On Foraging for truth

I've been mulling a few thoughts around for the last few weeks and needed to write them down for my own memory, but I also think many of you might need this reminder as well.

First a story. Because that it how it starts for me. Something I am doing, which is usually is connected to food in some way, growing, cooking or eating (this is a new realization for me, which just makes me smile to know that my Father speaks to me using something I love); that causes me think about something I am currently learning, worrying about, or life circumstances.

We have a community garden plot that is at a lovely little lake and trail. During the summer, we will go each morning to water and then walk around the trail. Our walk takes us to "Stumpy", Christopher's favorite tree stump. Yes. Tree stump. As we make our way to Stumpy, we pass bush after bush after bush of wild blackberries. So we started picking and eating them every time we were there. There are lots of other plants around that also had berries on them and I began to wonder if they were safe to eat as well.

So I bought a book about foraging in the PNW. I downloaded an app that will take a picture of the plant and then tell me what it is. I then research it at home to find out if it is safe to eat and what it is good for. And oh my goodness, there is so much out there. I've found Plantain which is good for bee stings and skin conditions; chickory which is used as a coffee replacement, rosehips which are high in vitamin C and used to make syrups and jellys; tansy which is good for fevers and GI issues; Oregon grape which is also good for GI issues. Ive also found Poisonberry among other harmful plants!

I've been eyeing the rosehips all summer long waiting for them to be ready to pick. Last week on our usual garden trip, I grabbed a bowl and told Christopher we were going to forage for some rosehips. They have turned red and I wanted to try to make some syrup with them. As I was picking them, I questioned myself over and over. These are the rosehips right? So I would look at the stem and the leaves. Yes, rosehips. You know those converstations you have with yourself, Yes No Yes No?! Yes, I was confident that these were actually rosehips. I spent all summer looking at them!

Because one thing Ive learned in foraging is that there are look alikes. There are counterfits. And alot of times those counterfits are poisonous. Poisonberry happens to look very similar to a rosehip. And there happened to be one about 10 feet from my rosehip bush. If you arent careful, If you dont know the details of what you are looking for, you might mistake it for something that looks and smells like the real thing. But I only learned the difference by studying the real thing! 

Ive been thinking about how Satan tempted Eve. He didnt lie to her. He just questioned what God told her. When Satan tempted Jesus in the desert, He used scripture to do it. He convinced Eve, who had no concept of sin or evil up until this point, to doubt who she already knew YHWH to be, by having her question if what she knew to be true was in fact true. Satan disguises himself as the angle of light! He crafty, knows scripture and knows how to tempt us.

We are a church full of people who don't know the truth. Or only know parts of it. We like the parts that make us feel good about ourselves. We avoid the parts that confront us with the truth of who we actually are, sinners in need of a Savior. And by not immersing ourself in the scriptures, we miss the truth of who YHWH truly is and we cant tell what is truth from what sounds like truth.

And there are so many things out there right now that are claiming to be right and true and we cant see that they are counterfits because we don't what the real thing is. And the only way to know what that is is by being in the word. Its memorizing it. Its reading it over and over. Its mediating on it. Its allowing the Holy Spirit to use the words that YHWH has ALREADY SPOKEN to us and allowing that to determine what we believe about our Creator. Because that is what is at the root of all of this. Not knowing who He truly is.

It is so easy to twist scripture to fit our agenda. And unless we know the word of God, Unless we know the heart of God, we mistake the things that sound mostly good and mostly right as the truth.

As we were on our walk today, I was thinking about all of this again and John 15 came to mind. "I am the vine, you are the branches, if you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit. Apart from me you can do nothing."  I had to look at the whole plant, leaves, stem all of it, to make sure I was picking the right thing.

There are alot of voices out there claiming to speak truth and we need discernment. “Discernment is knowing the difference between Right and almost right.”

Elsie Jeanne

I started writing out Elsie's birth story/family update when she two months old. She is now over 3 months old and I am attempting to finish. Wish me luck!

Three months.
How is that possible? Also how have I survived three months without sleeping?! So many times I have wanted to write out her birth story so I wont forget, but I just havent been able to. Mostly because of time, but also because I could almost cut and paste Christopher's story because they are so similar.
Before Elsie was born, we both wondered how Christopher would do with a new sister who required much of the attention he was used to getting. And while we all had our moments of adjusting to this new change, Christopher surprised us all with how great he did. He has been such a good big brother and loves to give Elsie kisses and hugs. I melt inside when he asks to hold her. This time around is flying by. I can't believe she is three months old. It has been hard. Much harder that I thought it would be. But seeing my two babies together is worth it. Sleep is needed. The dishes pile up. The floor is covered in toys. Going to the store with two kids is no longer fun. But both of my babies are growing up right in front of me. Most days I count down the minutes until Chet gets home for a bit of relief, but I get the joy of being home with them all day.
Christopher is speaking full sentences and is blowing us away with how smart he is. Elsie is his biggest fan and whenever he is in the room with her, he is all she looks at. Christopher has started to speak to her in grunts and she responds with the same.
And while I know all kids are different is it fun this time around to have a comparison of sorts and see things develop early on that have become part of who they are. Christopher was grabbing and holding things with his hands at about two months. And even now he is always "working" and using his hands. Elsie could care less still. Christopher wouldnt crack a smile until he was between 3-4 months old. Elsie has been throwing them out left and right for a couple months already. I cant wait to see how her personality develops. And I hope and pray that they will continue to love each other they way they do now.

And now for the real reason I am writing this:

My pregnancy was as smooth as could be. It felt much harder because I had a very active toddler to chase and carry up and down the stairs. For the first time, basically ever, I started an exercise class when I was about 20 weeks. I was desperate for a few moments to myself as well as some adult interaction. That class has turned into much more and I have no doubt it made it easier to keep up with C. I even managed to go up until the day before I went into labor.

A week before my due date, I woke up with extra strong and more frequent braxton hicks contractions. I called my mom and put her on alert as they werent scheduled to come up til the end of the week. They were my child care. Mom and Dad must have heard the panic in my voice and Dad flew up that day to be here when it was go time. Of course, she didnt make her entrance until the end of the week, but I was able to relax so much more knowing that C would be taken care of.
We went about our usual business that week, just with some extra contractions. I woke up on the 17th, my birthday, to some cramping. I told Chet it felt different. I called mom and dad and said "Maybe?" Chet went on to work but by 10am I knew they were real contractions and texted my midwife. Chet came on home, with my birthday cake, which came in handy. :)
Dad got to the house in the middle of the afternoon and the contractions were still about 8-10 minutes apart and I was able to do most things in between them. Around 6:00 pm they really started to get stronger and closer and I didnt do much else besides kneel next to the bed and sway.
By 8pm, they were really intense, around 6-7 minutes apart and I had to have Chet put pressure on my back. Midnight rolled around and still 6-7 minutes apart, but now I was starting to throw up. We were waiting until we got to about 5 minutes apart and by 1 am we still just werent getting there, but the intensity kept getting stronger and I continued to throw up. The same thing happened with Christopher so I was hopeful at least some progress was being made. I called my midwife and she said to go ahead and come on in. We got to the birthing center around 2 am and after a quick check of vitals I climbed in the tub. I really hoped I would be able to deliver her in the water, as I needed to get out with Christopher. I was in the tub for about an hour when I felt I needed to start pushing and I just couldn't get in a good position. I labored at home on the birthing ball and found that the most comfortable (as comfortable as one can be), so I asked them to bring me one and used that.
I watched a live homebirth a few weeks before and for the most part she labored and pushed in silence. How anyone can do that is beyond me. I was screaming and yelling and telling them to get this kid out of me. At one point they said, "We can see her head" and I asked, "Can you really see it or are you just telling me that to make me feel better?". They really could see her head. It was right around that time that my water finally broke and ten minutes later, after an hour of pushing, Elsie Jeanne made her debut at 3:54am on October 18th. She is a smart girl and didn't want to share her birthday with mama and held out until she got her own day.
They gave her to me and did their initial check on her until my placenta was about ready to come out. They left us to just be together for a bit. We had pretty much decided on her name, but spent that time discussing to be sure. Elsie started to nurse right away and has been a nursing champ ever since.
Our midwives came back in about 30 minutes later and had Chet cut the cord. They then took all of her measurements. She was a whopping 8 pounds 6.5 ounces and 20 inches tall with a head full of hair. A few weeks before my due date, I met with my alternate midwife and she told me I hadnt gained enough weight. If you know me, you know I dont shy away from food. So it really was stressful work to try to put on a few pounds, so when they told me her weight I had to laugh. And I made sure to add that .5 because I worked hard for that!

It was at this point that I really regretted not bringing some of my cake with me. 20 hours of contractions. 1 hour of pushing. Let me eat cake! 

It was my turn to get checked out and stitched up. They then left us alone to get some rest for a few hours. Which really meant, Chet and Elsie got to rest. As exhausted as I was, there was no sleeping for me. I was starving (still am) so they brought in a big breakfast for us.
We tried to rest for the rest of that day. Elsie continued to nurse well, which was a huge relief as I struggled early on nursing Christopher. More food was brought in. Mom and Dad brought Christopher over that afternoon and he was a bit unsure about his new sister but warmed up to her by the end of the visit.
We broke free that evening as I wanted to be home to put Christopher to bed. Those next few weeks (months) are a blur as we had little sleep and lots of visitors.

Our little Elsie Jeanne is a joy and we cant imagine life without her!

Family Update

I dont know how many times I have been in a particular situation and Ill say, “This reminds me of that FRIENDS episode where…” I remember when I was about 7-8 months pregnant with Christopher and I was having Braxton Hicks contractions and was quite uncomfortable and all I could think about was the episode where Rachel goes to the emergency room and later found out she was having Braxton Hicks and the doctors tells her its nothing to worry about, most people don't even feel them. And she replies, “No uterus, no opinion!” 

And while the majority of my Friends life references have nothing to do with pregnancy, for this episode with the Komos family, we will just go ahead and call it The One with Two Heart Beats. 

Do you remember that episode where Monica and Chandler find out that Erica, the birth mother, is actually about to deliver twins. 

Monica: Did anybody tell you?

Erica: I dont think so…although they did mention something about two heart beats. But I thought that was just mine and they baby’s. They kept saying both heart beats are really strong. And I thought, well that’s good because I’m having a baby."

Spoiler alert! We are having another baby!) Chet, Christopher and I are at our midwife appointment and it was at this appointment where we were going to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. I laid down on the bed and the student midwife pulls out the doppler and starts to listen for the baby. Within a few minutes she hears a faint sound so Marilyn, my midwife, helps her get the doppler in just right place to get a clearer sound. And there they are! Clear and strong. “You can hear both heartbeats.” In a matter of seconds, along with terror and shock, that episode began playing in my mind. I start laughing, mostly nervous laughter and I say. You mean MY heartbeat right?? That is my heartbeat and the baby’s heartbeat? RIGHT? Not two babies’ heartbeats. RIGHT?? 

Oh yes, your heartbeat. There is only one baby in there. We all laugh. My heartbeat slowly returned back to normal as they comment how they never thought about how they word that before. Clearly they have never seen that episode of Friends. 

So coming October 21, Christopher will be a big brother…to just ONE sibling! 

We are approaching the half way point in this pregnancy and even saying that sounds crazy. I had hoped to write more throughout this pregnancy. Last time we were busy selling a house, moving out of state, buying a house and moving again to even think about writing. And while we arent making any drastic life changes this time around, I am busy chasing a toddler and things like sitting down with the computer just means Christopher has the opportunity to get in my purse to find my wallet and pull out all of my credit cards and hide them under the wireless router. I do have to buy groceries today so before I end up in the check out line without any way to pay, I need to go find all that he has hidden.

We cant wait to meet our new little one!

Moroccan Chicken Sheet Pan Supper

One of the many things I am loving about Danielle Walkers new Eat What You Love Book is the quick, easy, sheet pan meals. When I first looked through the book this was one that I wanted to make right away. Actually let's be honest, I wanted to make the pop tarts and chocolate donuts right away, but there have been too many sweets in the house so dinner it is! Danielle has graciously allowed us to share a recipe as a sneak peek. There is still time to pre order and get the free lunch box and instapot chapters. 

Because making diner with a 1 year old hanging out in the kitchen and on my leg makes things a bit more difficult, plus I dont want to be stuck in the kitchen making dinner when Chet gets home, I try to prep as much as I can through out the day. And if you dont want to prep through out the day, this will only take 15-20 minutes to get ready all at once.

Christopher was happily eating a snack so I took a few minutes to peel then chop the butternut squash and set on a tray for later. To save even more time buy them pre chopped.

After he went down for a nap I pulled the spices and put them in a little bowl so I can just dump it on the chicken and veggies when needed. And lets be honest here, nap time is when I should be doing all the things I can't do while Christopher is awake. Not today. Mama wanted a nap too. And by nap I mean I caught up on This is Us. 

Paper coffee cups are super entertaining, so I let C go to town and play with that while I did some chopping. I waited until Chet got home to finish up putting it all together. But doing it this way meant I never spent more than 5 minutes at a time getting this ready to go in the oven. 

The final verdict: Delicious!! We will be making this again!

I would change the way I seasoned the chicken. I apparently dont have a bowl big enough to toss the spices with the chicken and most of the seasoning ended up on the bottom of the meat and I wanted it on the skin. Instead, I would make a paste with the oil and lemon juice and just rub it on the chicken. 

I also love a crispy skin and mine didnt crisp up too much so I might pull the veggies out and put the meat back under the broiler for a few minutes. 

Make this! You can thank me later. 

Moroccan Chicken Sheet Pan Supper
1 1/2 Cups Mixed dried fruit
2 TB dried parsley
Fine sea salt
1/2 tsp  ground cumin
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp sweet paprika
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp ground tumeric
1/4 tsp ground ginger
4 tb extra virgin olive oil
1 tb lemon juice
4 cloves garlic, crushed
6 chicken leg quarters (drumstick and thigh)
1 large yellow onion
1 medium butternut squash, peeled halved, seeded and cut into 2-inch cubes
freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup fresh mint leaves, for garnish
2 tb pomegranate seeds for garnish

Place the dried fruit into a bowl and add enough hot water to cover. Soak for 10 minutes to rehyrate the fruit. Drain water and cut fruites in half if they are large.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees

In a small bowl, combine the parsley, 1 tb salt, cumin, cinnamon, paprika, cayenne, tumeric, and ginger. In a large bowl, combine 2 tb of the oil, the lemon juice, 2 cloves garlic, and 2 tb of the oil, the lemon juice and 3 tb of the spice mixture. Add the chicken pieces and toss, rubbing the chicken to coat each piece well. Arrange the chicken pieces, skin side up, on one side of the large rimmed baking sheet.

Cut the onion into 1/2 to 3/4 inch wedges, leaving some of the core attached so the slices stay intact. IN the same bowl that held the chicken, toss together the butternut squash, onion, the remaining 2 cloves garlic, the remaining 2 tb oil and the remaining spice blend. Season with the salt and pepper and toss again. Arrange the vegetable mixtures in a single layer on the other side of the baking sheet.

Roast the chicken and vegetables for 20 minutes, then carefully sprinkle the rehydrated fruits around the baking sheet. Continue to roast until a thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the chicken leg registers 165 degrees and the butternut squash is tender about 25 minutes more.

Serve the chicken with the roasted vegetables and fruits. Sprinkle the mint leaves and pomegranate seeds over the top.

“Reprinted with permission from Danielle Walker’s Eat What You Love: Everyday Comfort Food You Crave by Danielle Walker, copyright © 2018. Published by Ten Speed Press, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC.”

One in a Million

Three years ago when I was in the darkest part of my flare up, I prayed for healing. I wanted the big miraculous healing. I wanted my disease gone.  I remember sitting at church and someone was sharing her story on how God healed her in that way. And I just got angry. Why not me? (hello, entitled much?) Wasn't I doing everything 'right'? (um, so what?). I still had surgery. I still had a long recovery. How dare God work beyond my understanding or not in my time or in the way I want.
And it took about a year to realize it, but my prayers were answered and healing came, just in a different way.
I believe God put it on my mind to find a different way to begin healing, outside of medicine. Medicine has its time and place but it currently wasn't working for me. Knowing He created our bodies and He created food to give our bodies what they need, has led me on an exciting journey the last few years and has brought more than just a physical healing.

Fast forward two years to this March, my new GI ordered a colonoscopy because he wanted to get a baseline for how active (or not active) my disease was, plus it had been 2.5 years since my surgery and it would be a good idea to make sure everything had healed correctly.
After the procedure he let me know that he found NO inflammation but there was a significant scar tissue. He had even used a pediatric scope and couldn't get it through the scar tissue. He wanted to follow up with a abdominal CT scan to see how extensive it was. That scan confirmed what he saw. I was at risk of having a bowel obstruction and potentially a perforation, which would end in emergency surgery. His recommendation was to have a colonoscopy with endoscopic dilation. There would be a balloon at the end of the scope and he would inflate it to open up the scar tissue. I was told this procedure carried the risk of the very things I was trying to prevent by having it in the first place.

I put it off for several months because I am still nursing Christopher and wanted him to be a bit older and there were more risks with this procedure. Since having Christopher, I've become more fearful in many ways. Plus Ive watched way too much Grey's Anatomy. So I had quite a bit of anxiety about this.

A few days before the procedure I was sitting at my favorite coffee shop alone (the first time since C was born) and started journaling about my fears for the upcoming week. There was no getting out of it, but I prayed that there wouldn't be any scar tissue, so no need for the balloon and added risks. That became my prayer each day.

Fast forward past the prep, the waiting to be wheeled back to the OR; past the confused anesthesiologist and the nurse who couldn't find a good vein to insert my IV.
After it was over, my doctor came to talk to Chet and I. He seemed both pleasantly surprised and also a bit confused.
He told us that once he got in there, he still didn't see any scar tissue and he could not find any significant amount of scar tissue. Insert huge grin on my face. I said, "I knew it. I prayed that there wouldn't be any scar tissue. I knew it."

Side Story:

I remember hearing a sermon on the passage in Acts where Peter is in prison. The church is praying for him to be released, earthquake happens, Peter escapes and shows up at the door of those praying for him. When they are told Peter is at the door they say "you are out of your mind". The part of the message that has always stuck with me is, isn't that exactly what they were praying for? Why are they surprised? Do we believe that God hears us and answers us?
I realized I often feel the need to make excuses for God when he doesnt answer my prayers. Who do I think He is and who do I think I am, that I need to make excuses for God? "If its your will" is my way to deal with my own unbelief.
The topic of prayer and healing I am sure stirs up a lot of feelings, thoughts and questions for some. But I have chosen to believe that God sees me, he hears me and he responds. And I wont be surprised when He shows up. And he will show up, it just may not always be the way I want. I just have to have the eyes to see it.

Back to the main story:

He explained that the bowels can move and twist and it may have appeared like scar tissue. I think he "forgot" that he actually saw it and the scan just confirmed what he saw.
He went on to say that typically someone with a disease as severe as mine was, this just doesn't really
 happen. Medicine is always needed. "But out of a million people I guess there has to be someone who doesn't have the disease return".

The smile never left my face. He said as long as nothing changes, I wont need another test for a few years. Of course he said to call him if symptoms begin to return. I, however, don't expect to do that any time soon!

Last week, the unexplainable happened. That which multiple tests confirmed was there, was no longer there. And really, its not unexplainable at all. I know exactly what happened.

Nothing and Everything

9 months. 

It’s one of those milestone moments for me. Like first tooth. First time sitting up. First time figuring out how to unroll the toilet paper (yep, that happened today). 

9 months ago I gave birth to my little boy. He has now been carried in my arms longer than in my womb. Actually, that will be true in 8 days. As he was 8 very long days late.

In the 9 months I was pregnant with Christopher, we decided to move to Oregon. Chet found a new job. We sold our house. Moved to Oregon. Bought a house (moved again). I lost a job. All the while growing this human. 

In the 9 months since I gave birth to Christopher, Ive changed countless diapers, nursed him countless times, made funny noises, danced like a lunatic and ate lots of baby toes. I kept a human alive and fed and clothed and clean and happy. That’s it!

“Our culture doesn't have a good way to measure what you are accomplishing.Your baby will grow and meet milestones: check.

To the untrained eye, most of this work, at the end of the day, will look like nothing.

But we know better.

There is no greater task than the “nothing" you did yesterday, the “nothing" you are doing today and the “nothing" you will do tomorrow.

Caring for a baby is all about the immediate experience, yet the first two years are all about investment.

It's give, give, give and give some more.

These are hard-fought, rough-and-tumble years that can cut us down to our core and take us soaring high above the clouds, all in the space of five minutes.

And yes, as you do the hardest work of your life, it will seem like you're not getting anything done at all.”

Happy 9 months my boy. I love you to the moon and back. 

https://www.mother.ly/life/what-do-new-mothers-do-all-day

Christopher Everett

One month ago (yesterday)..., Christopher was placed in my arms for the first time.

I’ve wanted to write out Christopher’s birth story for, well, a month now, but a crying baby and the need to really process that event has prevented me from doing so.

The weeks leading up to his birth, I thought a lot about the birth of Christ and what it must have been like for Mary. 

Was she already having contractions while riding in on the donkey? What must it have been like to know know where you would give birth, only to find out it would be next to a bunch of animals and their poop. No birthing tub full of warm water, no yoga ball, no soft bed. I imagine it wasn't a silent night— not as she moaned and screamed along with the noise the animals were making along side her. All was not calm in my mind. 

But there she still was, birthing the Savior of the world in the most unexpected of places. 

This, being a mother, having Christopher, is something Ive longed and prayed for, for so long. 

This child, my son, is an answer to so many prayers. 

This experience of growing a child in my womb and birthing him was a miracle when you think about the fact that I really did nothing. I didn't tell my body how to nourish him or how to grow an arm or a brain. God designed my body to just do that. I didn't tell my body to start the contractions. Good thing too, because I am sure I would have told them to stop and not start again! And while I did push, it was because my body was telling me you must push now. God knew what he was doing when he created my body and it really is quite amazing as I think about it all.

And on the flip side, I think Satan knows exactly what he is doing as well. The guilt and fear and lies have been and are in full force. I think he knows that exhausted mothers are easy prey. And it has taken me four weeks to get past the shame I felt (and to a degree still feel) that my birth experience didn't go how I wanted (when does anything go how we want?!), because I didn't feel like I was a strong as I wanted to be. I didn't handle the pain as well as I wanted to. But I am now telling those voices and thoughts to shut it. I had a natural, unmedicated birth, after 30 hours of back labor and I am proud of that. 

My due date was November 9. At the beginning of the year when I realized that the 9th was the day  last year, the doctor told us we were loosing our baby, it felt like a promise from God that he is bringing healing out that moment. Knowing the chance of delivering on my actual due date was slim, I still kept hoping he would come that day. But with each day that passes, I got more and more and anxious. Then November 14th came—the day we actually miscarried—there was still no sign of Christopher. The physical and emotional pain of that day last year played over in my head and continued to play into the days that followed.  

I read this the day after he was born online and it felt so fitting. “ It comes in waves. The disbelief and wonder that she is here and we made it. The sadness and grief. The joy and peace. I don't run way from them any more, I let these waves come. This is nourishing for me, healing.

Last year, right around the time of her birth, I was miscarrying…again. There’s a weird conflict knowing that if I hadn't miscarried then, she wouldn’t, our rainbow baby, wouldn't be.

There is an odd comfort in that. A bittersweetness that cant be avoided. And that nourishes my heart a little. A heart that holds both the bitter and the sweet.”

Even though I was still well in the ‘normal’ range, fear took over and I worried he would never come and would need a medical intervention. I tried everything—special tea, walking, taking stairs two at a time, spicy food, and I even went and tried accupuncture. Still nothing.

Birth Story begins here—stop reading if you don't want to hear about placentas, mucous plugs and the like.  Plus its long…30 hours worth of a labor story!

My contractions began about 7pm on November 15th. Chet and I were sitting on the couch watching one of our shows when the first contraction came. I pulled out my phone and opened the app I had downloaded to count them. I didn't even tell Chet until I had had a few, for fear that it would be a false alarm. It wasn’t.  

We went up to bed, knowing that once we told our midwife, she would tell us to get some rest. I sent her a text about 9pm when my contractions were consistantly about 10 minutes apart and sure enough, rest was what she said. 

The contractions continued to increase in frequency and intensity. I soon realized I was having all back labor, so laying down was no longer an option as that just made them hurt more. Chet tried to get some sleep and I took a bath. I sent our midwife another text about 1am letting her know we were now about 5 minutes apart. I could no longer stand during each contraction and I would just pound on the bed until Chet came over to put counter pressure on my back. We thought we would be heading into the birthing center that night. We were waiting for that magic 4 minutes apart that would let us know it was time to go we were almost there. 

However, the contractions became 6 minutes apart, then 10, then 15. Exhausted, because I never got more than a 15 minute break, and because the pain was in one spot on my back, we realized we wouldn't be having a baby that night. 

The rest of the night and more of the next day was the same, erratic contractions. I called my midwife around noon, in tears, because I thought labor had stopped. I was still having minute long, strong contractions, to the point where I would vomit almost each time. Again, she said, rest, and to eat a meal. To which I laughed, then cried at the rest part, then immediately threw up what I ate. 

Around mid to late afternoon, they started to become more consistent again. Hovering around the 5-6 minute mark. I sat on the yoga ball, crying and moaning while Chet put pressure on my back. Our midwife checked in about every hour at that point and each time I prayed she would say come on in. Around 8pm, she called again, I made Chet answer the phone because I couldn't talk and she gave the go ahead. We grabbed our bags and trash can and jumped in the car.

It was raining and cold and the 30 second walk from the car to the front door was a bit much as I stood there shivering uncontrollably. Marilyn, our midwife, immediately turned on the shower and had me get into to warm up. After several minutes my body finally began to settle down a bit and she was able to do her initial vitals check on me and the baby. Laying down was next to impossible for those few minutes as the contractions were so strong and I kept vomiting. So as soon as she was done, I climbed in the giant tub. The warm water felt good as I still had the chills. She suggested that I have some IV fluids as she could tell I was quite dehydrated. Two bags later and I felt much better…as better as one can when in labor. I continued to labor in the tub for a while and I finally lost the mucous plug. I was amused at how excited everyone, including me, was. 

Once the fluids finished, I was visibly feeling better, so she said she would go ahead and do an exam and see how dilated I was. When she told me I was about 8.5 centimeters I started crying. I feared she would tell me I was only 3 cm. I was already so exhausted, having not slept at all the night before and we were already half way through this night where I knew I wouldn't be sleeping. I was so relived so much progress had already been made. I would dose off in the few minutes between contractions and I remember freaking out and telling Chet I thought I stopped breathing each time I did that. And each time he assured me I was still breathing. It was at this point that I told Chet we wouldn't be having any more children.

I wouldn't have been able to do anything without Chet. Beside the fact that he was constantly holding me, letting me dig my nails into his arms, telling me I could do is and encouraging me, he was quite literally reminding me to breath. 

With each contraction I yelled. Then the yelling turned into screaming. All I kept saying its a good thing we were the only ones there. I was still in the tub in the middle of a contraction and I yelled my water just broke.

Time became a blur and even when I would ask the time, they wouldn't tell me. It’s probably a good thing they didn’t! Soon it felt like I needed to begin pushing. I tried for a while in the tub, but the positioning just didn't work for me, so they had me move to the toilet. Yes, the toilet because your body has been training to push when you sit down!

Chet continued to press on my back as I had each contraction. And with each contraction I would push. They assured me I was making progress as I felt like nothing was happening. After pushing for a while on the toilet, they could tell I needed to change positions again and moved me to the bed where I held onto a yoga ball and continued to push. Over and over I continued to say I cant do this any more. And all I wanted was to just stop and go home. Turns out they wouldn't let me go home as they could now see his head. 

After what seemed like an eternity of pushing, pain like I have never experienced (and I have had more than my fair share of pain over the years) and the ring of fire that seemed to last for days, Christopher Everett was born at 2:19 am on November 17th. 

The first few seconds I just laid on the yoga ball, crying, gasping for air and trying to talk, saying “I cant talk, my voice is gone”. I finally rolled over and they handed me our 7 lb 14 oz son. 

Relief was all I felt for a while. The pain was gone...mostly, the pushing was done, and our son was here, safe and sound. After doing the initial check, to make sure he was ok, they left us alone for a few minutes. So there we laid, me covered in sweat, Chet supporting me from behind, and Christopher, still attached to his umbilical cord. Our new little family. Overwhelmed with gratitude and 'oh my gosh we have to take care of this human'. 

Our midwives came back in and my placenta was now ready to come out. They bagged it up, still attached to Christopher, and waited until it stopped pulsing to cut the cord. They checked me out and saw I needed some stitches. After they took care of me, they gave Chet the scissors and he cut the cord.

They asked if we wanted to see the placenta and of course I did (I did decline having them encapsulate it for me, don't worry!). So we watched as they checked it out and made sure everything looked good. They showed me this thing that kept my son alive for 9 months. This amazing thing that nourished, protected, and kept him safe. 

We were left to rest for the rest of the night. And even after being up for close to 48 hrs now, I couldn't sleep. Chet on the other hand has the gift of falling asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow. So there we laid, Chet and Christopher asleep in my arms as I tried to begin to process through all that just happened. 

A post partum midwife came in and helped with nursing and also brought us some breakfast. We eventually showered then crawled back into bed before we could go home around 7 that night.

We were at one of our follow up appointments this last week and they went through the notes they took. They mentioned how quickly my labor went. I laughed and said if 30 hours is quick I dont know want to know what is considered long.

Apparently the first 22 hours wasn't considered “active” labor, but prodomal labor. I don’t care what she says, I was actively laboring those 22 hours. And what felt like the longest part, pushing, was in reality only an hour. 

One month in we are exhausted. That month has had its fair share of rough moments. We both have spent much time in tears. He slept for 4 hours straight last night and I am excited! This whole parenting gig is so much harder than I ever imagined, but its worth it. I am torn between wanting to get past this sleepless night stage and soaking in every moment I get to rock him to sleep.