. David was behind me outside of the tub, letting me lean my head on his shoulder and holding my hand. This was when I needed him most. He is my rock. I had a couple hard contractions after that with no urge to push, nothing. I started thinking "what if she doesn't come for a long time... I don't know if I could handle that!" Finally I had a contraction and pushed with all my strength. Then another. Her head was out! Then the most intense part... her body still inside! Never had that happen but it was.... wow... no words to describe! All I could think was "get this baby OUT OF ME!!!!" I pushed like my life depended on it for a 58 seconds straight (but it felt like 5 min!) as the midwife worked to compact her and gently guide her out. Even in that moment, when the pain was at it's peak I remember clarity of mind to breathe (I had hyperventilated with McKayla), call out to the Lord, and pay attention to my body. I knew I needed to push but was trying not to force it. At last she was out and they handed this wet little baby girl to me and I just cried. We all cried. The only thing on my mind was what I blurted out... "God, you are so good to me!" I just rejoiced in His presence, His guiding hand, His peace, and the healthy arrival of a new sweet one to join our family. Overwhelmed!!!

At first her hair looked dark but it was wet. When she got cleaned up we noticed it was more of a copper brown/auburn shade. Beautiful! And a thick head of it. When I compared baby pics, she looked the most like McKayla. Tiny little facial features, petite and sweet.

My placenta had some issues coming out, so I was quickly moved to the bed. It was collapsing on itself and my midwife was afraid it would create blood clots. Finally we got it out and were able to move on. Baby girl got weighed, cleaned up, a was given a full examination. We got all our postpartum instructions and Mary Anne and Kelly worked hard to clean up everything. Let me tell ya, they leave your house cleaner than it was before! They are fantastic like that. By now, I was hungry and the Mac Grill sounded good this time! :) David heated some up for me and we sat in bed admiring our baby and eating pasta. She had been nursing like a pro for about an hour now. Which is a good thing because her blood sugar was low, just like Asher's was after birth. Thank God she nursed easily and we were able to bring it back up. Her agapar score was a perfect 10, and she weighed in at 8lb 2oz, only 1oz more than Asher.

They left around 10:00pm and it was glorious to sit in bed and cuddle baby girl. We were super tired. We had a good first night with a couple feedings and the next day it was like vacation. Just us and our little baby, watching movies and eating yummy bbq the neighbor brought. I always love that first little 24 hours! David played a super sweet song for me he had been saving. I cried... like a baby :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7gjwS13smI

My friend Melanie had relieved Kim of the kids midday and took them to chickfila for dinner and brought them home. I loved their expressions!!! The girls were in shock. So excited!!! So in love! They were just 2 and 4 when Asher was born so this time was so different. They wanted to hold her, to cuddle her. Gabrielle said "I just can't believe this!" and she teared up a bit. We talked about how amazing it was that God created her - knit her - in my womb. Only God can do that. I saw on her face the awe of His power to create such a little life. McKayla just wanted to cuddle her and had a look of shock.... "oh. my. gosh!" she kept saying! haha. Asher came in and was like "whatevs." Then went to play trains. lol! Love it. Later he was crying when we were taking pics... I think he was just exhausted and not sure what was going on!?

Now here we were! A family of 6. Dave was home the next few days, thank God. It was an adjustment and a lot going on and very little sleep. He went back to work on Monday. My friend Julie came and got the girls around lunchtime to spend the night. My mom got here the next night and the girls came back. I was starting to feel like zombie mom at this point and my mom was a huge help. We worked to get a routine established back, because the kids really need that and do best with structure. Everyone's attitudes were quite interesting to say the least! We had to get a plan. Dave and I went out to grab a burger and figure out a schedule. I felt like suddenly we were the Van Trap family and needed a whistle and marching orders to keep things running smoothly! GOSH. I would much rather fly by the seat of my pants and be carefree, but with 4 kids we need at least a general agenda! They are all such different ages and stages and have different needs.

The last week and a half has been really great. Finally getting more sleep, school back in full swing and I feel so good. It's so nice to move around the house without the huge boulder belly! I've lost all but 9lbs and can fit into most of my clothes. This has never happened so quickly, but in case you wanna hate on me, let me tell you it does not come natural! I worked so so hard at it. After some nightmare post-pardum bodies (one of which took a year and a half to regain!), maybe after the 4th I finally figured a few things out!? haha. I started back some strength training last week and it feels so good.

Hormonally I feel I am doing so great. The pregnancy hormone demon has left me and I am crazy hopeful and happy and calm! Gabrielle has practically told me every day "mom, I've really noticed a change in you." I keep thinking "was I that bad!?" Yikes, apparently so! I feel amazing. I have my moments, but just glory in the fact that Eisley is on the outside and I'm not pregnant anymore.

I'm not pregnant anymore.

And all the people said amen! Thank you Jesus. For the journey, for your mercy, for the crazy love and good gifts you daily lavish on us.

Our prayer is that sweet little Eisley Aviana grows up to be a true living picture of "bright freedom." A bright glowing ray of hope to all who meet her, that freedom in Jesus is liberating, joyful, and creates a life lived to its fullest. May she be full of passion and zeal and not become entangled in the yoke of bondage that legalism, self-righteousness, bondage, and comparison bring. May Galatians 5:1 be true of you, sweet girl...

"Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free."

I am crazy blessed. And sleepy. And happy.