Getting in the Miles

Simon: Still no teeth, but profuse drooling.  Still not crawling, but making attempts to be on hands and knees, rolling back and forth to try to get places.  Simon has a super-strong body, like Myles did, and when he is restless (wanting to crawl, to walk) it's hard to hold him.  He leans back to dive out of my arms or pushes me away, stretches to kick anything his feet can reach, just a super-active kid.  He also has an incredible sense of humor.  When not hungry/tired/restless, he's pretty laid back and enjoys being with the family.  He finds Myles hilarious, which Myles in turn finds hilarious.  He smiles a lot and laughs all the time.  Myles recently looked at Simon and said in a sing-song voice "Nightmare!"  Simon cracked up.  Repeat.  Endlessly.  Simon's ticklish on his neck and under his arms and loves to have his thighs squeezed, so I can almost always get a giggle out of him, even when he's cranky.  Myles said yesterday, "Simon's neck needs to grow.  We have normal necks but Simon hasn't grown one yet."  It's true, his neck is a series of chubby creases that gather food, drool, and grime, but he loves bath time.  He's a sweet one.

Myles: He either loved our vacation with every cell in his body or loathed it, depending on the moment.  We had lots of talks about attitude, as I remember my parents having with me.  He obsesses over things we've put limits on like sweets and tv.  He resists all attempts to put anything soothing on his body like sunscreen, lotions, and ointments.  His legs look like summer, a mess of bug bites and scrapes covered with a dusting of golden hair.  Like Seth, his legs are long, thin, and 100% muscle.  We had a good laugh the other day when he finally grew out of his Diego underpants (they were too short on his waist, but still not too tight), which he's had since he was 3 years old.  His arms and legs grow long, but his waist and thighs are still the same size they were when he was 3.  He's tall.  Once he wakes up, he's in constant motion and has portions of the day when he absolutely must break out into spontaneous song at the top of his lungs.  To sum it up, he continues to be a force of nature, which can be beautiful, amazing, overwhelming, and grating all in the course of a single day.  He's an awesome big brother to Simon. 

2013 Family Vacation in Charleston, SC: As we arrived at the Church St Inn, we recognized the French Quarter Inn across the street as the exact place where Seth and I spent our rainy honeymoon, watching the Olympics on tv and making one overcast trip to the beach.  Downtown Charleston is a beautiful place to stay--not far from the beach, but far enough that Myles was not drawn to it like a magnet every waking hour.  When Simon's bedtime rolled around, Myles and Seth would hit the streets, weaving through downtown, eating ice cream and seeing the many sights.  We visited Circular UCC again, the oldest church in Charleston, absolutely breath-taking.  In its backyard is a graveyard, and Myles wandered through it feeling right at home.  The kid loves graveyards and cemeteries.  Seth ran every day through the sticky heat, he's training for another race.  I was able to get out to run once, early evening, before dinner.  Seth gave me directions and I ran alongside the downtown market to the water's edge, through the park with the splash pad; kids everywhere screaming and wet, full of summer's joy.   I ran on the ashy path next to the water, taking in the boats, other runners overtaking me at every turn as I plodded along; slow, light-headed, hot.  I passed the dog park and found myself beside the very park where I remembered walking with our family when we vacationed here the year my dad was supposedly cured from cancer.  A bride and groom paused next to a large canon, having their pictures made.

I knew where the run would take me, and that I would think of my dad.  Remembering even what he wore that night, some Tennessee orange golf shirt, his hair all there, his energy and color full of life.  He told Seth that week as they ran along the beach that he had a new lease on life.  They had operated to remove a large sarcoma tumor and believed they had gotten it all.  No cells in the margin.  He was in full remission.  I remember that feeling we all had, as if we'd narrowly missed a collision with fate.  We were the lucky ones, and we wouldn't forget this time the beauty of the present moment, the brevity of life, the fragility of human living.

Except the remission didn't stick.

Still, my dad did have a new lease on life, because all through the months that followed--the new tumors and the chemo, the operation and hospital stay, the slow draining of my dad's life--he loved just about every second of it.  He thanked every nurse who poked and prodded him with a stunning sincerity.  And part of his legacy was a new lease on life for all who survived him.

Remembering the way he rolled with it, I thought about how much life has taught me as I ran through that Charleston park.  We thought we knew the endgame--his cancer in remission, his life narrowly saved.  The purpose of his illness was not to kill him but to teach us to better appreciate life and one another.  But that was not how it happened.  And when he accepted that the cancer was back and the fight was on once again, he leaned into life still.

I learned so much from watching him.  I somehow grew up believing so strongly in myself that I imagined I could bend life.  If I wanted it, I would go out and get it.  Strong-willed.  But I've learned from watching my dad, from having children and starting a  new community of faith, that life has its way with all of us.  And that's not a bad thing.  We learn most when we are brought to our knees, wandering outside our comfort zones, stretched beyond capacity.  When we turn our hard shells over and finally go belly-up--vulnerable to pain and change--that's when we truly grow.  Like building muscle or gaining mileage, it hurts.  But the rewards exceed the pain.  I tried to will my way through a natural birth when I had Myles, and that's not the way new life comes forth.  With Simon, I had to let the labor roll over me and just ride the waves. 

The water was beautiful as I ran, the city old and gorgeous, full of history both glorious and painful.  I thought of my dad laughing.  Telling Seth, "Get in the miles for me."  We are.

7 Months of Simon

Simon turned 7 months yesterday, and I can't imagine him getting any cuter or sweeter than he is right now.  The difficult days of early infancy have gone and it's amazing that this same baby is now laid-back, happy, and content.  And if the baby's happy, mostly we are happy too.  I say "mostly" because Myles is currently in what I like to call "a season of disequilibrium."  Meaning: he melts down more easily at night, resists following instructions, and employs the Mandy stomp.  These things come and go with him, and what I read in a book about kids going through seasons of equilibrium with their parents and then seasons of disequilibrium seems to hold true with him.  I'm not sure why things are harder with him just as they've gotten easier with Simon, but so it goes.  It never ceases to amaze Seth and me that after nearly 8 months of getting dressed every morning for school, it's still difficult for Myles to just go and get dressed.  And, of course, Seth and I are the meanest parents in the world for asking him to do it. 

Simon learned last week to jump in the Johnny jumper that hangs from the door frame, and now he is content to jump for nearly an hour at a time.  He looks like a plump, graceful little ballerina as he jumps from his toes with his arms stretched wide and his hands fanning out.  If Myles happens to be in the tub, the jumping gets much more intense as Simon cracks up at all that Myles does.  Elaborate plots are hatched from the depths of a bubble bath, including batman, two-face, superman and penguin.  Sometimes fishing is involved, and there's always some kind of danger followed by a miraculous rescue.  Typically Myles gets self-conscious if Seth or I try to watch him play and asks us to leave, but he seems to be okay with Simon peeking in on his imaginary world of adventure.  Good for both of them. 

Last Sunday I was on to preach, and so had to make some meaning (in a public forum) of the Boston bombings.  I guess it's not rocket-science to suggest that this is our new normal--these acts of senseless violence that punctuate our lives at an accelerating clip.  We don't know when or where the next incident will take place, we simply know it's coming and there's little we can do to stop it.  For those of us with young children, we want to shield them from the 24-hour news cycle that re-traumatizes all of us with haunting images.  It's not easy being a parent these days; I guess it never has been.  It's the task of our generation to learn how to parent in the context of this incessant violence.  How do we raise spiritually resilient children? 

Lately, articles and blogs have come my way about helicopter parenting...this over-attention and micro-management of our children's daily lives to the extent that they can never learn from a scraped knee.  We want to remove every road block in their way, and in doing so they never learn how to remove a road block of their own.  Our anxiety becomes their anxiety.  Our heightened expectations are projected onto them and if they aren't in the best school or if they don't have the best teacher or if they aren't the best, brightest, strongest, and most good-looking kid in the class then we've all somehow failed. 

I can't help but think these two things are related.  In a society rife with random acts of violence, we parents feel a bit out of control.  We might not be able to control whether a crazy man enters our kids' schools with a gun, but we can try to control other aspects of their little lives to set them up for success.  At least that's what we think we're doing.  Instead, we over-program and over-resource and over-medicate and over-intervene in our kids' lives to the extent that we threaten their growth as human beings.  We just can't help ourselves. 

Myles sometimes comes home from school singing "Just stop, take a deep breath, and relax."  He's learned this in kindergarten as a way to calm down if you are upset.  Maybe they should be teaching us parents the same thing.  In this world, I can hardly think of better advice for Seth and myself.  Just stop.  Take a deep breath.  Relax.  This world is as it is; broken to the core, but still somehow full of beauty and love, grace and compassion.  The sooner we can accept that we are all in the same boat, all along for the ride (and not at all in the driver's seat) the better we will enjoy the ride. 

James and the Giant Peach

I wake up every day and can't believe this sweet boy is mine.  He is so beautiful.  Now that he's sleeping better (more about that later), his personality seems to be mellowing.  He's happy most of the time; he smiles and laughs easily.  He loves to hear me talk.  And I love to talk.  So we're a good fit.  A few weeks ago I got irritated by one of the grandmotherly women who cares for Simon at his morning out program when she suggested I consider putting him on solids.  The lack of sleep for so many months left me kinda edgy, but let's face it, most of us who are mothers do not like to receive even kindly suggestions if they are not solicited.  I know when and how to feed my kid, okay?  Look at his juicy thighs, he's not starving.  Back in the day they started them on solids when they were just a few months old, but things have changed.  When I got back home I looked it up.  Sure enough, the American Academy of Pediatrics, the World Health Organization and a few others all agree that babies should be exclusively breast-fed for six months.  With Myles, I introduced solids at six months, but he wasn't very interested.  In fact, it wasn't really until 8 months that he ate them regularly and it wasn't until 10 months that he was really digging them.  So there. 

But the following week (three weeks before he turned six months), I was sitting at the table eating lunch and Simon was in his high chair with a few toys.  And he communicated very clearly to me that he wanted my food.  Simon is a good communicator, especially when he's crying for milk.  But this wasn't a cry for my breastmilk.  He was staring at my food and giving me that same whine, and I felt like he knew that I knew what he wanted.  Solid food.  So, against the advice of the AAP and the WHO, I got my baby what he wanted.  The only thing I had in the house was organic bananas, so I smashed one up and thinned it out with breastmilk.  It took him a few tries to figure out how to move the food back with his tongue and swallow it, but once he did pure joy ensued.  He whined for more between every bite.  So it's true; every kid is different.  He turned six months on Monday, and now he's up to eating solids twice a day (which kinda freaks me out) and he eats bananas, avocado, rice cereal, and sweet potatoes, with the caveat that they all have to be mixed with bananas. 

The sleep situation: When he was four months old, I didn't know how I was going to make it.  The sleeplessness was absolutely killing me.  I think I was starting to hallucinate.  I read the No Cry Sleep Solution, and after thinking about it, I was convinced I needed to get Simon out of my bed.  It was laborious, to say the least.  There was a lot of rocking, singing, holding, hushing, and then I'd go to transfer him to the crib and he'd wake up and cry.  Again and again and again.  But I kept trying.   And things improved.  With about a half hour's worth of work, I was able to get him into the crib successfully.  Then he'd sleep for 20 minutes and wake up like an alarm clock exploded in his head.  Every time.  20 minutes on the dot.  That was during the day.  At night, it was still every two hours.  But at least he was in the crib and I could roll around in my bed again without worrying about waking him up.  There were times when I was so exhausted I'd just let him cry; or times when he was so exhausted that there was nothing I could do to get him to stop crying so I'd let him cry.  But slowly, as I stuck with it, there were improvements.  Now, we are in a very good place.  He can take 1-2 hour naps in his crib (not all the time, but much of the time).  At night, he wakes up once between 2:30-3:30 for a feeding, and then again sometime between 5:30 and 6:30am.  (If it's 5:30 I try to get him back to bed until 7, if it's 6:30, we both just get up).  I feel sane again.  Life is so, so, so good.  It's amazing what five hours of consecutive sleep on a regular basis will do.

Myles: It may sound odd, but ever since Myles was an infant I looked forward to the day when I could read him chapter books.  When I was growing up I have these beautiful memories of my dad reading us chapter books after dinner.  One chapter a night.  They were some of my favorite books as a kid: James and the Giant Peach, the Magic Bicycle.  A month or so ago, I finally decided that Myles was ready (as evidenced by the fact that he began bringing Captain Underpants home from the school library and asking us to read chapter after chapter).  So I bought James and the Giant Peach.  Myles was mesmerized.  We finished it in a week and I realized I can't buy books at that rate, I need to get back to the library.  So we got Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and then we watched the old version of the movie together as a family after we finished that one.  My mom brought us Charlotte's Web, and we're about half way through that.  Any other suggestions of good chapter books for a six year old?  Myles loves to be read to, and I love to read.  We're a good fit that way.

This week was his spring break, and I had kinda been dreading it.  I'm preaching on Easter and Holy Week has typically been a very stressful week work-wise (not to mention the emotion of it for me, as I observe Maundy Thursday and Good Friday).  Having both boys home with me while I'm trying to work is not easy.  I expected a lot of whining from Myles..."I'm bored...what can I do, Mama?  But I don't want to do that!  Why can't we go somewhere?  Is there anything special going on today?"  Well, I misjudged.  This week Myles was the sweetest kid ever.  He kept telling me how special it was that we got to spend more time together this week and how he was happy to be home with me (uh, he never says that!).  We did bake some cookies, but by far the coolest thing he did (at my suggestion) was make a book about dinosaurs.  The book is like 20 pages long, and he drew on most of the pages and sounded out all the words.  It's very hard for Seth and I to read (which was frustrating for him), because his sense of how words sound and how they are actually spelled are very different.  But together, we can decipher it and it is the most precious thing he's ever made.  I want to keep it forever.  He also saved up enough allowance to buy this treasure chest that he's wanted ever since he saw it in the store (like a week ago), and was so delighted to get it today.  I'm very thankful that we had a good week together, and Simon too.

Seth's running the Dupont 12k tomorrow.  I'm excited for Easter Sunday, though my sermon's not as good as I wish it was.  Just being with our community is a gift.  And even though it drives me nuts to celebrate Easter on the Saturday when we're supposed to be remembering Jesus' death, I just take a deep breath and let my kid participate in the Easter festivities around town.

My mom came last weekend to watch the boys while I officiated a wedding and then went with Seth to the Grove Park Inn for a meal with the families of the couple.  She is such an awesome Grandma.  The photo of Simon was taken by her.  Love you Mom.

Well, that's it for now.  Thanks for tuning in.  Next week, I'm plugged back into facebook, but I do hope to keep updating the blog from time to time.  Happy Easter...  

Sleep, precious sleep...

A brief post to fill you in on the latest, greatest news...Simon slept through the night!  My Aunt Penny and Uncle Gary were visiting my mom this week, and so I took Myles out of school on Thursday and Friday so we could go to my mom's to visit with them.  I thought it was possible that Simon would do awful, sleep-wise, in a different sleeping environment.  But, as it turned out, the first night he slept for 5.5 hours straight (I was sleeping for 4.5 of those hours), and then slept through until 7am, and the next night he slept for 7 hours straight, at which point I woke him for a feeding because I couldn't go any longer without feeding him.  Wow!  I have no idea what tonight will hold, being back home, but I am going to turn up the heat a few degrees, as I have a feeling that one thing that may be waking him up is that it's a little cold in his room (even though he's dressed in so many layers).  At my mom's I still woke up every 4 hours or so (wondering if he was still alive, since he's never slept so long before), but I think if he keeps this up, I might just get 5+ hours of consecutive sleep.  I'm giddy at the possibility! 

It was good to be at my mom's, and it was also one of those visits when I thought a lot about my dad.  I remembered how excited he was to build that house; how every detail was worth discussion and deliberation.  I remember him in every room; grilling on the back deck (then taking in sun when he was really sick and couldn't do much other than sit), turning on music downstairs to liven things up, countless meals at the dining table, the interview we did with him a week or so before his death on the couch in the family room.  I remember him in the study, always working on this or that, and in his bedroom, especially when he was no longer able to get up out of the bed.  I needed a Bible yesterday for sermon writing and I got his out to use.  Then I sat down and pored over some old photographs, and re-read all the memories people sent in when my sister made a book of them for my mom.  What stood out to me was how many people commented on his obvious love and affection for my mom...the way he did little things for her and always complimented her, he found countless ways to talk about her and show his love.  I really want to be more like that.  I am married to one fine man, and I don't always do a good job of fully appreciating him.  With two kids hanging on me every day, I am not as affectionate with him as I'd like to be.  It was a nice reminder of my dad's spirit and how I still have so much to learn from him as I go through the seasons of my life. 

We all have different gifts in life.  I actually watched American Idol at my mom's house (ha!), and was reminded that I do NOT have an ear for music...I appreciate it, but I do not hear all the things that those judges' ears are tuned to hear.  But I am tuned into Spirit.  I always have been; I guess I was just born that way.  And while I can't hear all the fine-tuned details when it comes to music, I don't doubt that they are there.  Not everyone is plugged into spirituality; I've had spiritual experiences that perhaps are a bit on the unusual side, but just because one isn't tuned in themselves doesn't mean God or the next place don't exist.  Seth and I were talking about this tonight, because when I think about my dad, it's very bitter-sweet, and yet I always sense that he is present or watching.  I do feel that I communicate with him, though it's a very different kind of communication.  And I do believe that I will see him or be in his presence more fully again one day.

In the mean time, hopefully I'll be getting some sleep... 

Bigger Family; Smaller World

This post is for my mom, in lieu of a thank you card for the week she spent with us while Seth was in Parks' Maintenance Management school in West Virginia.  It was such a gift to have her with us!

I think I've been avoiding blogging for a few reasons; one being that I'm so busy.  But really, if I'm totally honest, my life is just really hard right now and there's not much inspiring or interesting to say about it.  Any slight wisp of inspiration I harness for sermon-writing, and I'm in a rather parched place in my life.  I give a lot to a lot of people and rarely have time or energy for myself, and that's not a very fun or interesting thing to read about, so I've just avoided blogging altogether.  Facebook, which I am fasting from for Lent, is much easier, because I can just write one little cute thing my child said that day and be done with it.  Blogging actually requires some self-reflection.  So if you really want to hear what my life is like right now, here it is:

With the addition of Simon to our lives, life is much richer.  It goes without saying, but he adds a whole new dimension.  Myles is a brother now, and he's a very happy and patient one.  Simon cries and screams, and Myles never complains.  I spend a great deal of time with Simon, often leaving me exhausted and short with Myles, but Myles is not at all resentful.  He just has a really good heart, and he loves his brother deeply even though all Simon can do is smile at him at this point.  Seeing Myles as a big brother has been an incredible gift in and of itself.  It brings him a lot of joy, and I look forward to seeing how this relationship will grow and change in the coming years.  Simon is a beautiful, happy child...he has plump rolls that I love to squeeze (making him giggle), and seems to have a sweet disposition much of the time.  I am so thankful that after all the hemming and hawing, we decided to have another child and it was him.  He will be with us for the rest of our lives, and the love he inspires in us is a blessing.  Our family has grown.

At the same time, our world has closed in on us in many ways.  I am, and have been, more sleep deprived than I ever imagined possible.  After a great deal of dedication and work, we've succeeded in getting Simon out of my bed, which means I sleep more deeply.  But he still wakes up every two hours, and now that requires me to crawl out of bed, go downstairs, feed him and rock him, and get him back to bed, then drink more water so I am hydrated enough to feed him.  I am totally and utterly exhausted.  During the day, he often naps for no longer than 20 minutes at a time, unless I am able to get him to fall asleep in his car seat, which is hit or miss.  Then, he can sometimes nap for an hour or two.  While he is awake, he cries unless he is in my arms.  Literally, he needs to be in my arms or strapped into a carrier (which is getting harder to do for long periods of time as he gains weight) or he cries.  We have an exersaucer, a johnny jumper, a play mat, and two swings (one seated, one reclined) that swing in different directions.  None of them provide satisfaction for more than ten minutes.

Now is the time to put out this warning: The purpose of this blog is not to garner your sympathies or seek your advice.  I have already sought all kinds of advice in many different forums and venues, I have read like 5 books and consulted consultants.  I am not seeking any advice.

My life is just hard right now, and that's the reality of it.  Every day I wake up thankful for a new day, every day I give my best.  Some days I feel defeated as I crawl into bed and other days I feel full of gratitude.  It's just the way things are right now.

Because Simon is so...high maintenance...I pretty much spend every hour when he is not in my care (he goes to a morning out program 3 mornings/week), or sleeping, or with Seth, working.  I always have this feeling that I'm behind and can never catch up (partly because that's the nature of leading a new church, partly because I'm sleep deprived, and partly because I actually could work so many more hours if I had them).  My house is messy.  I am out of shape.  I do not get the chance to go to the zillions of interesting, adult things that go on in my fabulous city; not alone, not with my spouse.  I cannot volunteer in Myles' classroom the way that I would like to do, the way I see other moms doing.  That said, Simon is not what I would call a "cranky" baby.  In other words, when he is in my arms, he is full of smiles and good cheer, babbling at me, and interactive.  He is a very sweet baby.

I have spent time wishing that I could more fully enjoy this sweet stage of Simon's life.  This is, in all likelihood, the last time I will have a 4 month old baby.  I know from my experience with Myles that in the blink of an eye, he will be walking into kindergarten without looking back.  And yet, this season of our lives--so temporary--is also really hard.

In our Ash Wednesday service we invite folks to write down what they wish to burn away from their lives, that thing that displaces God in their heart of hearts, and then we light it on fire.  I was not organized enough to actually have a pen with me, so I didn't write anything down, but I thought about what I wanted to burn away.  It was this: the notion that I have it all "together" that I can do this all on my own.  I thought of the way that Simon looks when he's crying in his crib...his face all red, tears streaming down the side of his face (he's crying right now so I can write this blog), his arms lifted and shaky.  I feel like that's what I look like to God right now, and I want to embrace that.  I am utterly dependent.  I absolutely need God to get through every single day.  Not because my life is miserable or I'm depressed or stressed out, but because this season of my life is so rich with challenge and struggle.  It's a gift to be reminded that I cannot do it all on my own; that I am fallible and imperfect, that I don't always get it right.  In fact, that's really the gift of parenting...realizing that something we thought would be so straight-forward is complex beyond measure, and that the shades of gray fan out from here to eternity in terms of what's the "right way" to raise our kids.  We simply do our best and give the rest over to God.  We apologize when we mess up and ask for forgiveness.  We let go of guilt the best we can and embrace joy each time it toddles our way.  We thank God for the grin of an infant and the self-assured confidence of a 6-year old.  We wonder how everyone else seems to do it all with such ease.  Perhaps the dirty little secret is that it's this hard for many people.  We just are too afraid to say it.

Myles recently had his sixth birthday...he is full of delightful traits and says the most hilarious things.  But, my short window for blogging has come to an end, as Simon is still crying.

I am so thankful for this difficult, beautiful life of mine.  For my boys, all three of them.  For the love that's come into my life through Simon.  My heart is bigger, even if my world is smaller.

The Story of Our Successful VBAC

Simon James Hendler-Voss was born early Tuesday morning, September 25th via an unmedicated VBAC water-birth, attended by our doula, midwife, and a nurse.  This is the story of how it unfolded, and the resources that enabled us to have a successful VBAC in Asheville. 

Perhaps unlike many mamas hoping for a VBAC, the cesarian birth of my first child had nothing to do with lack of support or knowledge.  New Dawn Midwifery provided care throughout my pregnancy and I planned on a natural birth at our local, baby-friendly hospital.  I attended prenatal yoga and a birthing class with Seth.  We chose not to have any ultrasounds and did not know if the baby would be a boy or a girl.  I read Ina May's books and birth stories and it never even occurred to me that I might have a cesarian birth.  Growing up athletic, my body knew hard work and always seemed to rise to the occasion of any challenge.  I wanted to have a doula for the birth, but felt we didn't have the money in our budget.  Instead I recruited a friend who was training to be a doula, and she would provide her services for free as part of her training.  When it turned out that she needed to move out of Asheville a few months before the birth, we decided not to hire a doula to replace her, but invited another friend to attend the birth as a support person. 

As labor got underway and we went to the hospital, it became apparent the baby was positioned posterior, and I experienced painful back labor.  My friend Cindy applied pressure to my back with almost every contraction for hours, but the contractions were so painful that I couldn't lean into them and allow them to do their work; instead, I found myself resisting them.  12 hours into labor, with no rest through the night, my labor began to show signs of stalling.  The midwife suggested I have a whiff of pitocin.  I was willing to do this only if I could have an epidural, since I had been working at my edge for so long.  Thus began the cascade of medical interventions...

I received an epidural (a great one, which allowed me to still feel the contractions a tiny bit and to push on all fours) followed by pitocin, and promptly dilated to 10cm.  Then I began to push.  A few hours into the pushing, I could see and feel Myles' head, but I could not get him under my pubic bone.  Between contractions, his head would recede.  The midwife called the back-up doctor.  When he arrived, he determined Myles' head was not crowning, but rather presenting at an angle that would be impossible for me to deliver him vaginally.  He could not be turned; he could not be vacuumed out, I had to have a c-section.  Seth and I were exhausted and bewildered by this unexpected news.  His head was right there, I could touch it!  I continued to push while they prepped me for surgery.  Luckily Myles' heart beat never wavered, and so there was no sense of the surgery being an emergency.  Myles was delivered by c-section, I saw him briefly afterward, put my hand on his head and whispered his name to him.  He was given back to me after I was stitched up, which seemed like an eternity. 

The aftermath of the cesarian birth was painful in every way.  I had never had major surgery before, except to have my wisdom teeth removed.  I could not go to the bathroom without assistance.  I could not stand and hold my baby.  I could not change his diaper.  I was overwhelmed, rocked, and toppled.  My milk took forever to come in.  I shuffled off to the breastfeeding center in slippers since my feet were swollen for weeks after the birth.  I was instructed to nurse and pump every two hours, and with the support of my husband and my mom, I did it.  It was painful and hard, I was totally sleep deprived.  Eventually, my milk came in and I went on to successfully breast-feed Myles for 14 months, until he self-weaned. 

My midwife said that every birth teaches us exactly what we need to know.  My first child with his shock of red hair has taught me so much about letting go of my need to control things.  He has been one of the best teachers in my life, and the over-achiever in me is still learning that I cannot accomplish everything by sheer will.  Myles' birth was humbling and it began to teach me a very valuable lesson about parenting...it's not all about me. 

When we discovered I was finally pregnant again (we waited a while for many reasons), I knew my hopes for this birth included a VBAC.  My sister had two VBACs, and that encouraged me.  Again, I went through New Dawn Midwifery and attended pre-natal yoga.  This time, however, I invested in chiropractic care through Awakening Heart Chiropractic, figuring if it could save me from the cost of a cesarian by helping the baby get into optimal fetal positioning, the cost would be well worth it.  We also invested in a doula team.  I visited the spinning babies website and practiced the exercises and stretches they recommended almost daily.  I also opened my mind to the possibility of another cesarian birth if things did not go according to plan.  

My pregnancy was very pronounced with Simon...I seemed to get big much earlier, and as a short person, my belly just continued to grow straight outward.  I felt very cramped and crunched inside, and the third trimester was uncomfortable to say the least.  Simon kicked me so hard sometimes that I thought he might do damage.  The Thursday before he was born, I had contractions all day long; first 10 minutes apart and then 5 minutes apart.  They never intensified, but my body seemed to be ready to birth this baby. 

On Monday morning, I lost my mucus plug, and I knew he would come soon.  That night, I began to have braxton-hicks contractions again, and they intensified.  By 11:00pm, I believed I was in labor.  I came down to the kitchen where Seth was working at the computer and told him this was it!  Simon was 37 weeks and 1 day; early, but full-term.  The contractions started at 10 minutes apart.  Seth called Tom, Myles' Godfather, to come over and be with him.  Myles was asleep, but we had told him that he might wake up to Tom if the baby came.  Tom arrived, and Seth began packing things up.  The contractions moved to 7 minutes apart.  We called our doula, who said to call her when we were closer to 4-5 minutes apart.  I labored in the shower until the hot water ran out. 

As we called the midwife, the contractions moved to 5 minutes apart.  She asked Seth to put the phone near me so she could hear what I sounded like during a contraction.  When she heard my low groaning, she said it was time to go to the hospital.  First, I had to make it down two flights of steps and into the car.  The contractions now seemed to be coming faster.  Our doula arrived just as I was getting to the car, and she squeezed my hips together during a contraction as I leaned against the car door.  The pressure took the edge off and helped me focus on something other than the pain.  I got in the car, and instructed Seth not to speed (speeding intensified the contractions).  I had my most intense contraction yet in the car and need to scream a little, which scared Seth a bit.   

When we got to the hospital around 2:15am, Seth left the car where it was and helped me in.  The contractions were coming like waves, one on top of the other.  Our doula Jordan helped me through them, and our midwife Angie wanted to check to see how dilated I was.  First, she encouraged me to pee.  As I got into the bathroom, my water broke all over the floor.  I got into a bed in the labor and delivery room as they began to fill up the birthing tub.  The contractions were now so close I couldn't get any relief between them.  I had to pound on the bed frame a little and sometimes would do some screaming, though Jordan and Angie always reminded me to try to bring my tone lower, as this would help me progress.  Angie checked and I was 9 cm dilated...I had started to transition in the car (transition is moving from 8-10cm).  I could feel Simon's head moving around as he tried to position himself to come out.  It hurt like crazy, but I was glad he was moving into position.  By the time I got into the tub I quickly dilated to 10 and the contractions, mercifully, spaced themselves out. 

I felt the urge to push, but did not really like the pushing.  Laboring through transition and throughout the pushing was an experience of extreme vulnerability.  I had to get the baby out, but wasn't sure if I could do it.  I kept asking for help.  Jordan rubbed my back and Angie encouraged me.  Seth held my foot and leg every time I pushed.  Because I pushed so long with Myles and still had to have a c-section, I kept worrying that I was not making progress with the pushing.  Angie and Jordan insisted I was making progress, that everything was just fine and I would meet my baby soon.  When I asked if it was taking too long, they said my body was so smart; it was slowing things down a little so I wouldn't tear. 

After about an hour of pushing, the baby's head began to crown.  I thought it would never come out!  But when he got to the place where his head didn't recede between contractions, I knew I had to get him out because it hurt too much to just leave him there.  Everyone cheered me on to give my biggest push ever, and I did.  Out came his head under the water, and I paused so Angie could check for the cord around his neck.  I didn't think I could push any more, but I had to and so I did, and out came his body.  Angie told me to grab my baby and pull him onto my chest.  I couldn't believe he was out...the relief was incredible.  I pulled him onto my chest and welcomed him into the world with a prayer of thanksgiving, tears of joy, and incredible wonder at this little being.  I told him his name.  I looked him over and comforted him as he cried.

They never took him from me.  I was able to have him on my chest while I delivered the placenta and got stitched up.  Only when we requested that he be weighed did they weigh him (6lbs 10oz) in the room and later they gave me the option of having him cleaned up (the vernix was still on him) and I said yes.  And then he was back in my arms.  It was a hard birth, a little less than 6 hours, but it was exactly what I had hoped for.  He was alert and began to nurse almost immediately.  Amazingly, I didn't feel tired and just wanted to spend time with him.  The rush of natural hormones left me feeling exhilirated and full of gratitude.

The difference in my recovery has been amazing.  I was able to walk right away, to stand and hold Simon to comfort him when he cried.  The swelling left my hands and feet immediately, and my body felt so roomy and good.  At one point I thought it might all be a dream, and I'd wake up to find myself still pregnant.

While Simon's birth was empowering, each birth is truly a miracle.  I could not have done it without the amazing support of my husband, doula, and midwife.  The experience of his birth was one of incredible vulnerability and after it happened I couldn't believe we did it.  I am so thankful for a healthy birth, a beautiful baby, and a strong recovery.

If there are any mamas out there reading this who are hoping and praying for a VBAC themselves, I would highly recommend the following:
Good chiropractic care to ensure optimal fetal positioning.
Visit the spinning babies website and practice the poses and exercises they recommend.
Hire a doula.  It's the best investment you can make and it will affect your outcome.
Enjoy the fact that a second labor is usually shorter...
Make sure your partner/spouse is on board for whatever kind of birth you want, because you will need their support.
Remember that we cannot control our births, we can just do our best to open ourselves to their power, lean forward into labor, and let our bodies do their work.

I am thankful that my body was so smart this time around.  From the many contractions I had before real labor (which got me to 2cm dilated before I went into active labor) to the way I progressed in labor and then the slowing down that happened in pushing, my body knew what it was doing.  My milk came in right on time.  I'm out taking my baby for walks in the October sun every day now; amazed at the miracle of this birth.  Simon, so far, is a peaceful, calm, and content baby.  Perhaps he senses my own contentedness and joy.

What a gift.  God is good.     

Back in the Saddle

Hello friends, my apologies for taking so long to update...you see, Blogger decided to cleverly update their format, which means I can no longer do updates on the computer I use (yes, very strange, my computer is just weird that way and I'm trying not to be bitter about it...).  So now I'm on Seth's computer.  The only problem is that all my pics are stored on my computer, so this update is without a photo.  Sigh.  I'll try to ask Seth to upload some new photos to this computer...who knows, maybe it will happen before I'm done with this post. 

Since I haven't updated in a long time, there's so much to say.  In late spring, I was astounded to find two Easter lilies pushing their way up toward the sun next to our raspberry bushes.  Last year, I had bought two Easter lilies in memory of my dad and my grandma for Easter.  They were beautiful!  They sat on our front porch long past Easter, and one day Myles decided it would be a good idea to plant them.  Without asking, he dug two shallow holes in the ground, put in the plants, and decided to use gravel as backfill.  The lilies already looked a bit rough at that point, and when I stumbled upon them covered in gravel, I confess I was a little sad at how they had been unknowingly abused by an ambitious, unstoppable 4 year old so eager to help.  They promptly died, despite his attentive watering.  That was that.  This year, imagine my surprise when they began to grow up through the soil.  Then they began to bloom.  So just after Easter, we had two full Easter lilies to remind us all spring and summer of my dad and grandma.  I love to see them resting there, perhaps a little too close to each other, because it makes me think of my dad and grandma reunited in the next place.  I think about the closeness they shared that was absolutely unique.  I can hear my dad say in an exasperated voice (with a huge smile on his face): "Mo-om."  He loved my grandma's antics and eccentricities, even as he pretended to be apalled.  And I can hear my grandma saying his name too, with that voice of hers that was unmistakeable each time she answered the phone ("yel-low?").  They loved each other so well, and now I get to enjoy that mother-son love that is such a gift.  If Myles turns out to be half the son my dad was, I'll be one lucky mama.  Now that I'm having a second boy, I guess my chances have doubled...

Seth's been doing his thing, which is winning races, running personal bests (like the 16 minute 5k he ran in Charlotte a few weeks ago) since college, studying voraciously, and continuing to learn in his new job as the manager of Parks' operations.  He is busy, with a lot of weight on his shoulders, and I confess that while this masters' program has been so good for him (an informative dialogue between his every-day work and his topics of study), I'll breathe a sigh of relief when it's done.  Just a year and a half to go. 

I've had the privilege of traveling for pleasure this month.  First I was in Boston for the 2030 Clergy Network retreat, armed with novels my mom gave me for my birthday (I begged for them, I have an incredible hunger for reading this pregnancy).  I found myself all teary at some airport restaurant that first day, just realizing that it's not often that I get time alone to myself to read and think and eat and watch and just be without having any other demands on me.  It was such a gift!  The retreat itself was amazing, as I knew it would be (this is my 3rd 2030 clergy network retreat).  I was reminded of how unique our new church start is, the joy of not having to deal with the heel-dragging, "the way it's always been done," and the typical conflicts that tend to pop up in most established churches.  Sara and I truly do have so much freedom to try new things, to guide new ministries, to change things up that aren't working, and I don't know how we managed to gather around us a community that rarely complains, argues, or pouts.  I know conflict can be a healthy thing, and I fully expect that as we continue to grow older, our community will have some of it, but for now I am enjoying this group of families and individuals who genuinely want to be together, to share power and gifts, to welcome strangers, and to raise our children to love God.  I also got to meet some new colleagues on the trip, to worship with abandon, to do lots of walking, and to spend some quiet time alone. 

Then last weekend I flew into Baltimore and drove with my good friend Liz up to CT for my friend Paul's wedding.  We picked up an old ASP friend, Rebbie, along the way, and got to hang out with other old ASP friends once we arrived (Susan, Jen, and Mark).  I danced like nobody's business, even with this big ole belly.  In some strange way, it's like no time has passed at all with these friends, we can pick up right where we left off even though we aren't all in touch regularly.  It was an incredible privilege to help officiate the wedding.  When I first met Paul years ago at ASP, I remember thinking that we were totally different and probably had nothing in common.  We are totally different, but it's made for a remarkable friendship over the years.  Paul is wise, smart, funny, professional in that New England lawyer kind of way...and I love him dearly.  All of us do, who were at the wedding, and so it was with some trepidation (though we had heard great things about her from Paul) that we met Jill for the first time.  I am so grateful that she is an amazing match for him...she's playful and kind, inquisitive and beautiful, an amazing athlete...and clearly she's in love with Paul.  The weekend was a whirlwind; a precious time that I know will surface in my mind in the months and years to come when I think about the quality of friendships that last over time and beyond life's big milestones. 

Speaking of Mylestones: My mom came to be with Myles while I was in Boston, and she remarked on his growing maturity...just in time for kindergarten!  They have a special relationship, those two, and Myles loves spending time with my mom.  While she was here, she managed to paint several rooms, bake brownies, take him on a picnic, cut his hair, play a round of mini-golf, and cook the boys some meatloaf.  I don't know how she does it.  I've been working with Myles on his letters and writing, and we do some fun science projects and geography adventures during his extra time at home over the summer.  At his preschool graduation, Myles said that he wants to be an international super-spy when he grows up, but then that changed to a robot-repairman and now he's considering becoming a singer.  Lately he's into temporary tatoos, swimming, playing with legos, bike-riding, and disc-golfing.  Recently he made Seth a contraption from his snap-blocks that is "an antique buried in England," but used to be some kind of vehicle, "as big as a whale," that could go in the ocean, fly in space, and also "blast snow" in the arctic.  It contained rooms for 43 people to live there, with a repairman on board in case anything broke.  The rooms contained everything a regular house would, he explained, "even a junk drawer."  Seth proudly displayed it in his office this week. 

The baby's doing fine...moving around a lot, measuring right on according to the midwives.  We found a doula team who will support us during labor, and the next step is moving our rooms around so that the office will be up in the loft, the guest bedroom will move down to where the office is, Myles will move into where the guest bedroom is now, and the baby will have Myles' room for the nursery. 

Well, that's it for now...signing off, and will post pictures later.