Pregnancy Journal, 28 Weeks

One of the reasons I started blogging was because since I was a little girl, I've always journaled.  I LOVE journaling and was able to keep it going through Kian's pregnancy.  But once he was born, my journaling time melted away.  My duties as a Mama grew with a third baby, and I had a hard time finding time to sit and journal.  Then I discovered blogging, and the switch from journaling to blogging was made.  I think this is why I love blogging so much.  This IS my journal.  This is where I can record our lives.  And I can find the time to blog because I can type fast, thanks to a typing class in 9th grade.  :)  And so, here we are.
It has dawned on me a few times that I haven't recorded much on the blog about this pregnancy.  I would think, "do people really want to read that?"  But then I realized *I* want to read it.  This poor babe will already be the first to not have a log of its pregnancy written in Mama's own hand, and I certainly do not want him or her to have NO record.  So, today I'll try to catch up on my first two thirds of this pregnancy, and after today, I'll update some here and there.  From experience, I know these are magical days and once baby is here, many memories will fade away.  Already, I find myself saying, "I experienced that with one of my pregnancies.  Which one was it?" and then I have to go back in my journal to sort it out.  Sometimes they all bleed together.  So here's a little record of the first 28 weeks of this pregnancy.

* I found out I was pregnant on February 2nd, 2012.  For some reason, I suspected I was pregnant, and so I took the test early.  It looked negative so I placed the test on the window sill and went to wash my hands.  When I came back I was surprised to see it was NOT negative!  A slight pink line was appearing and getting darker with time!  How fun it was to go from content with God's plan even though I wasn't pregnant, to realizing I actually WAS pregnant.

* This has been my easiest pregnancy, hands down.  At 5 weeks, when the 24/7 sickness hit, I was ready.  I felt myself hunkering down for the long haul.  But then after week 7, the fog lifted a bit.  I was shocked.  I'm usually sick the majority of the first trimester and with Felicity, I was miserably sick all day long for at least 17 weeks.  Don't get me wrong, I still had hard days with this one, sometimes the sickness stayed for 48 hours.  And it always was underlying in the first trimester.  But it didn't rule the first 3 months of the pregnancy and for that, I'm very thankful.

* We will be seeing more of this baby than any of our other babes, in utero.  The umbilical cord only has 2 vessels, instead of the normal 3.  This should not be a problem at all, but the Drs. like to take a peek in at babes with 2 vessel cords throughout the pregnancy just to make sure the baby is not growth restricted.  At my 27 week ultrasound, baby was already 2 lbs 6 oz and right on track to being an 8 1/2 pounder like its siblings.  If my next ultrasound at 32 weeks shows equally beautiful growth, it'll be my last.  Baby is chunking up and we could even see its chubby cheeks on the ultrasound.  :)

* Also at my 20 week ultrasound, baby had a cyst on its brain.  The Dr. said that kind of cyst is seen a lot in utero and is usually gone by birth.  We were not worried at all, but thrilled when just 7 weeks later, at my 27 week ultrasound, the cyst was already gone.

* Up until 4 weeks ago, this babe was pretty chill.  I felt the baby kick pretty early on.  15 weeks I believe.  But up until 4 weeks ago, the kicks and movements were very soft and not hugely frequent.  It seems as if baby has grown muscles lately because I'm getting a LOT more movement, which I love love love!

* I normally have braxton hicks regularly and early, but with this pregnancy, they started rolling at 17 weeks.  And by rolling, I mean too many per hour for the midwives.  So I'd have to stop and lay down and chug water until they went away.  Now, at 28 weeks, I definitely get them, but not as dramatically as earlier on.  They're more of the normal ones now, which tend to come on after I'm on my feet a lot, but they don't get out of control.

* I have craved one thing and one thing alone since week 5.  Lemons!  That's it!  In the first tri, I'd often just eat a full lemon as if it were an orange.  I know that's horrible for your teeth but it really did help calm my stomach.  Now, I drink lemon water.  Preferably a full lemon in a glass of mineral water.  I've never had such a strong pregnancy craving.  I've woken up and lemon water is the first thing on my mind.  No joke.  But its a very helpful pregnancy craving.  It sure is keeping me hydrated!

* My weight gain to date is 8 pounds (sorry if that's weird to post, but I want it recorded for my personal record somewhere).

I think that brings me up to speed.  On to the fun part.  Here's a few pictures to document this sweet babe's pregnancy so far.

Pregnancy confirmation ultrasound

9ish weeks along

I could see baby's heart flickering and its little limbs wiggling away!

13 Weeks

16 Weeks

 20 weeks

Can you see its little hand near its face?  That's how its been in every ultrasound.  Hands up on its face.  So sweet!

 27 weeks

It was hard to get a good picture of baby this time because s/he was head down and face down.  But here's its face looking straight at you.  I hope baby stays in that position!

28 weeks

Third trimester and I've REALLY popped lately!!!

Reflecting On Thankfulness

Many of you "know" me as a mom.  A homeschooling mom, an urban homesteading wanna-be mom, a sewing mom, a plastic hating mom, a simple mom, a blogging mom.
But what you may not know is that there is another mom part of me.  A struggling mom.  I started this blog shortly after my family entered our darkest days.  The blog allowed me an outlet to focus on the joys amidst that darkness.  I didn't blog about that darkness b/c it was not mine alone.  It involved others.  But now, nearly two years later, I feel "allowed" to share this part of me with you. 

The first of our struggles started nearly two years ago when my dad, whom appeared devoted to family and church, was caught in an affair.  To make a long (painful) story short, he chose to not only abandon his marriage of 35 years to my sweet mom, but also abandon his children and grandchildren.  Previously he had worked with his daughters in the hardware store where he was employed.  He'd been the worship leader at our church where I sang along side him often, as did my brother-in-law.  After church on Sunday, it was common for most of the family to gather at his house for food and hanging out.  We all lived in the same town.  His grandchildren saw him multiple times a week.  One day, though, he decided he wanted to follow his own selfish desires more than love his family.  And he left.  My children went from seeing him multiple times a week to basically never.  He moved 2 hours away and rarely contacts us.

I could go into further detail about the struggles my extended family has suffered in the HUGE wakes of my father's disastrously selfish choices, but I think you can imagine.

Since then, my family has seemed to take one hit after the other.  I was diagnosed with Hypothyroidism.  My daughter was diagnosed with Hypotonia after a LONG and emotional process.  Pets dropped like flies, family members were diagnosed with infertility, we lost our sweet Nana, and I miscarried.....all while dealing with my dad's ongoing drama.  There's more, but for the sake of others' privacy, I'll leave it at that and figure you get the picture.

Another thing I haven't shared is that Zac has worked out of town since May of this year.  I am a single, homeschooling mom during the week.  I did not share this because I did not want to advertise, online, that there was a mom all alone out in the country by the lake (where there are no street lights and it takes 25 minutes for police to respond to calls) with three young, helpless children.  Now, however, I can mention this because the security I was trying to protect has been shattered.  This week I had cops shining spot lights in my yard and neighbors' yards at 11pm.  They were looking for a reported prowler!  I have struggled with fear since I was a child.  I thought I'd have a hard time when Zac left in May.  However, only by God's grace, I've done fantastically.  That is, until there were cops in my yard this week.  My brother-in-law and sister came and got my kids and I that night (so that I wouldn't have to load 3 sleeping kids, one by one, into our car in the middle of the night with a prowler lurking) and we've been at my mom's ever since.  We will go home when Zac is home on the weekends, but I think it will be a long time, if ever, that I will be ready to brave the night alone in our home.  The feeling of security I worked years to have, is now totally gone.

I also have not shared that due to Zac working out of town, we have had to grieve a lot of the miscarriage apart from each other.  Not only one miscarriage, but two.  Yes, I had another one, just a few weeks ago.  Hence why my blog has been a bit quiet lately.  That miscarriage was accompanied by lots of tests, an MRI, and a lot of fear.  After a few weeks, I was deemed healthy and normal, and my miscarriages were deemed "unexplained."  All of this is hard to process, and STILL my dad adds drama to our lives, and on top of that, Zac and I have had to learn how grieve "together", while not always together.

So WHAT does this all have to do with thankfulness? 

Well, last year's holiday season just plain sucked.  It was our first without my dad.  The lack of his presence and the hurt that came with it were deafening.  It didn't help that my mom had to put her dog down ON Christmas morning.  This year, we are determined to make the holidays better.  We are determined to heal from all this stuff.  And we are determined to plod along forward.  However, Thanksgiving was still very hard for me this year, and I started to feel I'd already failed the goal to make this holiday season better.  But then, God graciously showed me something.  My attitude sucked.  Yep, that's what He showed me.  I was and have been struggling with losing the "consistencies" in my life.  My consistently present father left.  My consistently healthy body turned on me.  My consistent feeling of what a normal childhood should look like changed when my daughter couldn't communicate.  I couldn't control life so that it was consistent for my children.  My consistent feeling of safety in my own home was shattered.  My consistent support of my VERY helpful husband is limited to weekends only.  And my once consistently healthy womb couldn't hold on to two babies.  Man, my attitude about losing these constants was really bad....IS really bad.  But this weekend, as I was sulking about what has changed and what has been lost and wondering what constant we will lose next, I realized that really, I should only have ONE constant in life...God.  Our world was thrown into the hands of sin at the fall of man.  Why should I expect anything earthly to be constant?  God is the only constant.  He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  I'm hoping I can just stay focused on that truth that I know so well, that I've always constantly felt, and just have tunnel vision on my Lord so that all the inconsistencies of the world will roll past me a bit easier in the future.  I do pray that my family's NEAR future will be a bit less tumultuous.  That sure would be nice.  But if I can just learn to only hold my faith in the ONE constant, I think the road ahead, either joyous or sorrowful, will be more fulfilling.  He is there in the joy, and He cries with me over my sorrows.  HE is constant.

Lord, THANK YOU for;

* holding us in your arms and carrying us forward when we ourselves can not take one more step.

* Your Word, which gives us direction when we are blinded by tears.

* the example of my mom who shows unhumanly amounts of mercy, grace, and patience.

* friends who have supported our family, validated our losses and struggles, been there to babysit with NO notice, and just listened.

* the promise that Your mercies are new every morning. 

* comfort in knowing our Nana is enjoying feasts of Thanksgiving at Your side.

* Your hope, when we have none.  Hope for babies in the future (through birth and adoption), hope for healing (physically, emotionally, and mentally), hope for comfort from fears one day, hope for knowledge and understanding.

* our angel babies, who have taught us love of an unearthly form, and whose short earthly presence in our lives blessed us in ways I can't yet explain in words, but am thankful for.

* medicine that helps my thyroid function correctly so that I can be present for my kids.

* my husband's job that allows me to be at home to raise our kids.

* the knowledge that my husband's long distance job will end this Summer and he will be back with us again.

* a safe place for my children and I to stay, even though I miss my home.

* a speech therapist who loves my daughter and is helping her grow by leaps and bounds!

* my husband, who has been able to comfort me even when hours away.

* our marriage, which feels ever more sacred these past few years.

* forgiving me when I put too much faith in our earthly "consistencies".

* and lastly, our amazing babes...our gifts from God....all 5 of them.

Rain

I told the kids all morning the rain was coming.  Watch for the rain.  Play outside while you can.  They did.  And waited.  As they sat down to lunch, I heard it coming.  I slipped away and stood in my doorway, watching neighbors hurry to get things out of the rain.  And then I walked barefoot into it.  Turned my face up to it.  The cold drops covered my face like tears, the wetness on my cheeks feeling so familiar.  I stand and just let it fall on me, all around me.  Watch the earth get blanketed in a curtain of it.  I hear the kids at the table, now aware of the rain.  They excitedly run about, yelling, looking for me.  But I stay where I am in the rain, almost unable to move.  Not wanting to move.  Feeling like God's touch is falling down all around me, on me.  My sweatshirt soaks through.  My feet start to burn with cold.  I hear the kids, nearly as a dream.  And then they're there.  "Mama!  I don't want my corn bread."  I snap back into reality.  I watch them grab "raining boots" and run into it.  I listen to their made up rain songs while they dance in it.  I watch my three blessings embrace the rain with the joy only children have, wishing they could hold on to that joy forever.  Wishing I knew how to find it for myself.  And so I join in.  We swing in the rain, a muddy 2 year old on my lap.  We run in it.  We dance in it.  We let it fall on us past the point of being soaked through.  Past the shivers.  Past the goose bumps.  We sing in it.  We laugh in it.  We stay in it until the drops get as big as marbles.  Until the earth is too slippery to run on anymore.  Until the cold and wet are finally too much.  The children request hot baths, and I run the water, even though its past nap time.  And as they soak up the warmth, I go behind them, picking up muddy clothes and wiping up dirty footprints, a mess I'd usually be upset about.  And I smile, letting go, knowing the memories that this mess created.  A mess so easily cleaned up in exchange for a lifetime memory, on a day when it was very needed.  God is gracious, and I am so blessed!

Thank You

I purposely didn't blog for a few days as I just took some time to step back, to think, and to leave my camera behind.  Yes, I could have taken pics when Lissy helped me harvest our sunflower seeds....meticulously.  :)  And yes, I could have shared with you pics of our FULL day out on the coast, just the five of us, soaking up sun, play, books, good food, and much needed family time.  And yes, I could share with you Kian's baby doll I'm racing to finish by his SECOND birthday this week.  But instead, I decided to just forget it.  I left the camera behind and just soaked up the weekend.

I also did a lot of thinking.  First of all, thank you to ALL of you who replied to my two "frustrated with homeschooling" posts.  The outpouring of love and support was so surprising and uplifting.  I won't go into much detail, but I will tell you two things I realized.  One, I attended public school from preschool through college.  Then, in college, I was trained to TEACH public school.  Though I always hated all the testing, bookwork, and standards while I was credentialing, its all I know.  I have known NO different.  I was a student of this method, and a teacher.  We always knew we wanted to homeschool and I knew all those things I hated would not be a part of our day, but it is all so ingrained, I have a hard time stepping back and knowing how to do it differently.  So, I plan to read some books on unschooling and other methods (suggestions?), and find some inner courage to throw the "system" aside.  Two, I need to deal with a few discipline issues with Logan.  I love him.  I love who he is.  I don't want to wish that he was more bookish, making homeschool easier.  I love that he is such a free spirit.  He is more naive than his peers because he is so free and happy.  And I love that about him.  Yes, that makes accomplishing NEAT work a bit more of a task.  I need to hover a lot.  But I need to realize that comes with his free nature and I definitely don't want that to change.  I need to teach him to take pride in doing neat work, but I also need to step back and let his free spirit just go, or I'll stifle it.

So, that's what I've learned, through your wonderful support and through a lot of thinking this weekend.  On Friday we put the books aside and welcomed in Fall by starting to do lessons revolving around Fall.  Just simple stuff I found online and fun activities.  Felicity and Logan were thrilled and kept talking about all the changes Fall brings.  Then that night out to dinner, Logan started pumping out written letters all over his coloring place mat.  I nearly cried.  The letters we fought over last week came flooding out under the more relaxed turn we took on Friday.  So, there in the restaurant, we unschooled and challenged he and Lissy with more letters to write. 

I think we will find our way.

Now to see if I can return those textbooks.  :)

By the way, my wonderful friend Kim did an interview with me on her blog today.  I thought I'd have a wonderful "WELCOME FALL" post for her blog readers to see when they came over from her blog.  Alas, this is life right now, and my blog is all about our lives.  So, Simply Blythe readers, sorry you caught me in a bit of a struggle, but welcome, and I hope I don't scare you off.  :)

Reflections On Felicity (warning, long)

I just wanted to take a personal moment and reflect on my daughter's life, as she turns four.

Felicity is my hardest child to explain. She is so complex. She is sassy, but needy. She is feisty, but sensitive. She is so smart, but often so silent. She is wonderful!

Felicity was the only child we had trouble conceiving. It took 7 long months. Then, on Christmas day, I woke up early, took a pregnancy test, and got the positive reading I'd so wanted. Best Christmas present ever!

Felicity's was my hardest pregnancy. I was sick constantly for the first 17 weeks. I couldn't eat and lost a lot of weight. Once I started to feel better, I still had lots of bad days. It was sheer survival and looking back, I really should have asked for help. But at the time, I just thought her difficult pregnancy was God teaching me how to multi task and be a mother to two. It took all I had to get up, and change Logan's diaper. Then I'd grab him a sippy of milk and a sleeve of fig newtons for him to eat for breakfast, and take him back to bed with me. I'd put a movie on for him and lay down with my arm over his legs so that if he got up, I'd know. That took all of me. Needless to say, the days were long. By the time the sickness fully went away, the physical pains started, and there were many. She moved in me so frantically that I shared my fears with my midwife of her tying herself up in her cord. Of course, there's nothing you can do about that. She rocked and rolled in there so much that it HURT! Did you know a baby can kick you in your sternum? Lissy did. And it hurts! I'd be sitting in Bible study with my belly jiggling all over with her movements and my friend would just stare in disbelief.

Her due date came and went. My only late baby. Labor finally started on Labor day night, only after being admitted to the hospital because the placenta was tearing away from the wall of my uterus. We were happy labor started on its own as pitocin had been suggested. But as soon as the first contraction hit, Lissy's heart rate plummeted. Nurses flooded the room and hooked me up to all sorts of things and moved me this way and that. Lissy's heart rate still plummeted. The Dr. was trying to get me to agree to a C section when I felt her crowning. He got my midwife but told me he was going to use the vacuum on her to get her out a.s.a.p. I don't think so. I saw him setting it up and I pushed with and without my contractions. Out came Felicity, sunny side up, wrapped in her cord twice.... and I didn't even see her. They took her to the little table and started pumping her full of the oxygen she'd been deprived of. She was bone white as her body had been trying to keep as much blood as possible to her heart and not her legs and arms. But she pinked up quick and was in my arms not too long after. She was BEAUTIFUL!

Felicity was our only fussy baby. Borderline colicky. I felt I spent most days walking around with a crying babe in my arms or sling. For the first 7 months of her life, she cried a lot. I had a hard time bonding with her. I SOOOOO wanted to, but the stress of not being able to take away whatever it was that was making her cry so much, made bonding take a back seat. I remember others trying to take her and walk her, and still she'd cry. I remember aching. I needed the break, but I also needed to console her, even though I couldn't. I still wanted her in my arms. She had a hard time nursing, though not hard enough to give up. She just nursed A LOT, in short increments. She cried to nurse, cried while nursing, and cried after nursing. Felicity cried.

At 7 months, we felt like God reached down and handed us a more content baby overnight. She became happy and cried less. She and I finally were able to fully bond and it was a tight bond. A kind of "we did it! We overcame!" bond. From 7 to 24 months, she was the most amazing little angel. I cried when I weaned her and still regret not letting her wean herself. Live and learn. We rocked every night and we would sing together. But at 24 months, all went to crap. She became the most difficult child. She raged and threw fits and brought her Daddy and I to tears. I was pulling my hair out. I didn't know what to do! I prayed a lot. I prayed it was just a horrible case of the "VERY terrible twos" and that something wasn't wrong with her. All my energy was put in to keeping up with her. And it was tiring. All that bonding went out the window and I felt like I was constantly reaching for her, but she was never reachable. She was always distant.

She was also silent, unless screaming. She just never talked. She was smart though. She would "sing" me songs in perfect pitch even before she was 2 years old, but her words were just babbles. We were very concerned. Her fits grew, but her language did not. I longed to hear her say "Mama". We talked to her pediatrician about it and were told to wait until she was two and a half. At two and a half we took our still non verbal girl back. We were told to wait a few more months. A few months later....same. Tests were done and specialists were seen. My weeks revolved around appointments and observations. Emotionally, it was a nightmare as lots of ideas were thrown out, including autism. The final diagnosis was Low Muscle Tone. Basically, Felicity has good muscles and a good brain, but the wiring between them is lacking. Where you and I can talk without even thinking about it, Felicity has to concentrate to form ANY tiny sound, and often can't. The tongue is a huge muscle. Two years after weaning her, her fussiness while nursing made sense. The poor thing needed to nurse, but it was just so taxing on her. Hense the tears to nurse, while nursing, and after nursing. A lot made sense. Right before she turned 3, Felicity started receiving speech therapy and ocupational therapy.

I'd like to tell you how helpful that therapy has been. But due to insurance, poor Lissy has seen 3 therapists in one year, one of which was a 6 month run in the public school program because it was free. What a joke. Finally, we got her in with a wonderful therapist who adores Lissy, and Lissy adores her. Felicity was making great progress, that is until we were walking out the door to go see Felicity's beloved Heather one day when the office called. We could no longer go, not even that day. Insurance had decided that Lissy was not in need of speech therapy. The whole year I spent getting her evaluated by all the specialists, the diagnosis of low muscle tone, all the professionals saying Felicity had major speech needs and NEEDED to see a speech therapist till she was at least 6 but most likely 8, ALL those times I watched her try to interact with other kids at the park who ended up giving up and playing else where because they couldn't understand her, all my tears for her, all my FEARS for her.....and now insurance decides THEY don't think she needs it. I'm fighting with them currently and will NOT back down.

Last year, the very week she turned 3, I was told she may be autistic. I was so numb I can hardly remember her birthday. This year we have worked our butts off. I have been and continue to be my daughter's advocate, demanding she needs services. We have worked at home and celebrated every tiny milestone (today she said the F sound!). I have ached for her when she happily chats with another child who just stares at her, knowing somethings not right, and then turns and leaves her behind. I have rejoiced with her when she was fully included by sweet friends. Since turning 3, her fits have calmed and her raging is now usually totally under control. I think its directly linked with her verbal growth. The poor thing was so frustrated to not be able to communicate. She STILL gets frustrated. Her almost 2 year old brother will verbally pass her up soon. She has a LONG way to go. I have poured into her and really just tried to focus on her, especially these last few months. I am feeling that immense bond returning as she is letting me back in. She is still stubborn and feisty, but her stubbornness is what keeps her trying. She will NOT be left out!

Since I can hardly recall her 3rd birthday, I just wanted her 4th to be amazing. I wanted to celebrate her, Felicity, in the perfect way that God made her. I wanted to celebrate US, her and I, because I'm hers again. She's letting me back in. My husband and I spent the last 2 months focusing on creating for her, and it was amazing. Yes, she got more from us than normal, but you know what....it was deserved. We've all been through a lot and her little life has not been a sweet piece of cake, but its been amazing. And she's amazing. And what's happening NOW is amazing. And it is much to celebrate!

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17

We dedicated this verse to Felicity before she was born.

Felicity, I love you tearfully.

You truly are perfectly from Him.

I am honored to be your mother.

In My Humanness

I have been reading the blog Raising Arrows, and in it she had a post titled the same as mine where she talked about her struggle with the longings that come from being human, while still clinging to God and His plan.  I loved how raw, open, and honest she was in her post, and I wanted to share some of my raw self with you too.  I think its important to acknowledge the normalcy of grief, and share it. 

I am having one of my "hard nights" tonight.  They come about once a week and I grieve for my lost baby.  They always catch me off guard, but I always embrace them as it feels good to grieve.  The only thing I can do for our lost babe is grieve it, and remember.  So tonight, I do. 

In my humanness, I ACHE to feel a baby move inside me. 

In my humanness, I know how many weeks I'd be if I was still pregnant.  I know what stage of growth the baby would be at.  I don't need to read books to know what I'd be feeling and how the baby would have grown by now.  I've done it enough times that my body innately knows those milestones.  I grieve those milestone weeks passed and unmet.

In my humanness, I sometimes feel a sharp twinge when I'm counting heads at the park and feel like I'm missing someone even once I count to 3.  And then there in the park, it all floods back.

In my humanness, I love when my daughter asks again why the baby in my tummy died, because then I get to talk about it....acknowledge it.....know it was there.....know it happened.....say it existed.

In my humanness, hearing "you've got your hands full" for the umpteenth time feels a bit sad, as they really do feel emptier than I had expected.

In my humanness, I want to hear people ask when we plan to have more, like they asked after Logan was born, and like a few asked after Felicity was born.  This is the longest stretch we've had between babies but no one notices like when you only had one or two.  People assume you don't want more.  And I want more.

In my humanness, I long to be pregnant again.

In my humanness, I want it to happen this month.

God, forgive me for my humanness.  Forgive me for wanting.  Please help me to remain patient for Your perfect timing and Your perfect plan.  And thank you for so many daily reminders of the one forever in my heart.

The Farm Dream

I've had it my whole life.  I'm not even being dramatic.  When I was little I used to play house like every other little girl, but my house was always a prairie house.  I pretended I was wearing long dresses with an apron and a bonnet.  I envisioned a simple kitchen with wooden spoons and bowls which I made cheese in.  I loved the Little House on the Prairie books and read them all.  When my sisters and I discovered the American Girl dolls, I was instantly sold on wanting Kirsten because she was from a simple farm family.  I have always wanted to milk a cow and come to think of it, I never have!  The farm dream was not created in me by visiting other peoples' farms or hearing people talk about their farm.  No one we knew had a farm.  The farm dream is just a piece of me that has always been innately ME.

I grew up in Goleta, a suburb of Santa Barbara.  What kid wouldn't love that?  Me.  Yep, I was odd.  Yes, the beach was fun and all but I remember feeling stuck (for lack of better words) as a kid.  Stuck in a neighborhood.  Stuck in a seasonless environment.  Stuck in an area that never seemed to change.  Stuck in the crowd of people.  I always longed to live on a farm with room to run and get away from the crowds.  A place to watch the seasons change and things grow.  I LONGED to keep farm animals.  Little did I know, my mom dreamed that same dream...even PRAYED for it....for 14 years!  I never knew that until her prayers were answered.  When I was 15 we moved north and my parents bought 14 acres.  I was home!  Those 14 acres were never farmed, but there were seasons, and space, and things grew and changed.  My mom usually kept a veggie garden and for the first few years, I helped my dad upkeep the walnut trees until the market for walnuts wasn't worth the effort and the trees were left to the squirrels.

My mom and my boys watching cows

I am lucky to be married to a man who shares my dream.  He has been known to spend hours researching how to harvest rain water, how to tend rabbits, keep bees, and raise chickens.  Our desire to homestead has only grown over the years, while the housing market has declined.  For now, and probably a while, we are here.  We could stand it no longer and as soon as we read The Urban Homestead, we got to work on our little plot.  For now, that is fulfilling part of our desires.  But we still dream.  Don't get me wrong, we are very content in life and feel blessed by our little plot.  But one can always dream right?

Kisses for Daddy

That they can.  And it was brought to my attention today, that the farm dream is quite innate in our oldest son.  While we were driving, he excitedly shared with me his "great idea".  "Mama!  Let's sell our house and buy a NEW house with land so that we can have rabbits and goats and sheep and chickens who can lay eggs in their little nests in a barn!"  His enthusiasm was so sweet and so full.  I told him I had the same idea and that it WAS a great idea.  Perfect.  In his mind it was settled then.  All that was left was running the plan past Daddy and then we'd be in our new farm in no time.  He so pushed this plan that I finally had to tell him about money, which is something I don't often talk to him about as I'd like to shield him from its powers for as long as I can.  The disappointment in his face literally brought tears to my eyes.  Maybe his too.  "But Mommy, I just want to have some goats and get the eggs from the nests and we can have lots of room to run and play and get our energy out!  And we need to grow our food because God likes it when we grow lots of food."  Again, I assured him that I wanted all those things for him too and if I could, I'd make it happen.  But for now, it was out of our reach.  I KNOW his disappointment.  I could feel it in the core of me as I saw it on his face and in his body.  I knew it as a kid and know it as an adult.  I tried to encourage him by pointing out how blessed we are to have some space to grow plants to eat and tend to our bunnies.  He cheered up at that.  And I told him about how his Grammy had also dreamed of having a farm for a very long time and she prayed to God about it.  I told him praying doesn't mean we will get it, but God likes to know the desires of our heart and sharing those desires with Him can feel good.  So he prayed right then....for his farm....and his goats....and his chickens with the eggs in the little nests in the barn.

Maybe the farm dream is genetic.

An Update

After having a horrible night earlier this week filled with panic attacks and fear, I decided to call my midwife and talk to her about what was going on.  I hadn't seen my midwives yet because they don't work on Fridays and it just so happened that my labs from last week were received on a Friday and the OB who oversees the midwives was the one to read them and have me come in.  I don't know much about this man and he was very nice, but everything he said sounded scary to me as I sat at home and pondered it more.  Everything sounded like a problem.  The fears overwhelmed me and I was having legitimate panic attacks the morning after that long night so I decided to call my midwife and speak to her about her take on all this.  I'm SO glad I did. 

She explained to me what was going on.  Basically, the pregnancy is ending (I know that sounds horrible....there's no nice way to say it.....I've tried to think of a better way) but until it finally does, my hCG levels will slowly rise.  Once everything is over, my hCG levels will drop.  That drop in hormones is what will trigger my body to miscarry.  And until then......I wait.

The waiting is horrible.  It feels weird to look at a calendar and know how many weeks I'm pregnant.  The weeks keep going......and I'm still pregnant.....but those weeks don't measure anything except strung out loss now.

Knowing to expect a miscarriage is unexplainable.  Its like preparing for a nightmare.  But its the preparing part that feels so weird.  I have an urgent need to clean my house and keep it clean knowing that at some point, my family will be in and out, caring for my children when I will be physically unavailable to them and my husband will be supporting me.  I think of things such as the need to get some disposable diapers for Kian so that my family doesn't have to deal with cloth.  I want to wash and fold laundry so my mom won't have to if she's taking care of the kids.  Sadly, these feelings are nesting.  In no way do they feel different from when I nested before the births of our other 3 children.  I wanted the house ready for people to be coming in and out.  I wanted things organized and easy to find because I knew other people would be caring for our kids.  Its very sad to feel this nesting feeling....a feeling I know VERY well.....but know that this time around, it comes because we're preparing for a loss and not an addition. 

You may wonder why I write these things....why I am fine about being open with this intimate state of life we are in right now.  For one, I am not ashamed one bit about this.  I am honored to carry this baby, even knowing what the outcome will be.  Knowing I will never see it or touch it.  It has left a mark on my heart that will never leave, and for that I am proud and honored.  I want to tell people of that mark on my heart because I love it.  Another reason is that I want this journaled.  This is my life, recorded for my children.  This is their sibling.  This is part of their story and I want them to know it.  And lastly, if anyone gains from my writings, I'll be happy.  I hate how miscarriage is perceived a lot of the time.  Early miscarriages are often considered a "medical problem" and this view makes women suffering this great loss feel as if they shouldn't be feeling loss at all.  An early loss IS a true loss.  Its a loss of dreams.  Its a loss of a child.  And no one should feel that their loss isn't significant or valid. 
The Lord knew this child's name before he or she entered my womb, and a child named by God is certainly NOT a medical problem.

Isaiah 49:1 Before I was born the LORD called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name.

Life Now

.....is crazy.   Bottom line.   Period.

I have started a post about our "news" 2 other times now.  First it was a pregnancy announcement post.  Then is was a post on loss as I started to miscarry.  Now, I don't know WHAT it is.

We found out I was expecting our fourth baby near the end of May.  We were beyond thrilled.  The kids were beyond thrilled.  But by mid June, problems started.  I was loosing the baby.  The grief was horrible.  We spent a weekend holed up in our house...just us....just dealing.  It was really good and by the beginning of the next week, I was feeling like I was coming up for air.  Things moved forward, the physical pains went away, I helped work on plans for my Nana's memorial.  The loss was still quite near, but I could function.   But by the end of the week, things went wrong again.  The Dr. called to tell me I was still pregnant, but something was very wrong.  My HCG levels (which measure the pregnancy hormones in women) were not declining as is normal in a miscarriage.  But they were also not doubling as in a normal pregnancy.  They were consistently rising, but painfully slowly.  Dr. feared an ectopic pregnancy and wanted me in for an ultrasound.  He told me it could be "life threatening".  Of course, I got off the phone with him in shear panic.  My husband was on the road somewhere about 3 hours away from us.  I was just leaving for the church as it was the day before my Nana's memorial.  And there stood my 3 sweet kids.  One with a fever.  

"Life threatening"......it rang in my head like an alarm that I couldn't stop.  I called Zac, who was stuck in construction traffic.  I called my mom.  She dropped everything, told me to drop the kids with the family at the church and she'd go to the ultrasound with me.  How would I ever drop the kids?  I didn't know.  "Life threatening" was still ringing in my ears and I was more scared than I may have ever been before.

Not knowing what to expect I threw diapers, lovies, clothes, and jammies into a bag for the kids.  I somehow said goodbye to them at the church.  It helped that my pastor's wife whisked them away for ice cream and toys.  We are a good drive from the hospital, which was followed by a good wait for the ultrasound.  Of course the tech isn't allowed to say anything so that was followed by a long wait at my midwives' office at closing time.  Thankfully, because of all that waiting, Zac arrived minutes before the Dr. walked in with the news.

And what was the news?   .......  He didn't know.  He felt comfortable to send me home thinking that I wasn't in danger.  It did not look ectopic though he couldn't rule that out completely.  I was told to return with any abnormal pain on one side.  Technically, I'm still pregnant, with what the Dr. thinks is an "abnormal pregnancy" based on my HCG levels.  He thinks I will most likely miscarry.  He believes my body has been trying to already, which is why I thought I already had.  Could there be a chance the pregnancy will survive?  Yes....slightly..... but he really doesn't think so.

That happened the day before my Nana's memorial service....on our 11th wedding anniversary.

So here I sit.   I feel like a ticking bomb.  Without going into too much personal nitty gritty info, every symptom, or every end of a symptom, is confusing.  I heard miscarriages are painful and initially thought I had been lucky with minor symptoms.  Now, knowing it hasn't even really started yet, I fear the worst is yet to come.  I keep bracing myself.  I also fear my body won't do what it needs to and intervention will be needed.  I also wonder what will happen if my HCG levels continue to slowly creep up at my next draw later this week.  I try to not get my hopes up that a miracle will happen and against most odds my HCG levels will suddenly double.  But its hard to not get hope when I also can't yet mourn.   Or mourn again....since we already went through all those emotions once.  I feel like I'm sitting in limbo.

We so wanted this child.  And whatever the outcome, we feel blessed to have had this child, even if for a short time.  We don't question what God's doing.  We feel our children are really His.  We have faith and peace with His plan.  We know He knows this child's name already, and that brings me more comfort than anything.  And while in this limbo time, I pray He gives me strength and prepares me for the end of this journey.

Hardest Mom Moment Yet

Logan is going on 6 and with that age is coming some insecurities and fears that unfortunately, the nature of our sinful world has a way of doing.  I think 5 is a coming of age, age.  He is no longer a little child.  His mind is growing.  He understands loss heavier than his 3 year old sister, yet is still so confused by the finality of it.  He loves so hugely, but has sadly seen someone special, whom he loves dearly, make horrible decisions which has separated that person from us during this time.  That is something we don't want, but we can't control the choices of others.  And for a 5 year old, a loved one leaving is hard to understand. 
I don't know if it's his age, or certain uncertainties he's experienced this year, but today he was convinced that I didn't love him.  I had just disciplined him for a minor offense......an offense he knows the rules to very well and knew he'd get in trouble for.  However, after I disciplined him, he just could not get over it.  We warned him about changing his attitude when he came over to me and said he didn't like me and I didn't love him.  Tears were streaming down his face, and I was having a hard time holding mine in.  What a blow.  I was stunned.  I took him in my arms and it took me a good half hour to convince him that I loved him.  After a good talk, my worst mom moment ever was turned into a very wonderful mom moment when (finally believing me) he asked me why I loved him.  After I made a huge list, he asked again, just wanting to hear it being said.  After that, he asked a third time, again just wanting to hear it.  After that, he told ME why I loved him. 
I remember being his age and after being disciplined, I thought for sure my mom's love for me had lessened.  I remember this so very vividly.  I was convinced that now that I had screwed up, she wouldn't love me as much as my sisters.  I could not understand how one person would have enough room in their heart to love me (especially when I screwed up) as well as lots of other people.  This was exactly what Logan was thinking today too.  I remember that pain, and I hate that Logan had that pain.  I hate wondering if I've not noticed some anxiety in him lately.  I hate that we've been busy and maybe he just needed a hug more often and more reassurance and I just didn't know! 
It was so very emotionally difficult to reassure him, while being so hurt for him that he felt so insecure.  Seriously, God gave me the words to tell him because they were NOT of me.  They were God's perfect words that we BOTH needed to hear in that moment, and I'm so thankful that God is my loving Father who will never stop loving me or my children.

Logan, you asked why I love you.  I love you because;

you are so very compassionate for others in pain,

you so badly want to be accepted, that you often are too timid to participate (just like me),

you love so hugely and deeply,

you love to snuggle Daddy and I at night,

you talk constantly when Lissy and Kian are asleep, soaking up every minute of my undivided attention,

you love God's creation and always give Him the credit for it,

you sing Kian to sleep when he's having a hard time,

you and Kian sometimes goof off after bedtime....laughing, being silly, and bonding as brothers,

you have amazing freckles, :)

you run so freely through the waves at the beach,

you are amazed and excited about everything from ambulances, to woodpeckers, to instruments,

you decided on your own to gift some cars you outgrew to your sister,

you are very giving,

you never let us forget to pray, whether at mealtime, bed time, when passing an accident on the road, or whenever someone is suffering.....from a small scrape, to sickness, to emotional turmoil,

you love every single thing I sew for you and see it as a token of my love for you,

you are distressed when people are hurting,

you rock out so freely.

I will love you more tomorrow.  I will love new things about you every day.  I am honored to watch you grow.  I love you because God chose you out of all the baby boys, just for me.  I love you because you grew and kicked inside me.  I loved you before you took your first breath.  I adored you the minute I held you fresh from my womb.  I love you because you are not only my son, but because you are also my brother in Christ.  I will be honored to spend eternity with you and our Father who loves us even more than we love each other. 

I LOVE YOU!

Shortly after Logan was reassured and off working on a project with Zac, Felicity came running up to me and told me, once again, how she loved my necklace.  I instantly took it off and let her wear it.  Inside, I felt like I was saying "Here, take it.  Take everything.  Just know that I love you."  That must be how our Heavenly Father felt as He hung on the cross.  Take everything.  Just know that I love you.