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.

Get Angry

This thought has been on my mind all week. Anger. The I've-HAD-it-sick-and-tired-of-being-sick-and-tired kind of anger. Not the depressing kind that makes you eat a whole bowl of chocolate chunk ice cream while simultaneously crying, watching the Bachelorette, and texting all your bff's. But the kind that motivates you. Moves you. Fuels you.

I've heard it said that if you don't truly hurt, you don't truly love. I believe the same is true in anger. If you don't truly get mad about something, you don't truly care. It seems those that live "que sera sera" lives really don't end up doing much. They let a lot of boats pass by the harbor and never jump on board. Not to say that mindset is entirely wrong, but I believe it is incomplete. To live passively is not to really live at all. It means you have stuffed something and let that inner child die.

We all have dreams, passions, and gifts. We are born driven. Even more laid-back types have interests and passions (although they may not jump around like a raving loon about it like I would). Yet I think as life carries on we get burdened and weighed down with its hardships, trials, preoccupations and perceived necessities. Yet if you were to go back - to "channel your inner child", what would he or she say? Who are you at your core? While all our fantasies and fairy tales may not be achievable, I believe we all have some things that are. Some goals worth reaching, paths worth following, dreams worth pursuing.

This is my last year in my 20's. Perhaps I'm having my mid-life crisis early. Which actually, would make sense because most people married for almost a decade and that have 4 kids would probably be hitting it about now... I just did it all crazy early. But all that to say, these 20's have been packed out - chock full of necessity. Good stuff, but to be really raw here, super crazy hard adult-y (new word) kind of stuff. Trials and life situations thrown at us I never imagined. Today as pure insanity ensued with 3 children all wildly taking their own spin on "a day without naps", I looked up from my life and thought wow. This is nuts. And it's about to get nuttier. It's fantastic and wonderful and I wouldn't trade the chaos and insanity for all the nursing home silence in the world (most days). Yet I do know this: Suzanne is coming out. My passions and dreams are rising to the surface. I'm letting them. Some involve my husband and children. Some involve my faith. Some involve my personal passions and dreams. Some involve helping others. They are good things. Things that need to breathe and come alive.It may be baby steps at first, but I am taking them. As I talk them over with the Lord and ponder them, I know I'm on the right path. I sense an excitement and a freedom and zeal for life that I need. I want my children to see, to know, Mom was alive. She was who she was created to be. I want them to be adventuresome, risk takers, to never settle, to dream, to hope, to plan, to pursue... therefore I have to be that.

Yet sitting on your daybed with a journal and quill pen, jotting about your daydreams will not get you there. It's not till you get angry - mad - about some things that you will take action. Maybe you are mad that someone killed your dreams and squashed your passion. Maybe you are angry because you have let fear and insecurity creep in and steal your hope. Maybe you are mad because you have not been true to God's calling and His voice and have shut it out. Perhaps you are mad because you have let time, and excuses, and unfair circumstances and life's crap storms choke out the pursuit of what you know you need to be doing. Maybe you're just plain mad.

Ya gotta be sick and tired of being sick and tired. I call this the Biggest Looser mindset, sick of the stretchy pants with the elastic waistband. You're just fed up of your own special department to shop in, with clothing sizes that have X's in front of it, and the beads of sweat that form between your fat rolls, and the "black is slimming" motto. SICK AND TIRED. So you let that fuel you. Motivate you. You take charge of your life and decide that if you fall down a million times, you will keep getting up and keep fighting. You will press on. You will succeed.

I have lived long enough to know that resistance and obstacles will come. People will get in your way, life will throw you curve balls, and crazy ridiculous JUNK out of nowhere will dump in your front yard. (I will write a book about this one day. But you won't see it coming.) I'm not saying "dream a dream and hop the back of a unicorn and you will fly to the motherland of destiny!" Lord knows if that was the case we would all have found our pot at the end of the rainbow a long time ago. And as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure some dreams and passions mold along the way. That's ok too. The fact is that you did it. You went for it. You didn't give up. And you're glad you didn't, bumps and all. Whether it succeeds or flops, you gave it your all.

So I'm curious... what are you mad about? Be angry and sin not. You can be angry and not creepy. Please tell me you are angry. If not, dig a little deeper. Look inside. Look around you. Find something to get angry about. Because I dare say if you're not mad, you're not really breathing. Get mad enough to make a change, set some goals, help, give, do, be.

It will make you pretty darn happy.

Free

I cannot get this word out of my head. Free. It's like the word God has given me for this year. Which seems strange, because it is probably one of the most challenging and "boxed-in" years of my life. Not all bad. Just a lot of sitting, waiting, enduring. You might possibly have guessed it by now, but sitting is not my strong point...

Being a parent to 3 littles is a lot. If you want to do it right (whatever "right" is). I'm pretty sure even the best of parents will be begging forgiveness all throughout their children's lives. So by "right" I mean involved. Not farming out the majority of our parenting responsibilities and privileges to everyone but us. Not being constantly engrossed in my world, my to-do list, my priorities... but delving into them. I'm a firm believer in kids respecting and having other teachers and authority figures in their lives,as well as good times of separation and independence. But let's face it - kids don't raise themselves. Or they shouldn't. It takes so much active thought, preparation, and intentionality. It's wonderful. It's nearly all-consuming. It's exhausting. It's the best thing ever. I once heard someone say, "Life without kids is easier. Life with kids is better." Ditto that.

Growing a baby is a lot. For me, it's not an easy journey. I know many women have it harder than I do, so I will not even pretend to have the corner of the market on pregnancy challenges. I am young, I am healthy, and my body makes babies like a champ. However it is grueling for me - 3-4 months of intense nausea, the hormonal insanity (yes, I mean every bit of that word, ask my husband) and a whole host of physical changes and ailments of which I will spare you. Some women glow and adore being pregnant. I lock down and zone in and gut through it like a spartan. Don't be shocked at my lack of sentimentality... it's just not my thing. Yes, feeling the baby move, knowing it is being knit inside my womb is an incredible thing. But the 9 months of wanting to crawl out of my skin!? It is par for the course. And when that little face arrives, I glory. Because at last, there is the precious bundle! And there is the end of the journey up the mountainous region of rocks and serpents and forest fires and werewolves and... well, you get the picture.

Homeschooling is a lot. Now we are not the people that view it as our religion or our children's salvation. We take it one year at a time, one child at a time. I am not a natural-born teacher. Nor do I love it. But as we sit down and write out our family priorities and our goals and consider our children's needs and gifts, thus far it has been the best choice. We do not judge those who do nor do we eliminate the future possibility of our children being in school. Yet for now, it's where we are. It's got glorious perks, and yet, it has some real intense challenges. Trying to help one child figure out how to carry the 1 to the 10's place and another how to sequence correctly and another climbing all over the table and me and the school papers and the supplies like a monkey, with cars and trucks flying every which a way is a recipe for pure insanity. And some days it has baked up quite nicely.

Owning our own business is tough. House hunting in the Franklin market is tough. Not having family nearby is tough. Living in 1100sq feet is tough. Life is just plain tough.

And yet we breathe a sigh of relief because grace is there. For the weary, the overwhelmed, and the tough situations and callings of life. I am not here to complain, but to highlight why the word free is so shocking and so timely for me.

This is the year of the Lord just really undoing me. It's like He's preforming open heart surgery to reveal what is truly inside. What is clogging the flow of the precious freedom of His blood. I'm shocked at what is inside. And yet that just reveals more of my yucky pride.... to think that I was better than this in the first place.

It all began earlier in the year with reading "Grace for the Good Girl." Having grown up in such an amazing christian home and social environment, and coming to know Jesus at an early age, I honestly lived a "clean" and "good" life. Yet throughout the years I began to depend more and more on my goodness and obedience and less on Jesus. My undoing began when I realized how hard I tried and how little I tapped into the power and freedom of Jesus Christ.

It wrecked me. Wonderfully!

Since then that journey has just continued on. The Lord digging deeper, purging further, and revealing Himself more. It's hard and gruesome yet so kind and merciful. I have found myself crying my eyes out in agony yet rejoicing that He isn't leaving me to myself. He is in the business of changing. And He's changing me!

Lately I've realized the lie I'm believing: the lie that somehow, I'm overlooked. And as I dig deeper I see it stems from a false belief system of entitlement and pride. That God owes me something for my obedience and faithfulness to Him. That I am in reality comparing my life to what I think I deserve, and He calls that foolish.

While it is so hard to watch my stability, strength, and endurance crumble, it is so freeing to see Jesus stand in it's place and fight for me.

"The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still." Ex. 14:14

"Your God has commanded your strength; Show Yourself strong, O God, who have acted on our behalf." Ps 68:28

It's all about Him being strong, Him fighting for me, Him acting on my behalf. Not me. Not my endurance or persistence or undying commitment. Makes me think of the promise in Phil 1:6 that "He who began a good work in you will perfect it..." He will perfect it. Not my acts of righteousness.

Therefore the Lord has told me to sit. To let go. To relinquish control. To be weak. To hold my hands out, open and willing.

The hardest.thing.in.the.world.for.me. If He told me to go fight a battle, I would be on the front lines. If he told me to take charge, I would have a plan of action and a chart to go with it. But when He tells me to sit, I'm like a 2 year old ADD kid in the time-out chair, bouncing up and down and biting my nails and flailing my arms wildly while singing the alphabet backwards in Spanish. It makes me go bazurk!!! It's like somebody is stepping on my dang air hose! To put it mildly. And yet.... He has made it so clear. Sit. Wait. Trust. Rest.

So....... freedom. How do you come into play?

"Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." 2 Cor 3:17

"Where you are, is where I'm free
Holiness is Christ in Me". - Matt Maher, "Lord I need you"

As Brandon Heath sings,

"you know the effort I have given
you know exactly what it cost..."

It's so crazy to think of all our "effort" as being part of the cost of Calvary. That our sin of commission, even in seemingly good things, stealing God's glory. That my attempt to be Rosie the Riveter is really just my attempt to play God.

I know that He makes us all different. Some of us are easy going, day-to-day living, simple, happy people. That's great. Some of us are type-A, energetic, high strung planner people. That's great too. I'm not mad at how God designed me and the gifts and strengths He's given me. But I just truly want it to be all about Jesus. Not all about Suzanne. And He is seeing to that ;)

So my word freedom comes into play when I realize that sitting in that "time-out chair" is really God's way of setting me free from my own bondage of doing. Of taking on more than He has equipped me to when I try to play God. Freedom in letting Him lead, letting Him be in charge, letting Him care for me. Freedom to rest, to take on a yoke that is easy and a burden that is light. Freedom to return to "faith as a child" and play, dance, laugh and sing in His glorious sunshine. Freedom from care and worry knowing He cares for me far more than the daintily dressed lilies of the field. Freedom from concern about provision, for after all we can trust Him for our daily bread. Freedom from exhausted effort and an invitation to growth and pruning and more growth as I abide in the vine I am eternally grafted into.

I never thought freedom was what I needed most. I've never been in prison or had a drug addiction  But I have been in bondage and am returning to the joy of my salvation.... just Jesus. Circumstances are not changing right now. Neither is Jesus. I live caught in between those to paradoxes and find I am cast upon the Rock of His security.

I am free to run
I am free to dance
I am free to live for you
Yes I am free
-Newsboys