With Naked Feet

They come in. They go out.

2011-11-28T19:46:00.000-08:00

Saw a really cute baby on ultrasound. Little belly pushed out, chin tucked just so. Sweet baby hand rubbing it's eye as we took a peek inside it's world for just a moment. Parents already falling so deeply in love...

I had to swallow the lump in my throat. For across town in another house a mother mourns the deepest of deep sadness as she says goodbye to her baby, just days short of the one year birthday.

They come in.

They go out.

I stood a long time and stared at the sliver of a moon tonight. So many questions I don't have answers to. I don't have to know right now. It just is. What is, simply is. We re-evaluate life in times like these. With a shake of guilt we squeeze ours a little tighter. We think about what is or isn't at the end of this journey. We hope. We cling to what we know. We pray to what is.

Again I am brought to that place of awe. I am reminded of the door I can feel open at every birth. They come in. They go out. It's just a door that holds the in between. A door that opens with elemental forces of energy beyond our control. Most the time a Midwife stands on the side of those coming in.

But sometimes not.

She still stands.

She continues to hold space as a guardian of these sacred moments.

While I am not yet a grown Midwife, and I certainly wasn't present for this baby going out, I light a candle tonight, I hold space in love and light and whispered prayers for the soul going home. May the journey be swift. May there be arms to hold you at the other end. I am certain the moments spent here, on this side will always be held most precious by those that had the honor of holding you for just a while.

Gods speed little one.

11/20/2011

2011-11-20T19:43:00.000-08:00

What a neat birthday.

As I drove at 5am this morning down the rainy dark freeway, I, once again, invited my higher power to attend my day. I had many reasons. This would be the first birth that required me to wear my big girl shoes and get a taste of what it's like to be a real midwife in the real world. It would also be my last signed off assisted birth. That's not to say I'm wearing my big girl shoes full time now, nor is it to say I'll never be the assistant again...but it is to say this birth, no matter the end result, was steeped with significance, for me. And, it's a really cool birthday!

I knew no matter what to first find my center. Find that calm presence. I've spent many days unable to center, unable to ground, unable to just. hold.space. My brain runs overtime reviewing vast amounts of material I have studied, rules, guidelines, protocols, standards of practice. I'm a thinker. But, I know that unless I stop and center my energy, all that knowledge means squat.

I managed to center. In fact, I felt a really calm peace over me as I pulled up to the house. Everything went as well as birth can go, and I got to catch the baby with my preceptor standing nearby. My excitement is truly trifold: I finished my assists. My preceptor was amazing in how her teaching was able to shift to the next level. And...Hello!!! I JUST CAUGHT A BABY!

I'm so happy to be moving forward. You'll have to forgive me as I find my way to blog while maintaining my ethics. I cannot and do not want to share any personal information about a client. It's a very fine line, and our community is small. I cannot talk about anything even remotely personal such as gender, baby weight or any details about a birth, which makes it hard to really blog emotions and give you insight as to what it's like to walk in my shoes. I can only say for today...that it was amazing and I am so full of gratitude and joy!

What I carry with me to a birth.

2011-08-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

It was 5am. I was tired. Reviewing the events of the night, the beauty of the mama-baby connection, the experience of simply being at a birth, let alone participating at all. My eyes were tired. The freeway was completely clear of cars, just three lanes straight ahead of me and up a hill. It was like I could drive right up into heaven in my little blue van and say hello. I was chatting with my Creator. Something I often do when I find myself in my empty van, lacking in voices of my little people, just me and the quietness. We meet in times like that you know. Have a little heart to heart.
The sky turned pink. The sun was slowly rising. I thought of my family at home all tucked into bed, soon to be up and about to start their day. I thought of years into the future doing this same drive for a different family, in a different van maybe, in a different situation, maybe no kids left at home tucked into their beds. I don't ever want to lose that feeling. That quiet moment having a heart to heart, full of gratitude and amazement. I don't ever want to outgrow that. I don't ever want to live in fear. I don't ever want to drive home thinking "thank God that worked out okay."

I am not so naive to think that things don't happen at birth for I am a walking example of someone who had "things" happen at her birth. Ollie was a great example of the unexpected and why we learn the life saving skills that we do as Midwives-as student Midwives. It's been brought up more than once lately-Ollie's birth-and what I carry with me from his birth. And it's true, I do carry Ollie's birth with me. I carry his pictures in my purse. But I don't think that it's understood exactly what I carry with me and so I thought it would be a good blog post.

Allow me to elaborate: After the ambulance had come, the men in blue had scooped up my baby boy and carried him in their arms away from me for the sake of his life, my own ambulance came, my own men in blue to get me onto a gurney and into my own ride to the hospital. As we neared the front door, my mom was standing there waiting to hug me, or say something or just watch me go. She felt helpless. She was wringing her hands, her face was swollen from tears and fear...I looked at her straight in the eyes. They paused for a moment so we could speak. I grabbed her hand and we both welled up with tears. Our eyes locked and I felt her feelings, she felt mine, vast emotions passed between us in those moments without a spoken word. And of all the millions of things I could have said at that intense moment I looked at her and said "we. did. everything. right." She nodded and took a deep breath of reassurance and forward we moved on our journey. It's all we had. We didn't have any answers. For all I knew I would arrive to the hospital to a Doc in a white coat holding a clipboard preparing to see my dead baby that they couldn't save. There was nothing else but to look at what we had done and judge it for what it was. And in those moments, everything else is set aside and the truth comes forth. We had done everything right.

I still hold true to that today, I carry those words in my heart. We did do everything right. And thus to me is the purpose of midwifery care. It is doing everything right to the best we know and have and understand. And everything right is so much more than the fact that we immediately gave Ollie rescue breathing, and called 9-1-1, transferred care, did all the emergency protocols that are so important to have in place. But we did every thing right. We grew him in the healthiest pregnancy we knew to create, we planned a home birth, we researched the hell out of pregnancy choices and outcomes, we hired licensed Midwives to watch over us, we bonded with our unborn baby, and we birthed him in the most optimal environment we knew how.

There is so much room for different styles of care and interpretation of "everything right"-hands on, hands off, every little movement that any person makes could be critiqued, but the bottom line is that child was given the best that we knew to give him at that point, and that's all one can give...the best they have-the best skills, the best understanding, the best care, the best experience, the best love. That's what I carry with me every day. That is what Ollie gave to me to hold forever. That is what I strive to improve; each relationship, each skill, each understanding, each moment. I don't live in FEAR everyday wondering if I did my best. I know I do. I give it all, 100% every day, because THAT is what's right.

And ultimately I feel like we continued to do everything right. Consenting to what we had to and what was needed but saying no to other things in the hospital, pushing our limits so we could bring him home sooner, camping out in the hospital parking lot so we could bond and grow closer and get home sooner...all the while processing and integrating by blog, by midwifery care, by family, by prayer. Getting through it all as it unfolded and storing nothing to be processed later. Doing what everyone always says to do...feeling it and walking it at the same time.

You see, Ollie's story doesn't scare me. It inspires me. It's one of the reasons I believe so strongly in midwifery care and so much in the safety of home birth. Beyond the home birth, the care that I received as his mother, allowing me to integrate and process each step of the way gave me an "in the moment" healing. It was like having a therapist walk me through that time of my life as it was happening. I didn't and don't need to hold on to feelings of trauma. I don't need therapy now. I don't need a prescription for anti-anxiety pills because I walk around holding the shadows of hell that haunt me from a horrid experience.

I am grateful for Ollie's birth and the lessons it taught me-which are not about fear. It's all about faith and trust and I am proud and happy to carry it with me every single day. I don't ever want to not carry that with me. It is the essence of what I believe and what I do.

Crossing the halfway line...

2011-06-23T11:44:00.000-07:00

Does that make me half a midwife? LOL! I don't think I'd give myself quite that much of an honor...but academically and almost by skill count I'm half way!

I am pretty excited today. The birth count is growing and I'm currently at 14/20 for my "assists." As the name implies, these are births that I assist at, while learning the role of primary midwife. I've also been working hard attending postpartum appointments for each of those mothers, and prenatals for those still pregnant, learning to advise, observe, listen, feel, and so much more than could be put into words.

If you have ever attended a seminar, short class or even watched a movie loaded with a thick plot you have to pay close attention to...you will know how I feel after each visit to my preceptors practice. I walk away a little shell shocked, but so packed full of information I can only say it was amazing. Forgive me for being short on details.

One thing that was very exciting to me was the beginning of prenatal care for women I will be the primary midwife for...of course under my preceptors supervision. My teachers have never taken a student this far. They weren't sure how to proceed or what it looks like. It seems simple enough, a woman comes in for care and I would act as her primary midwife. But, it's not that simple. One of the great qualities of midwifery care is the fact that a midwife is continuous in her care for a woman, they build a relationship, a friendship, a mutual trust and understanding. This relationship is crucial in midwifery. So how does a student, who still needs some guidance step into that role? Further more...when a prospective client, new into her pregnancy looks at a website, or seeks out a midwife and is referred to this practice, they likely were not referred to me (boy my ego would explode on that one right?!) so how do we fit my little student self into that role? My preceptors have had to ask other local midwives who've turned out students how to proceed-what they did, what works, what doesn't. It's been a round and round discussion but we seem to have figured it out. Well, for the most part.

I did a first prenatal for my first primary this week. She's actually a repeat client but was willing to allow me to do primary care for her. I'm sure each client that comes that I will primary for, I will step even more into the role. It's not quite as black and white as it seems on paper where one birth you're an assistant and then boom you're primary for the next. There's a lot of overlap, and "teenage midwife-hood" But, that's good. This isn't a process that should be done with massive pressure. It's not just about memorizing technique and practicing it over and over like shooting a basketball at a hoop. It's an art. It requires skill, creativity and a touch from above to get it just right. I'm so grateful that I'm with a practice where my teachers have amazing skills in bringing out the best of their students. They foster enough self-confidence mixed with challenge to make learning optimal.

The nice thing about the practice I'm with and the commitment we've made to each other is that I will be staying under the wings during my third year. I will be licensed by then, but I will be considered a third year student...and hopefully can actually earn some money that year too. This feels good to me, that the pressure of counting birth numbers and getting them signed off, finishing academic studies, and balancing home and work...with no pay...will be relieved. I will be able to focus solely on the art of this work, and on more specific skills that aren't necessarily used at every birth. A chance to hone in some things. It is also a great plan for my preceptors who can then legally allow me a little more freedom as I will then be licensed, but they are not cutting me loose. (not that I will want that just yet) I'm still supervised and "still living at home" so to speak so they are there, which feels safe to all of us...and really, safety comes first.

This week I also sat through a three hour class with so many great couples that I've gotten to do the same with over the last few months. It was awesome to watch my teachers teach their families and be included in that time. Afterwards we did a couple prenatals.

It felt really good last night to solo a little bit. I sat on the exam table with a mama and we talked about GBS, we talked about vitamin K and eye ointment options for her new baby that's coming in a few short months. I filled out lab slips and had them looked over but no corrections were needed. I charted. I felt a sweet unborn baby who was anxious to show me his/her little knees and thighs. I got to reassure a mama who was feeling low pressure and achy-ness as she rounded the corner of the end of pregnancy. But I gotta say my favorite part was the end of the visit. We locked eyes for a second and that sister like energy flowed briefly...we both felt it, and grinned before we hugged and then her and her sweet hubby went about their night alone. It's amazing to have that connection that I have never experienced in any other kind of care setting...and this wasn't even her birth...that is still to come.

Speaking of births...no one is due until the end of July. It's a nice break considering I did 6 births in May (and postpartum care afterwards). I'm going camping this weekend with my sweet soul sister Jazz and her family. Her sons birth was the first home birth I attended (other than my own). And then July starts. And the last of my assists...and the start of my primaries. For today, I'm going to pause. I'm going to bask in my progress and be grateful for all the help-earthside and heavenside-that has gotten me this far. For a Higher Power that continues to show me that this is my path. For each sweet mama that has graciously allowed me to assist her during her most sacred moments in life...from waterbirths, to an amazing couch birth with the sweet baby still in the caul...each one holds such a special place in my heart and I can finally see how my midwife can meet a mama that she hasn't seen in 8 years and smile will slowly spread across her face. She remembers. She holds sacred these moments too.

~Basking in blessings...
RF

Loving the past. Giving thanks for the journey.

2011-05-21T13:58:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to do homework. Baby girl is sleeping. The house is quiet. I'm sitting at my desk, sunlight streaming in the back door, warm cup of coffee sitting next to me while I stare at question number 55 of 143. I want to get done by Monday. But my mind keeps drifting...it gets easier every year, but it's still there. And, in many ways I'm glad it is. I don't want it to ever go all the way away. I know there's a purpose. Big events leave scars. Scars are reminders. The body's way of reminding us that something hurt and we should prevent it from happening again, or simply be good to that spot.

I will never forget her words. As vivid as his birth is in my mind, the words of the woman in the lab jacket ring forever more in my ears...Your son is VERY sick. We are not yet sure of what is wrong with him. We cannot say if he will live. You need to prepare yourself that whats coming may not be what you hope for...it's locked in. That room, the social worker holding my hand, my husband sitting in stunned silence, the nurse scribbling notes. She went on to talk of all his organs that were shutting down, his medications, monitors, machines, and scariest of all his brain. Silent by all monitoring and understanding. Where was he in there?

I didn't understand the implications. And it took me a long time to grasp reality of what all went down in the following days. I just pumped milk all hours day and night and fell in love. Regardless of what would become of him, and the logic that said to guard my heart...I just loved him. And his dad told me he didn't care what we walked away with. He would love him. No matter what. Our marriage changed. Our understanding of family changed. This was the "in sickness" part of the wedding vows of parenthood. We both voiced our commitment in the lonely sleepless hours that dark first night.

We lived in the private world that is non-existent to people who've never walked it. My baby and I. And what I barely recognized in the midst of it all was what was happening in other rooms, in other buildings. Entire churches prayed...for his life, for his spirit, for me. Strength, wisdom, healing through the hands of any that could touch him. People uncountable to me...for my sweet little bruised baby who lay perfectly still on that tiny table. I stroked his feet and spoke heart to heart, for if I parted my lips the tears would come so hard that words could not even be whispered.So I prayed he would feel my love, and just know what I could not voice aloud. And I believe he did. So much grace surrounded our lives. More than I think anyone will ever fully understand.

And late at night when I was exhausted and finally surrendered to the long drive home, lugging breast pump along with me, in the rain, while Enya sang her life song between us...others would arrive to hold vigil by his bed. He was rarely alone. Grandmother with lips who can whisper in God's ear and straight to his heart pleading for his life and blessing his head with scripture...and his Midwives...who signed in at the desk late at night and early in the morning and laid hands on him. Hands that have safely ushered in hundreds of souls. Hands that are used to spending late nights awake and aware. Hands that God uses as His own. Hands that have a wisdom all of their own. Placed on his little body, asking him to come in full force, supporting his desire to fight for life, here, earth side. And he did. Slowly at first. Unsure. And then full speed.

The months of hospital we were promised rapidly turned to weeks and with a little fight...days. And we left. We left with a black eyed, full spirited, perfectly perfect baby boy and a story that is packed full of testimony-to God, to Midwives, to homebirth, to Grandparents who aren't afraid to cry out, to friends far and wide-known and unknown who agreed with whatever energy, faith or denomination they believe in that this little one would not only survive but thrive. A sweet soul boy united them all.

He lays on the couch today. His watches his favorite shows and winds down for an afternoon nap, peacefully sucking his paci, and grinning when I peep around the corner at him. I think back to three years ago today and those awful words no mother wants to hear. He walked through coals...my own little everyday miracle.

He carries scars of his own. A pic line dot on his inner ankle. Scars on his heels from lancets for repeated blood sugar testing. I've come to love them. The story they remind me of, that we shared as a mama-baby unit. The place here on earth where we came together in ways that are almost impossible to explain in words. In all the terror and pain, there was a magic there. Gratitude beyond words. And a love that is deeper than any, that only a mother could understand. Love from a mama that even I didn't know could be so strong.

I hold his truths in my heart as a student Midwife. I have such faith in what these mama's and babies can overcome. I have deep understanding of the skills of Midwives and I strive to be the best I can be for these families. When I come home from assisting at a birth little Ollie smiles at me, climbs up onto my lap and asks me through his binky. "I was born today?" I understand his own little language. I tell him yes, a baby was born today, and it's a happy sweet little baby. "I was born in the water?" he asks. Usually I answer yes, but sometimes not. He doesn't seem to mind whatever my answer is...he just nods his head in approval and runs off.

This all changed me, as most trauma does to one. The entire course of my life. And while I look back sometimes with tears or with a bit of a cringe at what we endured, I wouldn't change it. Not one bit of it. It strengthened my understanding and faith. It laid the groundwork. It was my desert that started the path to the oasis. It's a scar that I know to always be good to, and good things will come back. And I am so grateful, that it was Ollie, and it was me, his strong family and gifted midwifes...and it was an incredible ocean of souls uniting for his life.

Happy third birthday, you amazing, complete miracle. Oliver George Payton.

New digs in our old stomping grounds...yay, we moved!

2011-05-01T16:22:00.000-07:00

We moved. My family and me. It was a while in coming. To be honest it was a little bit bittersweet. My sweet Ollie was born in that house. He came home to that house. And two years later...ironically this month...my sweet baby Lilah came along. My journey as a writer began then and there. My dreams of Midwifery were planted in that place. But it was not in the plans to root there forever. I also find it interesting and odd that we would return to these duplexes...woodsy, earthy, but I have a whole different love for them than before...for many different reasons. We are three doors down from our home of four years ago. When I was in nursing school. When our children numbered three. When my dreams were different and my heart still longed for more. I return full. Full of family. Eyes opened and hungry for more. Heart so incredibly full and ready to give my everything.

There will be a birth tonight. At least that's what I think. I'm not always right though, but I think very soon that one of the mama's I'm ready to attend as an assistant is very close to her time. It's a new moon tomorrow. The moon does have a sway on these things.

I feel peace today. And a calm joy. Sometimes I sit in complete gratitude and absolute wonder...amazed. I think to myself, what did I do to get to walk this path? What did I do that the Creator of the Universe loves me so very much and blessed me with this journey? Sometimes it seems big, and frustrating, and so unorganized and haphazard. But in the still of my living room, babies napping, a soft breeze blows through the trees surrounding my new home and in through the open window...and I hear the truth. I smile to myself and open my books yet again. Steal a few moments to soak in wisdom as ancient as life itself. it's so mystical the whole thing. And here I am smack in the middle of it. Often without words to describe this place. Sometimes I feel like the awkward scribe in the middle of a frantic furry of a dream, writing and absorbing everything around me, trying to make sense of it all but simply along for the journey. That's the part where they say this is a calling. A calling from something bigger than me...

And so I come.

My third. But who's counting?

2011-01-26T12:40:00.000-08:00

It was dark, and late. Children's soft breathing could be heard in the distant rooms if one walked close enough. The house is brought to a stand still. The lighting is dim, almost too dark to navigate over the thick area rugs and around the large pottery standing guard near open entryways and staircases. I find myself standing in a hallway, silent and motionless, frozen in time. An electric blue light flashes for a moment and my own daughter can be seen at the end of the hall, on a makeshift bed of blankets and jackets. Sweet 7 month old...drooling, limp with heavy sleep and in bliss.

My daughter is at one end...and all along the hallway are huge windows, uncovered by draperies, like giant expensive paintings on the wall. This house on the hill overlooks a small valley that on this night is covered in dark, furious clouds. Grey and shades of smoke hang low over the town. Very few lights are on. Rain pours and beats down upon the windows, changing the canvas in front of me as I stare, motionless, listening with every fiber of my being. For a moment light from a Kingdom beyond seems to crack through the dark abyss below and another jolt of blue light flashes in the hallway.

I would seem the stranger, intruding in someones home, caught in the dark in a hallway with instant adrenaline. But I'm not. I'm a fly on the wall, no one is going to catch me here, not now-they dare not leave that room. And so I am the stranger in the hallway, watching the doorway above open for a few moments, witnessing the act of holding space, the most sacred duty of those that teach me.

It was an odd moment, but completely palpable. That moment just before. A rumble, a jolt of lightening, a rustle from my daughter at one end of the hall and a smile spread across my face. The water stopped sloshing, the carpet shushed from hurried rustling beyond the door inches away from me. A grandmother gasped, and then he cried. Echoing the storm with intensity and purpose, lusty and loud he announced his safe passage. And then they all cried...journey complete, space held open, now allowed to slowly close. It was as if for a moment if I looked up hard enough at those clouds I would see those already gone from this place, like I had a minute to say hello to whatever was beyond, the love held open was big enough to encompass all of it, here and there. But I just stood there, frozen with socked toes becoming one with the carpet, eyes fixed on the storm and ears drinking in health and joy.

The door opened and in I was pulled to learn my part and help with clean up. My heart sang as I put hands to work, grateful for the very privilege of simply bearing witness. Welcome earthside baby. Sweet baby boy.

Tides must turn...

2010-12-22T14:26:00.000-08:00

I recently had to choke on the words "allow." "When a Doctor allows..." was the specific phrase. It made me angry that a Doctor should have such power to allow or not allow. It made me angry that women give Doctors that power. But then it made me sad. They don't know better. I didn't. I thought my Doctor was merciful in allowing me to be induced two weeks early. I didn't know the dice I was rolling. I had no idea the complications that could have come my way by being in fear of other complications. I was weighing bad against bad and didn't even know it. I never knew of this other world, that was not only physically safe but had a level of mental and emotional sanity and beauty that I never knew....let alone knew I needed it.

I took me years to look at something different. I had to hurt. I had to be so hurt that I had to admit that maybe I had taken part in that. Maybe I had been neglectful and lazy on my own part for not looking at other choices. I didn't take responsibility into my own hands. I created a being by my own choices in a dark room with my partner and then ran to another man for rescue. He reached inside of me, he felt outside of me, he scanned and prodded and touched in ways that only my spouse should have the privilege of. But I didn't know better. I thought I was doing what was best for my baby. But the wall I had to put up to be touched and handled put another wall up against the being inside of me. It wasn't fair to that baby. It wasn't fair to me. I didn't know I could have stayed in the sanctity of my own body, it never occurred to me that birth was designed to work with minimal intervention. Why would we be created to need so much help to further our species? Even animals have better outcomes...

I had to admit it hurt. I had to stop defending what I thought was a credible decision. I had to admit there was a hole there, even if I didn't fully understand why or how or what to do. I've had to hurt over those choices. Sure in the end I have live and relatively healthy babies...but...it's not the best.

Somewhere along the line we got told that hospitals where were babies come into the world. We ignored where we have come from for millions of years. We ignored basic laws of nature and life. We closed our eyes to the harm we were doing. Babies don't know. Babies don't remember. Babies don't communicate. We are doing what's best for them. But...are we? Have we asked? Have we even tried? We went aggressive and then tried to back off and mellow out and it sucks.

America ranks number 40 in our outcomes for birth. Forty countries birth better than we do. Forty. I could see five. Maybe ten if we count the tiny little countries too...but forty? Ouch. Our C-Section rate is averaged at 33%. Some areas rank as high as 80%. Of 10 moms in America 3 are guaranteed C-Sections. Everyone can scold that C-Sections scheduled for a date or a convenience are wrong. What about ones that are scheduled out of fear of a maybe? This baby maybe too big? Your blood pressure maybe too high? Seems reasonable...until you ask what else can be done...

Is induction because of size reasonable? A vaginal birth means I have escaped judgment in my parenting. So hook up the drugs and meds but God please let it come out my vagina...because it's not a C-Section it's the right thing. Right?

What happens when we take our hands off? What happens when we as friends and family and doctors and well wishers and well forcers and ...what if we. just. stop. What if we take a mothers hands and place them on her own belly? What if we look at her as normal and ask her what she wants. What if we trust a process that has been trusted since the beginning of time...of life...what if we actually admit that maybe a mother knows her body and her baby and very rarely does true intervention need to happen?

I had a 9 pound 3 ounce baby. He was induced because he was so big. They poked and prodded. They robbed me of time I will never get back, they robbed us of our birth moment...because they were scared. I went home more emotionally traumatized than any birth emergency could have left me. And what was worse was there was no one there to help me heal that. Just me and this estranged baby. Left to our own we figured it out...left to our own.

I later had a 9 pound 5 ounce baby. My husband caught her. She came straight to my chest. No one took our time away. She was so healing. But I first had to open my eyes to the facts. It was like a 12 step program. Perhaps thats what America needs to turn this tide of trauma and abuse on our mothers and babies.

Step One; Admit that I allowed someone else to hurt me, and my baby. I had a part in that.

Step Two; It hurt. I honor that pain. I cried with it. I was sad. I did lose something. A dream, a trust, a truth...

Step Three; Decide to change it. For me. For someone else. If I reach one baby, in spite of much fear and resistance from those who have yet to take step one...if I help one baby, if I help one mother heal...then it's worth it. If I can help one pregnancy be safer...one baby can come into it's mother's arms... One baby can stay with the only world it has ever known. One baby can come to life without tears...then I will not stop. One mother can feel that moment of truth that words cannot explain...Well then, I will speak. I will try. I will learn. I will teach. I will reach.
Then she can say what I did. I did this. I helped make this. See my sweat? This...belongs...to me...to us...it is ours. It is sacred.

Please stop "saving" our mothers. Start protecting them.

More bellies...

2010-12-17T20:45:00.000-08:00

Here are some of my favorite pregnant belly pictures!

I love the bows. I think they are so cute. There are some really creative pregnancy pictures out there now. It makes me wish I'd have caught a few snapshots or had some professionally done. For now I love these...just had to share some belly love. More later I'm sure....

Inspired

2010-12-03T11:45:00.000-08:00

I have a serious belly addiction. I know. I know!

I cannot plan on getting myself in this state anytime soon, as it will greatly hinder my ability to be around so many others in this state. So I will share with all of you some of my belly love...see I'm more interested in belly quantity right now, not producing my own. And, it's not the cute little babies I keep seeing that have me loving my choice of career and enjoying school...no, it's really not. It's the smooth skin and curvatures, the almost magical way a womans body works to keep a baby alive and bring it forth to this earth. It's the way I have learned to literally see the "ripeness" just from looking at masses of bellies day by day. Please don't think of this as sexual, because it's really not. I'm being straightforward...it's amazing to me and the most beautiful thing. It's the closest we can get to watching a Creative Being work on making a living person.

If you get nothing more from this post...because I understand that not everyone is in love with pregnancy and bellies and sweet newborns (I'm sure those posts will come soon enough)... then at least as a fan following my blog, you can smile knowing that I am so incredibly happy and absolutely in love with my calling. I feel more alive and more joyful than ever in my life. Ever. Really. I keep thinking sooner or later this will wear on me, and I will be tired of it and doubtful of my choice. I'm not. I'm more in love with this stuff than when it was a seedling of an idea 3 years or so ago.

Just wanted to share. I walk into this holiday season very full in spirit.

Neonatal Resucsitation.

2010-11-09T22:42:00.000-08:00

So. I went to the most phenomenal class today. Not only about resuscitation with respect to the child and his/her space and dignity, but also about birth-dignity at birth, allowing natural process of birthing, recovery and bonding...so much packed information.

A topic that intrigued me immensely was on communication. Allowing a child to have it's own space in it's body and listening to what the cries are. There are needy cries (I'm hungry, tired, bored, wet, constipated etc) and there are story cries. Babies need to "debrief" their day or their experiences just as much as adults do. How many times do moms tell and retell their birth stories? In short-they tell them until they are heard. Literally until someone stops to actually listen, a mom will retell. She needs to be heard. And so do the babies. If a child is not heard, they will retell over and over. They will continue to try until they have the vocabulary to tell. Most times by then the parents are "over" the birth...but the child may still have yet to process it.

All this swam in my head today. We did a quick postpartum check on a mom on the way home, talked about other aspects of class, how fascinating it all was. Some of it was a little too ...extreme? But most of it were good theories, many with data to back them up (my kinda research!) And we could have talked for hours about it all...well, I think we kinda did on that long drive home.

At any rate, my return home begged a little research of my own and after I hugged and kissed everyone, got some kids tucked in bed and things had settled down to dim lights and little Ollie was curled up on my lap...I began to gently ask him questions. I wanted to share with you how it went and what I learned...

Me: Ollie. (eye contact) Do you remember when you were in mama's tummy?
Ollie: Yup.
Me: Oh. Do you remember coming out of mama's tummy?
Ollie: Yup.
Me: You do?! Wow! Where were you?
Ollie: I un know. (I don't know-don't sounds like "unt")
Me: Hmmm. (I paused here because I didn't want to lead him on by asking if it was in the water or any thing like that. I wanted to hear what his brain came up with all on his own.)
Ollie points to the ceiling and says "I was flying."
(I kid you not.) I lifted one eyebrow. "That's quite amazing Ollie. How were you flying honey?"
Ollie: My placenta.
That's the first time he has said "placenta" and not "centa" and I am now very intrigued as to how a placenta makes one fly...
He points to the light fixture above the dining room table. "The placenta mama" he says matter of factly.

Now when I look up I can see how the dining room light is sorta like a centa...well it hangs from one of those chains like so many dining room lights. The ones that hang over the kitchen table where you would gather to eat...Okay, so I could see that being a umbilical cord and the glowy light like a placenta life force supplying nutrients and comfort. I have some imagination. But what was shocking here, was that he knew nothing of my day, where I was, what I had learned. I certainly wasn't discussing placentas and cords in front of him at all. How amazing is that?

But...that's not all! Here's that part that blew my mind. I made sure that I "heard" him. I acknowledge his discussion weather I understood it all or not. I told him I was SO glad he was here and had made it through that and was safe in my arms. We hugged and snuggled while Lilah was tucked into her own bed...I was free to belong to just him for a minute and we both treasured it!

I went to tuck him into bed. Hug. Kiss. I love you Oliver George...more than all the stars.

He then points to the ceiling in his room. He looks to me and says so calmly and informative...."mama, it was too big. It was too big up dare so I camed down."

????????!!!!!!!!!!!!! (jaw dropped off right here)

Keeping my composure externally I kissed his forehead softly. "I'm glad you camed down here Ollie. I wanted you to be here. I'm so glad you're all done up there where it's too big and we can be together."

His smiled crept out the edges of his paci.

I don't know if he will still throw his toys and randomly scream for no apparant reason. I don't know if our talk had some magical healing power for a repressed birth trauma he hasn't gotten to communicate. I don't know all that for sure. I'm still learning. But I do know it was pretty amazing to see and hear what a two year had to say about his own birth. And for me...it was pretty darn healing and VERY validating.

I happen to also learn neonatal CPR and rescue breathing stuff today. Oh...and meet some really really fascinating Midwives! They are my people now too and I was so happy to just be present let alone doing some learning and crossing things off the "to do" student checklist.

I'll close with this. I got to do some prenatal's the other day and one of the little girls that was attending with her mama, looked at her mom at one point and asked if the wood mice were going to give her something to do at the birth. I looked at one of the midwives with questioning eyes. ("She calls us the wood mice"-K explained to me...how cute is that?)

Good night from the land of wood mice. :)
RF

Hiccup

2010-09-22T22:17:00.000-07:00

A minor hiccup but worth mentioning...I guess? I changed schools. I am filling out enrollment application paperwork this week, should be able to be officially enrolled by the cut off date in November and classes start in Jan. 2011. Seems a ways off, but I am certain it's worth it. It will be three (intense) years. I think the quality of education at this school is a bit better, it seems less like a "hurry up and rush through it" type of place. I'm not in a huge hurry. Don't get me wrong, I want to be a Midwife so bad I can taste it....perhaps that's not such a good analogy. Oh well, you thought what I meant...I just think that quality is best at this point. I will be exposed to a variety of instructors for each of the academic classes, but will still be able to "apprentice" (do the hands on learning) under my own "preceptor"...which I would love to do under my favorite midwives :)

I will also have to use some other preceptors because they really stress that you learn a variety of styles and techniques and not get all your info from one small set of people. I agree-although I wish I could just follow my midwives around like some sort of rock band junkie hanging on their every word. I think they'd eventually get sick of me and make me go home-at least to shower or something.I am learning to slow down, absorb ALL of the available lessons around me and strive to become a midwife of competence, confidence and quality.

So in the meantime, I've been studying the brazen women of California. There's some good reads there if you are ever interested in some really cool history-related to midwifery and home birthing of course! Here's a link for those that are google impaired: Brazen Women of California

What else...knitting of course. I tie dyed a bunch of new cloth diapers-they came out oh so cute! I'm knitting up some super soft merino wool longies to go with to put on my hyenacart website....more links for the peeps with google issues: Knit Picky

Further more, I am on night number FIVE of sleep training my two year old. I still call him my toddler. Are two year olds toddlers? He will always be my baby. He is fast getting the hang of putting himself to sleep. The night time wakings are getting fewer and fewer, he's learning to put himself back to sleep. I surely don't let him cry, but I just can't lay down with him and wait for sleep to grace him-which can take an hour or more...I had to get him to lay alone a little bit and sure enough he puts himself to sleep now within 20 minutes. He was ready to break the tie a bit. (this is all the while he is teething his molars mind you!)

And now a little princess needs some help falling asleep...so I'm off to answer.
Night night Internet land. Night night.

I love them so, I do...

2010-09-18T14:44:00.000-07:00

Full Circle

2010-09-11T00:09:00.000-07:00

My sweet baby girl drifts off to sleep. Her breath so sweet on my cheek as I hover just a moment and nuzzle her soft skin. I breathe deep, inhaling that sweet smell that lingers but a moment before they grow up overnight. She is so gentle, so lovey, oh so baby...and I thank God for one more day. I thank God in selfishness as I think of the mommy tonight who mourns her baby boy. Fresh from the gathering of family mourning his passing, I thank God I do not have to wait my entire lifetime to meet my baby in Heaven again. She is here, under my cheek, warm and soft and pink and I can whisper in her ear how hugely massive I love her. She suckles her bottom lip, nursing in her dreams, content and unaware of how amazing her little life really is.

I think again of Ollie. Ollie that came as close to death as one can get...and now toddles around my house, throwing his binky at the cat because she won't hold still to let him pet her. He pulls her fur out and yanks her tail, I cannot blame her for running away, but he does, he blames her and he chases her raging mad at not getting his way. A man of determination he truly is.I am so sad for this mommy that I think I can literally feel my heart cracking for her. I selfishly think to myself that I am so glad I am not her. I want so badly to take away her pain, but I clutch my own littles so tight and tears stream down my face. "Thank you God. Thank you God for one more day, one more moment, one more hug one more soft breath upon my cheek." What more can I say or feel? It's so close to home.

This week I had the honor of watching a sweet family be born. First baby, a little boy. Baby "J". It was quite a huge blessing to me, being a newly born student myself to not only observe but actively participate in the labor, birth and postpartum time. I even got to use the family's video recorder to film the moments of his arrival as they wanted. I had miss Lilah with me and she slept on my shoulder as I captured the birth. I was truly multitasking in many ways.

I watched her struggle with the strong intense contractions. I was there not so long ago myself. I sang the labor song, the low tonal Ooohhhs that take the sharp edge off the pain. The walking, rocking, bouncing, the urgency in wanting the pain to stop and the baby to be born. The need for women around me to step into my place of Labor and help me. Find me in this far off land and tell me I am not alone and you not only are present but you feel with me. Tell me how to cope with this amazing transformation that is so deep and intense.

My eyes welled with tears as I watched the young girl fade and the woman emerge. She has a tattoo with a tribal scribe type boarder on her lower back. Deep in the dark pool the light from the candles dances on her smooth skin floating out of the water. She is in the pool I birthed my own babies in. The pool of birth that many mothers before have done the same dance in as they became women too. She is on hand and knees, rocking, dancing, moaning, singing to her unborn baby as he floats below her. She is no longer a little girl, innocent from the pains it takes to grow into a woman. She is now aware of the strength it takes to be a mother. She has the energy to fight for her baby, and she is. She crosses the finish line and he finally emerges into her own arms, slimy and wet, with a small coo of life and she grins ear to ear. She is a woman. She is a mommy one hundred percent and then some! I laugh with her joy and a lump wells in my throat at the absolute beauty of this entire family now in the pool, daddy too, supporting her from behind as he greets his baby boy with the softest voice. His son. They are amazing-a family-all three...

And at the same time on another side of the same circle of people around me a single mommy grasps for strength as she plans around the death of her son. Surrogate family hold her close and take her as their own as she navigates territory not meant for a mother to have to journey. A viewing. Cremation. A small gathering to celebrate the life cut short for reasons yet unknown.

A little life he was, here so briefly, but yet so full to every moment. He was a whole bouquet of flowers and not just a single bloom. A shooting arrow in birth and death. He was everything baby and ran full speed...crawling at five months old...and stopping suddenly in his peaceful sleep last Sunday morning. Someone explained at the reception gathering how an artist will often have a need to draw the focal point of a painting or sculpture to one particular area. They have a point to make, and need for the viewer to notice something and so they will draw the attention by using contrasting colors and brush strokes. Sharp or fuzzy, dark or light...and that's what sweet little baby A was... a beautiful vibrant contrast that one could not help but take in. When he came to my door I had to look a moment longer for he was not just another baby (believe me, I've seen my share)...they are all cute, but this little boy had an old soul behind his eyes and he would meet you, pupil to pupil... and then after a moment of serious consideration he would grin ear to ear. Your heart would melt, his feet would kick and you had an instant best friend, drool and all. His mother truly had the blessing of not only meeting but getting to fall in love with and know so personally her own guardian angel.

One mommy was pushing her baby earth side with all her heart, might and soul as another was giving her heart to Heaven attached to the soul of her baby boy... One mommy held a key chain necklace with his first shoes attached to remember him, and another picked out a blue pair pants with little feetsies on the end to warm him...surrounded by family, they both stopped for but a moment if not more and truly understood the sweetness of life.

I stood tonight, in a circle of stranger-friends and sang to this mother a sweet song of support. Tears rolled down and as I looked to Heaven the last of the sunlight danced on the bright green leaves of the trees, playing a little tickle game with the wind, it disappeared toward the horizon and I gave thanks for the moment I got to be touched by baby A's little spirit and the reminder he gave me about what is most important...

So then I talked to my mom tonight. Over two hours we spent, catching up on details and stories. Little things we had missed filling each other in on since our summer has been so full. Laughing and crying. It was a wonderful decompression. She was telling me about a bible study she is doing and how they are learning the most important lessons about life are about life. She, like the Author of the workbook she is currently studying has a fascination with the beauty and mystery of old graveyards. One of the things that always catches his eye is the dates of the gravestones. It's pretty simple. A few small words if any at all and then a set of dates. A name. A beginning. An end. That's it. The only thing in between is a simple small dash.

Yet isn't the dash the most important part?

I learned this week. I learned many things. But I think my favorite lesson came to me on the wings of an angel named "A" in the bathroom of the newly formed woman-mommy "J" set in deep by the lips of my own mother.

"Make your dash count."

Give thanks for every minute you have. Kiss them one extra time. Don't go to bed mad. Sing your own growing up song, however you want to sing it. And Love.

Once again I am reminded and inspired by own little mantra given to me again in fresh light...(or candle light if you will-cause God talks to me like that)

Love never fails. It just doesn't. It is always worth it...it's worth it to love and create life and lovingly let go when giving thanks in death. It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. We'll take it-no matter how short.

Love.

Heartbreak

2010-09-07T14:17:00.000-07:00

A tiny little life. Still fresh and new with baby smells. Kicking and playing and lighting up the room with a joyous grin from ear to ear. Little dimples and wavy brown hair as silky as a baby bunny's fuzz. The sucking smacking as he found comfort in his tiny little fingers and worked his way to a sweet slumber. Little toes and little soft feet.

How does one say goodbye to such a small life? How does one witness the miracle of birth and then have to watch life disappear on another?

It's part of the profession. But things like this do not stay in the profession. It's not always someone else's baby, someone elses story, someone else's life and pain. Sometimes it hit's so close to home-to friends-to family.

My heart aches today for the sweet spirit that now blesses Heaven with radiance unmet here on earth. I feel broken for his mother. There are not words one can say to express the sorrow. Nothing can comfort. I know to well that raw, open, and unrelenting sorrow. It's an ache so deep that silence is the only respect acceptable.

Again I am reminded to hold my precious children so close. To not rush so fast that I forget to cherish every moment. Stop and love and let it sink in really deep to every little crevice of my heart. Let it fill in every break and crack that has ever left it's mark. Thank the Lord for every moment he ordained that I get to be me and hold them dear. I long for Heaven, for the days when we all have made our way to our eternal home and sorrow can reach us no more. Fear of death will be banished and all our tears dried away.

Today I mourn with my friend. A tiny little boy. I can only ask my God to hold him extra close and offer those of us left behind, full of confusion and sorrow some peace, some comfort...the strength to move forward one more moment at a time.

Why I want to be a Midwife.

2010-08-27T09:52:00.000-07:00

Part of an initial assignment. The intention was to make us really consider and think. Some make the mistake of saying "I just love cuddly babies"...you have to have more reason than that...here's mine:

I think, like many aspiring midwifes my reasons are many...
My main desire to become a midwife comes from the passion and downright excitement that I feel for the massive amounts of information and research I have gathered and stored over the past few years. Bits and pieces of goodness float around my thoughts and computer. Homebirth, health statistics, normal body functions, breastfeeding, nutrition, herbal remedies, prevention, homeopathy, natural living and so much more.

I am eager to share, desperate to learn more, organize and add to this vast growing knowledge. There is no end to learning as a midwife. That alone draws me like a desert animal is drawn to water. The truth is that a midwife never stops learning. They never know it all. There is always room for growth. Inspiring and humbling at the same time.

I want to pass on and pay forward the gift of midwifery, what it does to a woman, what it speaks to the soul and heart, the questions it answers that many women don't even realize they are asking. The hole it fills, the link it connects to things much greater than just a physical body.

It is a safe shelter. It is the answer yes. It is hope, a path. There is nothing in the world like watching a woman step back, lift her head, look around her and decide to ask "why?" She learns, she researches, she instinctively wants more than what is most commonly offered these days. It's more than how she and her baby are "handled"...it's a craving for a relationship.

I want to be a part of the change of how society thinks, views, feels and manages womens bodies from puberty to menopause. I want to see true informed consent, encouragement, embraces, faith and trust from care providers. I want to see confident, unafraid, determined women that do not feel they need to be "saved" from a normal life event like birth. For the sake of my blog I will add here that I am aware and do feel that the medical field is necessary in some events, each person has a role...I just do not believe normal bodily events need to be hospitalized and managed by specialty trained surgeons. (more on that later)

I love when a woman takes responsibility for herself and her family and her care providers take the role of a safety net-offering encouragement and information. Like many mothers, Midwifes hold many roles: teacher, librarian, cheerleader, mother, sister, friend, guardian, counselor and more. It is already a huge part of me and for that alone I cannot walk away. I want always to be a part of this. I want to hold these truths sacred and guard this art and the women who are drawn to it. Further more, I want to pass it on...

In the beginning...

2010-08-26T08:18:00.000-07:00

We sat there round robin. Four women, two midwives, and two babies...a 10 week old little guy and our little Lilah Rose. We started at 6 and went into the night. It was the same room I sat, stunned and amazed as a gathering of many many local midwives joined together in one room to go over each others cases and ultimately discussed Oliver's birth that night...how we handled it, what had gone wrong with his health, why, and if there was anything that could be done differently...

But last night, it was different. I sat with a different baby in my arms. Her eyes were not still bruised-they never have been. She was fat and pink and nuzzled into me as we all chatted and shuffled paperwork and pens around the room. I bounced her and patted her and watched her smile and join our conversation with excited coo's and energy that straightened her body stiff from head to toe then exploded in a zest of happy kicking and chuckles. She is every part normal and healthy.

And I am happy to say that I am every part student midwife. I will graduate with an Associates of Science in Midwifery. An actual degree to hang on the wall. An official licensed midwife in the state of California. I have a lot of work to do before then, but it was a pretty big deal to be able to drive home once again labeled "student."

In short, we facilitated a "study group." A group of women (four of us) committed to at least three months of study once a week under the supervision of a local midwife. We will be inviting in several local midwifes to "oversee" and contribute to our weekly discussions. There are several texts-oh my gosh the reading and studying is massive. My poor knitting needles will be sorely missed. As I am able I will get to do "hands on" skills. Ability will really at this point depend on my own children's needs and if clients of my preceptor (overseeing midwife) are okay with me bringing Lilah Rose for a needed hands on day. For example-basic starting point: I need to observe some prenatal exams, observe some births and eventually do like a belly measurement on a mama or a blood pressure reading as we learn these things-each thing I do is overseen/taught by my preceptor and signed off. There's a huge list of numbers of things I must do first as an observer then slowly working my way into the "primary caregiver" role. As I am able I can climb that ladder and get my numbers signed off. In the meantime there are tons of books I have to read and study and answer more questions than I have ever seen in my life-then bring all that knowledge, weekly, to study group to mix, mingle and combine with other students as well as allow our overseer to feel confident that we have the material understood well. She then gets the lovely job of "correcting" all our answers!

The super cool part to me is that the school I am signing on with (more on that later) will take my nursing prerequisites and give me credit for most of those classes. I will also actually have a degree at the end of this AND this new found school is less than half the cost of the last one I had interest in. Yippie!

A little girl is beginning to stir. A little boy is ready for breakfast. My coffee needs a refill. Good morning my friends :) Off to be a mommy and hunt down textbooks at the same time! Happy to have you on this journey.

Hi there!

2010-08-19T15:07:00.000-07:00

Oh my. I lag in my writing. I have so many irons in the fire! But really, I figured I should check in. I am committed to writing about my journey-as promised.

I am working on several things-suppose I will update on them all... here comes a lengthy post!

1. Being a mommy. :) I love having a princess and dressing her in all her cuteness. I have enough pictures to put most grandparents to shame. She is smiling, giggling, totally ticklish and loves to bat at and grab toys dangled in front of her. She hasn't rolled over yet, but then again, she is rarely put down. I wonder how she is going to learn to walk before age two...I mean really, we fight over who gets to hold her.

And the boys are all in such fun and unique stages of life that I enjoy just being in their presence. They are amazing people.

Oliver is singing. Yes, singing. He has learned to follow along and loves singing "Hey there Delilah..." "I can ride my bike with no handle bars" and many other songs that we frequent. He requests them as we cruise along in the van and then sings along. (Until mom turns on the video camera-then forget it-he's the shy boy picking his nose in the back seat.)

Ryan is entering second grade and has the language skills of a teenage girl on the phone. He is constantly telling stories and is bold in keeping up with his brothers smart remarks. He has quite the tongue on him and we have no idea where it comes from. Really. He enjoys reading and our new Wii fit. He's very competitive and I'm loving seeing him discover his passions. He is a force to be reckoned with and his future will be a fun one to watch unfold for sure.

Bradley is my right hand man. He loves his younger siblings and by all votes is the stable factor in the house. He can bounce a baby, entertain a toddler and eat his own breakfast at the same time. He amazes me with his built in ability to relate to the younger kids. He is the baby whisperer. It very much reminds me of myself as a child. I am grateful for his help and amazed at his strength. From the same child comes almost perfection in school. And this year he wants to tackle running in track. He was offered flag football, but it was not "rough" enough. He is abounding in energy-evident in his play with friends. He comes in sweaty, out of breath and exhausted. He truly is a person who is either on or off. He is all boy yet so nurturing and loving at the same time. He is an amazing person.

My Jacob. My teenager. Experiencing all ends of the spectrum. The normal roller coaster of teenage life. He is just starting those "longer term relationships" that last for months and not just the crushes of days or weeks. I've a feeling his heart will be broken soon. He had a rough go over the summer and he's on the brink of those deeper feelings. He is also 5' 11" and towers over both me and William. This can be intimidating when he is grumpy and argumentative, but in the end he is always respectful and keeps himself in check. I tell you folks, there is nothing in the world like watching your children each grown into their own persons. I am saying it a lot, but it is truly amazing!

2. Knitting.
I know, possibly boring for some of you, but I have become quite the addict and my yarn stash is becoming stiff competition for the girly clothing stash! I have so many projects I am working on at once. My latest is a matching bootie and hat set for "J"'s baby boy coming in the next month. Her highly anticipated shower is this weekend, but I just can't knit that fast! It's a mock "Ugg" set...super cute. I'll have to post some pics when I finish. If you are interested in what else my knitting has been up to...check this link out: Knit Picky I took a dive at slings too. You can see the first one on my site. I've got more material waiting for a night when I get both the babies down and can sneak out the sewing machine again. Don't ask me how I find time for all this...really...I just don't sleep. I will add my shameless plug here: If you like my knitting/sewing and are interested in a custom order please email me. Custom order...meaning...you like a pair of pants or a style or a set and want one of your own or for a gift. I can do wool for cloth diaper users or other machine washable blends for disposable diaper wearers. Hats, beanies, booties, blankets, sets of all. Slings...etc. All the proceeds are being stashed for tuition to www.nationalmidwiferyinstitute.com

3. Midwifery.
Well, since we are on the topic. I'm at 6% of needed tuition to start :) No worries, and no hurries. I'm still nursing a baby girl and taking my time. In the meantime I'm start a vast library of midwifery books and texts. I've already started reading some of the stuff I want to and some I need to. I have homework. Two topics that I am writing about and a informational meeting with local midwifes on Wed. the 25th about what it's going to take and what the plan is for getting started. I'm so very excited to meet a couple women there. We have all kind of heard about each other and are finally getting to meet and possibly start our own study group-getting the ball rolling for all of us to progress to full on student status! I've no idea how it's all going to work. At some point I'll be on call. My babies are still little and there is so much I still need to do and be here at home. But my Faith is big, my God is huge and I believe with all my heart this is my path. I have no stress as I watch it all unfold. I'm just a spirit on a journey...and I'm certainly not the one paving the path-just following it.

My homework topics; Why I want to be a midwife. What a midwife's life is like. I will share at some point, but not yet. I'm still perfecting my answers myself.

After four boys she gets...A Story of Her Own...

2010-06-24T15:46:00.000-07:00

Oh my friends the story you are about to see. I got both shock and awe at the graphic detailed story of Oliver's birth. It's still there if you care to read his amazing story. The blog address is listed to your right...and if you have read his story and the journey that follows it you will know all the more how very special this new story is to everyone involved.

A story worthy of it's own moment, it's own words, and wrapped in it's own perfect love...the way it should be...enjoy!

PS-All the pics are edited/censored-there's skin but nothing too grapic...(it's safe to view big brother ;) And this is quite a long post! But when am I ever short winded???

It began with 24 hours of labor. Off and on. In and out. Hard yet soft. Lingering, waiting, wanting more. Walking, talking, begging, praying and waiting some more. A sleepless night on the 25th of May. Hypnobabies plugged into my ears got me through each wave ten minutes apart. Intense, but far spaced and short lived at 40 seconds long. I was determined to sleep in between to save my energy. I curled around my Oliver and had a restless night of sleep alternating with contractions. Will slept in the living room so we would not keep each other up and both get restful sleep. He got restful sleep anyway :)

The 26th arrived early and restless for me. A Wednesday and much too soon in the week to take an extended leave from work for him. Things were still very spaced apart but still happening. Will decides to go to work and leave the kids home from school with me as a just in case. If my labor intensifies or gets regular-changes at all-I am to call him, he is twenty mintues away. As soon as Will left for work the contractions stopped.

She was waiting. Waiting for her daddy. Waiting for her family. Waiting for her time on her day. Waiting for her moment. Making her own story. I was not happy. I wanted to be done. I wanted to meet her. I wanted her so badly my arms ached and my heart sobbed to hold this precious baby girl that I had waited my whole entire life for. I had no choice but to wait. And I was grumpy about it.

Daddy came home and within an hour a contraction tapped on my door. A long slow walk around the block chasing Oliver the toddler provoked two more taps. My smile is slowly returning...perhaps it is time after all...I long for more. More pain. More intensity. More. More will bring my baby from under my heart to over it and into my arms. I pray for strength.

Dinner. Visiting. Silence. In frustration I say goodnight to my family and tell Will I'm getting extra sleep. Kisses go round and Oliver and I curl into bed at 8:30pm as the sun is slowly setting and darkening the room. I watch Oliver drift off into a peaceful slumber and I whisper aloud. I'm talking to me, to him, to God, to her.

"I cannot redo Oliver's story. I don't get to rebirth. He doesn't get to skip the path that he journeyed. This is her story. It's her birth. Unique in it's own right. And that's how I want it to be. I don't want to change anything. It's made me who I am and today I not only love it, but I am grateful for it."

I'm drooling on the pillow within seconds in the deepest sleep ever. Until 10:36pm. At which point the knocking on the door to my womb was incredibly intense and rocked me right out of sleep. Oh yay I think to myself. Another night of this. I grab my hypnobabies mp3 player and plug myself into self hypnosis/meditation. I'm determined to ignore this and go back to sleep. Stay as loose and soft and sleepy as I can. It makes each wave easy to just ride over. But by 11pm I can no longer stay in bed. I grab my prayer shawl and wrap myself up, sneaking out of bed in the dark room to the soft blue glow of the computer screen. I find contractionmaster.com and give it a go because these feel too easy and short, but seem to be coming much faster than ten minutes apart like before. Thirty minutes of timing shows contractions 2-4 minutes apart and lasting 40 seconds. I know from past labors my contractions are half as long as they should be. 90 seconds is normal for me. 40 is insanely short. They are however intense!

I bounce on the yoga ball. I roll. I meditate. I pray. I begin to hummm a low tone to deal with the peak of pain. By midnight I'm ready for something more. A glass of wine to help things slow down with a warm bath? A common remedy for braxton hicks or prodromal labor. (see, at this point, I really don't think this is it whole heartedly) I don't dare hum in the kitchen for fear of waking everyone up and I don't think I can pour a glass of wine that fast in between contractions. I decide to just head for a nice hot shower in hopes of calming things down so I can get back to sleep.

I go into a time warp in the shower. Squares of tile and the hum of my own voice. My mind wonders if this is it. I wonder how long it will take. I wander back to Oliver's birth. This seems too easy. I'm holding back for some reason. I'm slightly worried and I can't make a decision about anything. It's 2am. This has gone on too long to be nothing. It's going to end up somewhere, I just don't know how fast. I wait for a contraction to pass and I throw on my robe. I run to the living room and I wake Will up. "It's time to make coffee" I say. That's how he knows it's the real deal. It was our code phrase. "Really? Are you sure?" he asks me sleepily. I snap back at him "Yes, I'm sure, get up, omg I have to get back in the shower" I clutch my tummy as the wave begins to harden down all my muscles. I run back to the water shedding my robe to the floor.

He makes his coffee. He wakes up. He comes to me in the shower. And then I had a moment. Just one. Oliver's birth crept into the dark places in my mind in the wee hours of the morning to a tired mama birthing in the solitary of a steamy tile bathroom shower. I cared not to repeat it. Flashes of blue danced in my head. Limp floppy blue baby. The panic of dialing 9-1-1. The silence of the room as we watched him struggle and prayed for his life. Fear welled up and poured forth from my heart and my eyes. Will knew when he looked at me. "Don't." he said. "Don't go there. Box it back up and put it away for later." He was right. And it was just the imagery I needed. I made a little box in my mind. I wrote on it "Oliver's birth." I put his story in there and I committed to let Lilah's story unfold on it's own-no matter how it turned out. He stepped into my steamy wet labor room of tile. Shoes and all. He hugged me. He kissed my forehead. "yeahhh baby!" he shouted.

We were having our daughter today and no one in the world knew it yet but us three.

Oliver began to fuss, Will's coffee was calling and so he left me again to do daddy things. I had a phone call or two to make. I decided not to think about how much I hated to call at 2am...but it was time. I needed my back up. I needed the girls. Mama had farther to drive and we needed her for help with little Oliver who was not fond of my moaning through contractions at this point. He was awake, and not happy. I called. I got voice mail. I hung up. She'd call back. I jumped in the shower for another contraction. The phone rang. I finished the wave and called her back. "It's time." I whispered. "I'm in the shower, been contracting since 10:30. I'm making noise through them and now Ollie is awake. We could use your help." She asked "Did you call your midwives?" I told her that was my next call but I knew she had farther to drive. She simply said "I'm on the way." We hung up. Could talk when she got here. I had one more call to make before I could retreat to the sanity of my little tile labor room.

Ring once. Ring twice. A sleepy "hello this is Marlene" I explain my contractions...how they don't seem long enough or intense enough but also tell her "I'm stuck in the shower." I tell her that I hope I'm not calling for nothing. She says they are on the way. I didn't know I'd be on my hands and knees begging them to hurry up within ten minutes...but I was.

Within 20 minutes she appears in the foggy bathroom. "Thank God" I whisper. She tells me my mom is here too and with Oliver. She watches me through a contraction and goes to make up my bed with fresh sheets and protective covers for after delivery. She's thinking very soon. I'm thinking we have a long way to go. She says by the looks of it I'm going to have my baby in the shower and my mind begins to swirl. There's too much tile. Not enough water. Awkward positioning. I don't like this idea. She checks me and tells me I am at 7cm. It's close.

The hot water is close to gone. I've been turning the knob to cold in between contractions but it's struggling to keep up. I know my time in the shower is nearly done weather I like it or not. I need water. I tell her my fears of the shower birth and they drag in the birth tub and do their best to get it warm and full. I am laboring on dry land, and not very gracefully. I try my hypnobabies again, pushing the earpieces into my ears, but it's prompting contractions to come faster and I don't like it. I toss it back to the counter. I turn on my bathroom sink to cold and push my forehead down to hear the sound of the water rushing inside my brain.

After half an hour I cry out "I neeed the water!" I turn around to find someone to help me and the midwives sitting silently on the edge of the bed look up to smile at me. "Get in the tub whenever you want Randi" she says. They are like sneaky ninja's watching from the shadows...I feel guilty for shouting but no time to apologize, the tub is calling me in as another wave sneaks up on me. We peel off the sheet helping hold in the heat and in I climb.

It's half full. I don't care. It's warm and I instantly melt down and relax in the water. My water. Oh how I love thee. I laugh and ask how on earth women birth on dry land. They sit on the edge of the bed and we laugh and talk and have total peace in between contractions. I am amazed at the simplicity, at the lack of total intense constant pain. It's totally different than Oliver's birth. It's her birth. Will is adding water heated on the stove since I nearly used all our hot water. Between the pots of boiling water and the water heater being kicked up to high, we manage a very warm birthing tub and I am so grateful! Oliver is sitting on Marlene's lap by now splashing water and enjoying the calm atmosphere in between contractions. When I begin to have another I tell him I'm going to moo like a cow now and we make light of my uncontrollable noises. He's nervous at first and then smiling at me as I work. I probably sound like a pretty weird cow but it's keeping him happy. Marlene (my midwife) jokes that if I start splashing back at him she's leaving!

And we wait. Things are much more spaced out. My contractions are farther apart-but very intense when they come. And we wait. We wait in silence as time ticks. We wait for our family to grow, for our baby girl to join us earth side...
The time draws nearer. We come together as a family. All who are awake gathering in my nest that I have for months prepared in advance...
The talking is less. The work is more. They shift around my tub to different seats, holding Oliver, comforting me, watching over. Waiting in silence and hushed whispers for the gift of life to show itself.

And she does. At 4:55am on May 27th 2010 into her daddy's hands...

And she is NOT floppy. And she is NOT blue.

And I am so happy, there are not words to write...Oh Welcome Lilah Rose Marie Payton. I love you so much. I have waited my whole life for you sweet girl!

We run to get Ryan. And the older boys too, who peek but for a moment and stumble back to sleepy teenage beds. But Ryan lingers. In the wee hours before the sun allows light to peek in. He is soaking it in. What it should be. What he missed last time when he was the wee one dipping a finger in the water, waiting for precious life to emerge.

His sister.
With perfect feet.

Her cord is cut and onto dry land we go. Baby first, back into daddy's arms so mama can get cleaned up and out.

Hello Mammy. I am Lilah Rose Marie Payton!

mmm hmmm...

wrapped up in the scale...final weight: 9 pounds 5 ounces 20.5 inches.

Someone made off with the midwife's stethoscope! Marlene's new assistant Oliver.

Faith.
Faith is belief in the unseen, the quietly held coviction that even though you can't imagine how, at some time, in some place, in the right way, the thing you desire will indeed come to pass. ~Daphne Rose Kingman

Thank you God. For life. For changing mine. For letting me be the earthly parent of theirs. Thank you for the journey that took me home.

A relaxing Saturday...

2010-04-24T09:50:00.000-07:00

As you can see, my hands have been busy. My midwives tell me that it's therapeutic, the repetitive motions. It is fun to create. I'm currently working on a blanket for baby Lilah. It's a much bigger stitch and easier on the hands of the knitter. My pregnancy induced carpal tunnel is acting up.

34 days to go. More or less. My thinking is less. I don't say that lightly because it's sure to bring on the phone calls "have you had that baby yet?" But, the way this girl has been practicing I'm voting for more like 20 days. But then again, what do I know? She could hold out til June and make me look like a total fool. It's been fun watching her little personality emerge even as she wiggles inside me. She finally decided to show her little rump to the midwives at yesterday's appointment. We all just giggled as she seems to roll and show off all her little bumps and nubs (knees and feet, bum, and elbows). She seems so happy to just be her and so excited to meet the world.

I'd be lying if I didn't say I was having some nervousness around her upcoming birthing. I know in my mind that it will be a different baby and a different birth, unique unto her. She deserves nothing less than her own story. But I cannot help to reflect on Oliver's grand entrance. The joy and the pain, the loss and the victory. I look at him now, and in my mind that little blue baby and the laughing, talking running little blond boy I have in front of me are two different people. I suppose they are in many ways. I am looking forward to Lilah's birth. I am ready for the healing it will bring.

Last night, the sun was so low in the sky that darkness had nearly taken over. Even the mosquito's had returned to wherever they came from. There was a nip in the air and Oliver and I were walking barefoot in the dark blue grass of our front yard. He looked at the night sky and pointed out the moon to me. I scooped him up and felt every bump of the yard as we walked. It was eerily quiet. I remember that same observation almost two years ago as I was wheeled across that lawn to the ambulance that started Oliver's journey. But this time he was in my arms, happily squashing his growing sister in my belly and snuggling into me. And last night we had a different destination. Our Willow tree. The trunk grows fast and thick, it is now as tall as I am. The little 18 inch twig we planted last year is strong and healthy. Oliver reached out and grabbed the twisty branches that reach toward Heaven. He ran his open hands slowly over the leaves and for just a moment it was like he was somewhere else. He seemed to freeze to take in whatever it was he was thinking. He was somewhere pure and enchanting...his eyes were lost for just a moment and he was very still-a rarity for any toddler. And then he came back, talking to me about the moon ball in the sky that was so bright and he desperately wanted to hold. Soon enough he kicked down and left me to my own thoughts.

A moment for my step dad. Monday will have been a year since he crashed. It seems like eternity yet I still can't wrap my mind around him never cruising up on his Harley again with open arms to hug all his grandkids. He still seems right around the corner. I leave his whispers on that strong little tree in my front yard that symbolizes the wisdom of the ancients reaching towards the Heavens always with Gratitude. Always.

And a month ago my grandmother parted ways with this earth as well. She was my childhood mother figure. I wish we were closer in my adult years, but there was a separation that seemed insurmountable. I hold dear what she once gave so freely when I was a child and offer much of that to my own children now. Having a daughter opens the door to even more and I look forward to passing the torch of many of her ways.

***

On a less serious note, I am looking forward to this next month off. I'm glad to be free of extra kids that are not mine, and often full of coughs and illness. I feel my body returning to health. The off and on sun and rain brings equal periods of rest and then nesting. I am very much enjoying the gift of the freedom I have this last month before our little girl enters this world. Hopefully I can wrap my mind around it all before labor actually starts! ;)

Seasons...

2010-02-06T11:27:00.000-08:00

My writing calls to me from afar. The rain pours outside, sleep was bountiful and my words have sprung forth again and so I arrive at keyboard.

Seasons change. Often like a tornado touching ground the world around is mixed, destroyed, swirled, and dumped in heaps across a weary and worn landscape.

And then there is silence. Time to take it in. Time to assess. Time to accept. Time to swallow the cold, hard truth: Even a life rebuilt to the letter of what it once was will forever be scarred by the wreckage that came across it's path. Decisions must be made. Some things left behind. Some things need to change. Sometimes the tornados in our life are really blessings that open our eyes.

And then comes hope. Discovery. The fire is lit again and the potter gently puts us over the heat. Our cracks are melted together, remixed, forcibly and then gently reshaped we step forward, different, but still of the same...

And I emerge again, slowly, finding words in my heart...mine, but not always inspired by me. There is a reason for them and I answer with honesty and transparency.

I've been deep. Another season. A story to tell.

A bit over two years ago, I was well on the path to becoming a Nurse. The future looked good. Security. A noble and well admired career. Education was like food and I could never dream of ending learning....but where it was taking me, the path I was about to complete was calling. I was excited. I was content. I was ready!

And then Oliver was discovered. Growing inside of me, this tiny being, my eyes began to open to...a different path. Things came before me, new knowledge, new discoveries, that I do not even know where they came from. It was a world within our world that once I had stuck one finger in the thin transparent shell, I was drawn in with my entire being. My belief system changed, my world turned, and all that was left was to see how and where I would land in it all. Little did I know there was a storm on the horizon. And then he arrived. After nine months of soaking in so much newness, midwifery, alternative healing, a beautiful home birth....and so much more learning that accompanied all of that...I was slammed back into the medical field that I once had longed for with all my heart. I had set it aside, waiting for what would call me and where I would be.

I was slapped in the face with the contrast of the two worlds.

It was me, and my son, in a gut wrenching journey under the responsibility of strangers and my hands were tied. I could do nothing but watch, day after day, and ride the waves, no matter how tall, no matter the pain...no matter how I wished the experience were different. There were so many things I saw that could be so different, so healing, so nurturing, so much more than what they were. Where I once pledged my allegiance, while doing every thing known to them to save my son was slowly killing me. It hurt. A tearing took place that could not be patched. I did not want a patch. Like watching a ware-wolf transform, I was fixated on it. I wanted to run but more so, I wanted to see, no matter the cost. And I did. And it cost. I came to a place of deep hurt, deep resentment, withdrawn and sore. I was pummeled with change after change, even after returning home seemingly unscathed and full of miracles.

But one can't live there inside. I cannot. One cannot hold anger at the tornado forever. One cannot fight it off as it tears and rips it's way along the path. Hands tied, all that can be done is to watch. I had no choice but to open myself more to the vast experience that had just whipped through my life. I had walked away with life, but I also carried inside of me answers, swirling like the little flakes in a just shaken snow globe. I looked up with open arms and allowed them to settle, slowly piecing together my new truth.

I saw two ways blend into one, dependent on each other. I felt gratitude, finally, for the prize that I walked away with...and on a level almost as deep, I was grateful for the tornado that had opened my eyes to it all.

I am slowly rebuilding. What once was a nurse to be is now seeking midwifery. A step up, a different path, but one that over two years has become all consuming. My research phase is coming to an end and I will officially be starting my "schooling" very soon. I want to share this journey, and I need to share this journey, and I am happy to announce the start of this path. I have shared the deepest parts of me, from birthing forward, shared as the wounds have been cut, and as they have slowly transformed into scars that will ever remind me of my past and why I stand where I do today, who I am. I am delighted to share the next phase as it draws near-all of it.

As a forever friend reminds me: my family will always come first...my youngest....our little miracle baby, and the precious girl who now grows and will soon make her way forth of her own story-they all come first. But they will get to make this journey with me, the struggles of doing it all at once and the adventure too...and well, those of you who continue to read through my times of silence and my times of lengthy writing....I am forever humbled by your sweet words, emails, comments and love.

Along this last year of journey I have also lost from earth my step dad. A man who was human, made many mistakes but, he cared for me and my children, and he was a wonderful example of love for us throughout my teenage years and into adulthood. He had his faults, but he was who he was and there was love there. It moved my faith in a way that would never have occurred without his passing from this planet. The most beautiful gift came with his death. As I sat in his hospital room and watched the machines tell the inevitable that was occurring, watching his heart slow, his brain waves cease, it all challenged my most deep spiritual beliefs. I sat at his bedside and held that Bible full of thin onion paper pages, notes scribbled in his writing...and I wondered if it really could be more than just paper bound in leather...I asked the questions why, I asked what if there isn't, I asked, and I waited for answers that could never come from within myself. They had to come from elsewhere if I were to put any stock in what came.

And they did. In a word whispered that was never meant for my hearing by she who spoke it. In a song. In nature around me. In the changes in myself. And for months I have been blessed with a never ending washing, a rain that has poured down. The huge holes left by the tornado, the edges that sharply contrast the lush manicured green grass and the dark dirty soil beneath, rock and stone have slowly been melted, rounded and then leveled flat under the lengthy pounding rain. And I know that I have not ever walked alone. I walked many times with silence by my side, but never alone....when I screamed for changed, threatened and demanded, lied on my floor in utter agony, there was silence. What seemed so cold a response in hindsight was really patience, waiting on me with the patience of a God that knows no time other than eternity. At times the burden of change lay within myself. Some of the debris left behind I had to pack away on my own. For my own growth. I was left to help myself and when I needed it, there was always back up. Back up that had been waiting. Waiting the kind of wait that never looks at a clock. The kind of wait that just smiles as it sees the wait has come to an end.

I got a glimpse of what was to be and a nudge to start. The gentlest touch to lift my chin. The calmest rain to clean my wounds. The security of knowing who stands behind me and beside me. Unique unto myself, He is one I don't have to borrow from someone else anymore. And forward I walk. Looking back when I need to. Remembering to stop once in a while and give thanks for the rocks I climb and the beauty they protect on the other side.

And I know. I know of real miracles walking this very earth. I know gratitude so loud you can only hear it in a whisper. I know faith so deep it cannot be shaken.

Most of all...

I know real love.

I cannot help but share.

2010-01-22T15:09:00.000-08:00

My heart is blessed to have received a current picture of a little girl I sponsor that lives in Colombia. She has grown so much in the last six months she looks so different from her first pictures I received! I sent in a mere $20 for her birthday...and the Compassion project staff alongside the child's Grandmother purchased her a pile of clothing, something new from head to toe, including undergarments and a new bath towel...she wrote a very sweet letter in return showing her gratitude and excitement.

Once again I am reminded how rich and blessed I truly am, despite the world I live in that tells me otherwise. I am reminded how little effort it takes to bless another person. A letter. A twenty dollar bill. A prayer...

Six year old Gracie (Greisy) happily holding her presents:

2010-01-11T20:35:00.000-08:00

Today's midwife appt went well. I'm measuring 22/23 weeks-which tend to be normal for me.

Little girl is doing well-moving, growing, heart rate a beating in the 150's. My BP continues to be awesomely low! All is well :)

I've had insomnia and the lack of sleep is catching up to me-I'm about to lay down the little monkey boy (who is sleeping in his own space now yay!) and catch me some ZZZ's!

A trip to the Doctor.

2009-12-31T10:32:00.000-08:00

Not for me. I am well and baby is still moving and shaking. Little Oliver however after three nights of minimal sleep and flat out misery...well, mama called it. We discovered a wonderful after hours clinic and got scheduled for the second appt of the night-no waiting-yay!

Diagnosis: I-teeth are coming in, both ears have "significant" infections and an eye infection to boot! The Nurse Practitioner was so sweet to him, even opening sample packs of ear numbing drops and numbing him up real well knowing we had to hit the pharmacy before home. She gave a prescription for antibiotics, ear drops for home to numb him up and some eye drops. Our herbal home remedies got the OK to continue as they do provide some relief as well. So we are on a crazy drop/medication schedule for a few days but even this morning he actually is eating and running around and not just laying on my lap. He's still clingy and has green snooties, but I can see a major difference. Not to mention, we both got some gooood sleep last night. Ahhhh. Sleep does a body good I tell ya!

On another note, I have been knitting like a mad woman and am taking pictures sometime this week. My booties kept coming out big and it was driving me nuts so I have had to adjust the pattern and gauge a bit. But I have some cute ideas and I'm dying to share and get the opinions of others-knitters and non-knitters alike ;)

Someone is beckoning for my lap yet again...til later...
RF

I went.

2009-12-29T14:43:00.000-08:00

Well. It started with hum haw, and I think I really want to stay home and have a warm cup of tea and enjoy the last day of vacation before I have daycare tomorrow. It's just one kid, but it's "a job" none the less.

Then DH (short for dear husband ((or damn husband depending on the day))) shows up-and insists I go because he made it an early day at work and he wants to know the scan results. I last minute showered but forgot to brush my teeth-sorry ultrasound lady!

Baby girl was very active and squirmy and indeed had grown no boy parts since our last peek. She was suckling her thumb and rubbing her eyes, gulping in water. She kicked and showed off her sweet little body. In quick review: no cleft palate or lip, all four chambers of heart including valves and major arteries leading to and from are intact and working, diaphragm and skeletal all developed well including leg and arm bones feet and hands, kidneys are present and bladder is working, brain is all there and normal...and my favorite part...her placenta and cord are as they should be and she's kept them from around her neck/head entirely so far! (she IS listening to mama) She moved from head up to head down to sideways all in one scan.

Ultimately, I'm glad I went. Any little doubt I had overshadowing is just gone. She is what she is supposed to be and then some and I am letting it drop from head to heart that okay, yes, perhaps we can be this blessed with no strings attached...with no shoe about to drop...just a sweet little girl packing on weight, growing in strength, and ready to rock our worlds in a few short months!

And without further ado, here is the last inside peek. Next time we see sweet baby Delilah Rose she will be earth side and in mama's arms!

Profile: Face nose and lip, she has her bottom lip tucked in a tad

Sucking thumb of her left hand

Holding up her left hand as if she's looking at it in wonder :)

We made it past Christmas! Woot woot!

2009-12-28T10:09:00.000-08:00

Well...I pull the busy card again as my excuse. Course sometimes it's just that there's not much to write-there is, but my mind doesn't have time to process as it once did over a blissful summer full of nothing but beauty and time.

I have tackled knitting. So...homely of me? Actually the repetitive action is rather therapeutic. My baby girl booties are a little big-so perhaps she'll have big feet-or will have cute night time slippers when she is one! I feel like being a mom of five kids has some unspoken requirement of knowing some sort of crafty skill. I am having fun learning how to measure stitch gauge and read patterns. There is so much help online now that you can totally self teach-no need to hit classes or what not. Although my midwife is a master knitter herself and has wonderful odd and end tips :)

Baby is well. I feel her little kickies nice and low and it's wonderful reassurance that she is strong. I think back to Oliver and how little I felt him move over all. He has his move on these days though for sure! It has taken a month of back and forth on and off debating, but I think I am going to go for my anatomy scan tomorrow. I have been doing "shadow care" with an OB/GYN and my midwife just to keep my foot in the door for this scan. We knew from the gate that this baby would be peeked at more than usual for my preferred hands off approach. Part of me feels like I am not trusting the process as much as I want to, but I can't shake the knot in my stomach over not having this baby scrutinized in utero, just once. Part of me thinks it is my brain-a little post trauma sneaking in making me duck and dodge, nervously waiting for the other shoe to drop. It almost feels like I "got away" with Oliver's life and I am somehow dodging the same bullet aimed at my unborn baby again. I tell myself that an ultrasound of Oliver at this stage of development would have shown "normal and healthy" so there is no guarantee no matter what they see. From the other perspective, there are plenty of false results too that can worry and alarm. I suppose I am still in debate over if I should go or not and won't make up my mind until tomorrow is here. I want to trust. I want to surrender. And I want it in blood that my baby will be okay no matter what. Unfortunately we don't always get what we want. Which brings me back to the trust and surrender part. There's obviously a lot of healing still going on...processing still working it's way through. Strangely enough, I welcome it all...I'm ready to be whole again. And it seems to me that I am getting my theme for the year 2010. Faith. A fun topic.

We have picked a name for our girl. I didn't want to share at first. I didn't want to hear what people had to say. I was going to wait until she was born, because surely no one would say anything but "how cute" if I were holding her in my arms making the announcement. And then I laughed...trying to control other people! Har har! Her beautiful name will surely cause singing if you are a "plain white tee's" fan at all...The song has a very deep meaning for my hubby and I-of which I refuse to share detail! I also realized after we chose the name (and then I looked it up) that it is a biblical name. I knew that, but the story had long been moved to the back of my mind. It's not the best woman in the bible, but then again most of the women in the bible didn't have good reputations-and the ones that did-are way to common names for our little miracle girl. All right All right blah blah blah tell the name already! ~Delilah Rose Marie Payton~ Each name has significant meaning...and she gets two middle names woo hoo!

So, in other news, Oliver has his first big cold. Complete with fever, snotty nose and gooey eye oh yum! He was up most the night wanting mama love. I plugged in my ancient humidifier, which made a great bubbly noise all night, but did little to actually blow any steam. Today in between snuggles and screaming I will attempt to clean it-if I recall it's a vinegar soak or something....which will help with the night time snivels and coughing. I'm thanking God that no one else (including my highly susceptible pregnant self) has gotten any symptoms! Those that pray, or offer positive thoughts....aim it at his left eye that's puffy and red. Not quite pink eye looking, but pretty nasty. The rest we can work through, but eyes are connected to brains and well, you know what those words do to one in this house.

I know I promised to post pictures of baby girl...but hubby has forbidden crotch shots to be posted on the internet lol. The rest or her pictures (profile etc) are a bit blurry and we have a new scanner (it's wireless) so there's a learning curve that I am still at the bottom of. Once we get them on and focused a tad I will put them up. They are just 3D ones so not a whole lot to see but little "Skeletora" as we have been calling her. If I lean towards attending tomorrows scheduled scan, I will for sure get some of those up, but I'm obviously still doing internal debate so no promises.

Christmas went well. I was blessed with circular knitting needles, new cell phone and other such mama goodies (all of which dear Santa husband gave me early lol) The kids scored fat, which you'd think would keep them occupied in these days after but oh no...they're hopping from this to that. Ahhh the controlled chaos, is what makes my house my home.

And now I must run, they are trying to convince the lurking outdoor stray cat to come inside with our already too many chihuahua's...when does school start up again? *wink*
RF

OMG REALLY?

2009-12-12T15:04:00.000-08:00

Hello baby....suckling on thumb, snuggling into the placenta, whole brain, whole heart, straight cord, fingers, toes and....
....
....
....

GIRL PARTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*still in shock* pics to come later....

Now to ponder names :D

14 weeks 4 days

2009-12-01T11:40:00.001-08:00

Okay um: 1. My body has apparently "caught on" that we are expecting. It seems to do so earlier each time. 2. Some of that is left over from Oliver being pushed out into plain sight (Thanks baby *sigh*)
None the less, there's no more hiding it....here we go!

Appt set...

2009-11-25T20:41:00.000-08:00

December 12th for gender determination...and a basic anatomy scan. Not detailed (ie: all four heart chambers and valves etc) but a basic-the whole brain is there, the whole heart is there and such.

I'm very excited to find out. Simply because it's always fun to begin to get a glimpse of personality and play with names and not to mention I have braved the yarn and picked up my knitting needles again. I'm still a total knitting newb, but I love it so much more than crochet, and there are tons of video and help sites out there now. I'm going to invest in my first circular needles and actually give a hat a try! It will be fun to do and also awesome to know if I should be buying uber soft blue yarn or cuddly ruffly pink!

Each little one is special and I'm so excited to "meet" this little one (although not in person yet :) Of course you all will be the first to know after grandparents of course!

Looking forward to some Turkey with "mam" tomorrow and some cute pics-I promise to post!

Have a happy safe Thanksgiving tomorrow!

My video addict.

2009-11-17T16:38:00.000-08:00

Oh Grandma!

All the boys call her "mammy" it was born from "Grammy" but they couldn't say the "GRR" ...Ollie has found his own version of "mammy" and calls her "mam" (we're still working on one syllable words) Mam sends video's of herself talking to him, and he gets his daily fix like an addict at the computer. (no idea where that comes from, probably his dad)

Here his is watching a clip, then asking for more "mam" at the end. Too cute!

Baby baby baybe!

2009-11-17T11:49:00.000-08:00

My dog has been missing since last Thursday. A lady called me this morning, certain she had her, and had seen my flyers and Craigslist ad. She has not returned my calls. I am impatient, and irritable. I miss my dog (the only other female thus far that resides in my home!)...please call me back lady!

Had a midwife appt yesterday. All went well. Lots of rehashing and talking about Oliver's story. Made a "group decision" to move on for the most part and allow this baby it's own story. It was so healing, and such contrast to the OB I saw early on that has "stillbirth" in my records. (although she did amend them after we talked)

Everything measures normal, and Will and Ryan (and Ollie) got to hear the heart via doppler. It was pounding away at a nice 168 and baby was squirming away. It was very sweet.

We have an ultrasound scheduled for 16 weeks for gender determination fun! My only hope is that if this is another boy (which I am totally okay and happy with) that people would not say "I'm so sorry" like they did last time. I know it's probably unavoidable in some respects, but there is an assumption that we want a girl or we will "just die"...like any mom I just want a healthy sweet baby.

We are returning at 20 weeks for the official anatomy scan, which is more for my own sanity than anything else. At which point will we reserve the option of a late u/s for "cord contrast" depending on how we are feeling anxiety wise. I'm not one to favor so many scans, but I think there is a time and situation where a line can be drawn that is appropriate, and we totally qualify! This baby will be peeked at often :)

I've lost another 6 pounds. No one is worried about it, but it has more than peeked my curiosity. I've not been following a diet per say, other than eating healthy and I've been way to tired to work out, other than walking a block or two to pick kids up from the bus. My iron level is normal...and there doesn't seem to be any health issues, so I am just thankful to not be packing on the pounds already! Yay-body!

Toddler sleep training sucks. There's a double edged sword here...cutting off nursing in a gradual but firm way, and staying asleep longer than 2 hours. Both at once is not so fun. We have tried out of bed, but then moved back into bed. I'm going back to out of bed, and am seriously considering out of room, although that bunks the Ollie man with a big brother who needs sleep at night. We may have to shuffle kids around for a monthish to get this in order. I'm not fairing well on minimal sleep, and having him so close seems to be making it harder for him. As soon as me or Will rolls over, sneaks into or out of bed, or any other motion, we have to start all over--which usually starts with mama milk. ugh! Part of me says "he's only one" and part of me says..."imagine six months from now" ...why does mama guilt always creep it's way in??? Lack of sleep gives me resolution. He must wean. He must sleep all night. We must ALL get some sleep at night.

Someone has figured out how to unlock the diaper pail. Apparently that ends my post for today lol! See ya soon~
RF

A little update

2009-11-09T09:36:00.000-08:00

Well, I suppose I am due for an update. I haven't really written as lately there hasn't been a whole lot to write. Quite honestly it feels like serenity to have no drama, no BIG deals going on right now, and I've been just kind of basking in the quiet, normal routine.

A few weeks ago I had the privilege of being able to assist once again as one of my mom's little Chihuahua's became a mommy herself. She delivered four pups, one was still birth and the other three are healthy and fat and fluffy and happy! This is the second puppy loss we've had during deliveries this year, and as Steve Irwin would say "tis natures way mate." But, it's always a little heart wrenching to hold what would have been in your hand, and shake your head that it's such a shame. It always reminds me how precious life is, and how amazing it is to see my little blue eyed curly blond haired boy running around pink and normal and healthy!

We leaked a few tears, but after the year we have had mom and I know that God has His own plans and we let the little one go in peace. There's a few kids up there that would love a new puppy to play with I'm sure. We look at the beauty of who and what was left, and this amazing little four pound doggie that birthed totally naturally. She made us nervous for a while there, but a quick call to Mister Super Veterinarian gave much reassurance that she was right on track and to let her be. Sure enough things moved along quickly and these little sweethearts were born in a matter of a few hours. They'll be ready for adoption right about Christmas time....oh how I wish I had room for more...Will would just faint if I drug home a fourth doggie...My household is growing too fast to add more fuzzy babies to it, but OMG aren't they precious?! Who can resist baby puppies!!!

Okay, there are two boys available...the girl is already claimed...if you're interested shoot me an email for pricing and other details. If not, you can join me in just ooogling over the cute pics.

Now about those cute kids of mine: We dressed up the younger two for Halloween and went to my Aunt Mary's house. She has the coolest neighborhood for trick or treating. Oh how I wish my camera was not so deficient in the dark....little Oliver in his monkey costume, padded waddly butt wiggling to and fro as he dragged his own bag of candy along the sidewalk and went door to door staring wide eyed as people added to his goodies...At first he was in the stroller, and didn't really understand, but once he had a taste of a tootsie pop sucker, it was all over. The mad childhood daze set in and it was house to house as fast as he could go! We got a good giggle that even at one year old he was totally into the festivities. People ooohed and aaahed at his adorableness and his father and I had ego's puffed up so big at the whole scene it was sickening. Of course the ill feeling may have just been the fact that we both downed 90% of his candy without his help. Better our guts than his I guess?

He only wanted the suckers anyway, but geeze man, no control! Ryan was a storm trooper and was pretty cute with his little nerf gun. He has the best manners, always saying thank you to each house as we left. At one point someone opened the door fast with a mask on and tried to scare him by yelling "boo!" Both he and Oliver just tipped their heads to the side and Ryan piped up "trick or treat." The guy was kinda bummed he got no screaming and running from them. Candy or bust!

All is well in baby land. Safely tucked away our little one is growing like mad and is somewhere around the size of a lemon about now. We'll hit the 12 week mark this week and officially pass the first trimester. Hopefully I'll be getting a lid on this exhaustion soon. I get to see my midwifes next Monday for a first appt, and I am SO looking forward to hugging them and checking in. I rented a doppler to listen to the heart beat myself, which I have only done once or twice, just as my nerves got the best of me. I always find the little bean pretty fast and it's fluttering away at a great rate. I swear I have felt a few flutters over the last week. I've been told since this is my 5th pregnancy, that it's a good chance I am feeling baby and not wind...but it's still so small I'm reluctant to "call it." I didn't feel Oliver really kicking around until 22 weeks, which is fairly "late" for a fourth baby, but in hindsight, Ollie never really was a big mover and shaker. He's still our mellow little man, other than the typical 18 month old will power fits ;) He does live with three big brothers after all! If I am feeling movement already it's just amazing to me, as once again I am reminded that every pregnancy and every child are different. It's a good reminder though...

I got a call from an old friend (from the 6th grade) who has had some very significant tragic child losses, but was happy to report she is pregnant again and due the beginning of May. She's not ready to make any announcements via internet, so I'll keep my mouth shut, although I don't think her nor anyone in her family really checks in here at all. I'm so excited for her, and happy that things are going well so far! It's fun to have someone to text and whine with about exhaustion or food aversions.

I've lost 12 pounds since pregnant, and I've no idea how that's happening. I haven't worked out I've been WAY to tired and I feel like all I do is eat! I'm one of those "lucky moms" who doesn't really get morning sickness, just waves of nausea here and there and horrid car sickness...my weakness is pot stickers (the kind you make at home-and let me tell you, my hubby can make some pot stickers!) I would just pay millions to be able to eat like I have been and still lose weight, but on the other hand it makes me nervous a tad, because it is SO out of the norm for me. I'm chalking it up to growing a baby, still nursing here and there a toddler, and now working running my own daycare....but still....those of you who have battled weight loss know of what I speak!

Well, that's about all....cute puppies, cute babies, happy, healthy, normal, boring, serenity....I'LL TAKE IT!!! And I'll really make an effort to update more :) I am so excited about upcoming holidays and the cold winter months. I slept so great last night in the cold house...ahhhh....this is my most favorite time of year! Talk to you soon~

The Big Secret...

2009-10-24T14:04:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm scan-tarded....they're totally upside down. But you can double click if you wanna zoom in and oogle :)

We are due with the exact same due date as last time, May 28th. Ollie was born a week early on May 21st. We are receiving midwifery care, same as last time. We are planning a healing and whole home birth, with an extra ultrasound at the end....to keep an eye on that umbilical cord. We plan a few changes this birth, making it an exclusive event as far as family attendance goes, but having a big "it's here" party. (Dad's cell is on restriction until after he catches) (you'll have to read Oliver's birth story if you don't understand that statement) and we are going to try hypnobabies this time. I hear it's pretty cool. If you're interested, I'll let you google it. I'm sure there will be more talk of plans and what not as we go along.

Just to answer a couple questions before the arise...Yes, this was a big surprise. We were kinda happy with our four pack, but apparently God had other plans for us. We are now 9 weeks along and very attached to the idea, and sweet baby growing healthily inside.

Yes, I'm scared at times. The dates are exactly the same as last time. It makes things feel eerily similar. But I know each baby and birth is different. This child already feels different if that makes sense. My support is nothing short of amazing and I have full faith in the outcome of this pregnancy. Okay, I have "most" faith :) But, I know full will come in it's own time.

Of course I hope it's a girl, but no we weren't "trying" for a girl. What we hope for more than anything in the world is a happy healthy baby that arrives via a beautiful home birth into mommy and daddy's arms! (and a pack of older brothers...)

Whew. I feel better. The cat's outta the bag! So, internet land...how have you all been?

Yes yes I am alive!

2009-10-03T10:22:00.000-07:00

Like any blogger I suppose an occasional hiatus is normal? :) In all honesty, we've had a lot going on. Some of which I cannot disclose at this moment...oh God the suspense! Just teasing...

We, well more like I, but it was a joint effort opened a home daycare! This has been in the process since before my step dad died in May. So I'm really excited it's finally done!

Why a daycare? What am I doing?
I'm not ready (on a couple different levels) to return to school yet. I still have my two year degrees, and time on my side. Oliver is still a nursling, despite my attempts to at least back him off a little bit. And well, a daycare seemed my speed for the moment. It's something to do, income to earn and a way to stay home with the sweet Monkey baby/toddler/mini me. I did daycare years ago when my older boys were little and burned out fast. Hmmmm.

Perhaps it's age, maturity, wisdom, the Early Childhood Education Units I got in college, or a combination of them all...but honestly...I'm loving this! I have a nest full of short people every day to love on, and go for walks with and watch the lightbulbs go off in their eyes as we learn new things every day. It's pretty cool...and I'm pretty happy. Oliver has taken some adjusting but for the most part loves his friends. There are hugs and loves a plenty every day from the "babies." It's pretty cute.

So that is where I've been. There's more to this story, but that's a whole different post. For now, here's a couple pictures for you all :)

Now to check in with the rest of the blogger world that I have not checked in with in a couple weeks....
See ya'll later!

Snuggle Buddy Wordless Wednesday...

2009-09-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

PTSD!

2009-09-09T12:42:00.000-07:00

I was so happy to be alerted to this article. It is so confirming, and I know several of my readers can relate. It reminds me to be easy on myself...even though my ordeal was much less than many and we are 15 months out...there are still tough days. It's very enlightening for those who have not had to experience the NICU as well. Enjoy-

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/25/health/25trau.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&ref=health

Oh boy! Television!

2009-09-04T08:27:00.001-07:00

He has discovered "The Wiggles"...for those of you non parents my best description is a bunch of guys with English accents...and their large costumed counterparts (a dinosaur, octopus and others) who non stop dance with energy that I couldn't squeak out even if I drank 2 whole pots of coffee all to myself. And they sing. While they dance. and sing. with dancing.

So after church last night, we had a late dinner and were all sitting around the table. I always try to ask thought provoking questions...how was school? Who's your best friend? If you were stranded on an island what's one thing you'd want to have? What food would you pick if you had to pick one food to eat for a whole year? ...What Wiggles song is stuck in your head?

Yeah, I did, and they all had an answer too! Farmer in the dell, old mother Hubbard, English country garden...oh man...it's bad...then we began converting what song was stuck in our heads to a country song, or rap, or opera, or rock and roll...we were all giggling hysterically.

So, I tried some other shows. You know for that 20 minutes of peace to chat on my cell phone and smoke a stogey while the lil one in his saggy diaper plugs in to the tube. Okay totally kidding, but simply going PEE by myself feels almost sinful it's so nice!

Failed attempts included: Barney, Blue's Clues, Dora the Explorer and a few less popular names from cartoons to puppets...no luck. Something about the Wiggles...I'm thinking it's the continuous singing and dancing that just captivates him.

Unfortunately Netlix has informed us that the two Wiggles video's we have on instant stream through our XBOX will expire in two weeks. Joy. I either scrap out some change and buy a couple, or go back to singing pat a cake while I go pee to keep him from crawling up to my lap and unrolling the entire roll of TP. Cause I can't pee while he's in the other room crying. (But I can while I sing pat a cake with happy energy and hand motions?!) And somehow this post turned into details of how I manage to make it to the bathroom with my one year old. Perhaps if I cut out one of those pots of coffee...

Please tell me you have similar issues?

Wet wordless Wednesday.

2009-09-02T08:24:00.000-07:00

A different word.

2009-08-28T09:31:00.000-07:00

I've been irritated. Annoyed really. Okay I confess, I'm hung up on a minor detail, but it's bugging me. What better place to outlet than here?

What on earth is creeping under my skin? A word. One word.

Praise.

I've been expressing gratitude and new found closeness, my cup hath been overflowing (for the most part)...been plugging along fine and dandy with much appreciation and love. And recently attending a new church. They have services on three different days of the week. They are within walking distance from my house. I've been hanging out a lot. It's good. But they sling the word around, as many do and it's just been under my skin. It dawned on me today why...

It bugs me because it's a word that, to me, indicates someone did something I wanted them to. And it's usually someone I'm trying to teach. Sometimes it's someone furry who needs to understand my carpet is not the bathroom. Sometimes it's a kid who has to learn to shower in less than thirty minutes. And on occasion, and usually with some guilt it's a certain someone who has to get it that his wife will wash his clothes for him, but only if he turns his socks right side out for crying out loud. Those are big accomplishments! Those are worthy of praise to me. But they are all humans, learning, and praise is a reward, a positive reinforcement, encouragement to do more good behavior.

With that attitude behind the word praise I cannot rightfully express it to my God. My Father. He does not need to "understand, learn or get it." He who Creates from dust-living human beings, breathing life into them. Every time I hear the words "praise the lord!" I cringe. I'm sorry. It just seems belittling to me. It feels more like the person is saying "I prayed for this, and you did what I asked you, good job God!" That feels flat out wrong to me. Disrespectful.

Now before you send hate mail...please understand that I do get it. I know that people use the phrase because it's a commonly used and understood phrase to express thanks, and even wonder and excitement at what God has done. I get it that we are supposed to glorify Him and that His name should be deferred to when passing out the "praise" over a situation. We are supposed to always remember His part in answered prayer and not take credit ourselves. There is a reason we pray to Him and don't just do it on our own. We can't. He can. I get it. And I confess I have used the term myself.

I suppose what's irritating me more than the phrase is the prayers. I've been making a conscious effort to have an ongoing daily conversation with Him. One thing/lesson that He has brought to my attention over and over is the word relationships. They are important. Very important. And I get that. Loud and clear. Relationships are the only thing we get to leave this planet with. No cute jeans, no new earrings. Just the love, memories and relationships, the bonds we share with other spirits on this earth.

And I keep reading how He wants a relationship with us as well.

I used to want to simplify my relationship with God. Perhaps that's what drove me in the wrong direction for so long. It was too simple of a relationship. I asked. He answered. I praised. or...I asked. He didn't answer. I asked more. He got real quiet. I asked more. Silence. I got pissed off.

I had to learn that like any worthwhile relationship, there are storms. Oh yeah. There are. And I have to look at my part in those storms. Not His. (Cause technically, He has no "part.") If my relationship with Him is truly a relationship more than ask and wait or ask and praise...then there aren't storms. If I trust Him and give it all to Him then it sure changes our relationship. We don't have storms like in a marriage. Because He is perfect and we are not, and therefore I CAN give it all to Him and leave Him to decide without needing my guidance...yes I can trust Him...and surprise surprise...He doesn't go away. There isn't silence. I look for Him and His communication with me. It isn't always just an answer. But He is always speaking...

As a parent, I don't only speak to my kids when they ask me for something. And sometimes I am so busy that I don't even look up and it dawns on me after they leave the room that they were talking to me. But I do have relationship other than asking with my kids. Sometimes I want to hear about their day, or what their favorite color this week is. Sometimes we just chat about what's neat to them and why. And sometimes I dig out things that seem trivial to them, because I want to hear every detail. I want them to know that I know everything about them, and it's important to me! Because I love them. And trivial or not it matters. Because it forms relationships...

I am learning God has that same desire in my own life. I feel so trivial, but it's important to Him. I told Him my favorite color was purple and then I noticed purple morning glories in full bloom on the way to the bus this morning. Last night the sun set over the train tracks...in beautiful shades of purple. He already knew my favorite color, but when I talked about it to Him, suddenly I noticed these things. I can't help but wonder if He's talking back to me. And it's not an answer. It's just a chat. My heart swells with that feeling you feel when you know someone loves you unconditionally.

And I can't bring myself to praise him. Because I'm not training Him. I have to find a different word. Because He is so much more important to me now. I look at that sunset and I tell Him it's absolutely stunning. I tell him I think He is amazing to be able to paint like that...and on the canvas of the sky it's the most beautiful. Like a little kid I ask Him "Do it again Father!" I smile. I show my own family His amazing art. And in the silence of a heart in awe I whisper to His ear "Thank you."

Wordless Wednesday

2009-08-26T00:06:00.001-07:00

Please note. Snacks left within reach are fair game for those that can reach. What those that can reach do with said snacks is entirely their own business! Thank you.

Family update with pictures!

2009-08-25T08:48:00.000-07:00

This child has become my breakfast tramp. Does he sit in a high chair and eat cereal? NO! He goes to whomever is eating and freely samples before deciding who to sit with and share in their food...tis the only way he gets a full belly. I mean, if you are not eating sitting in a high chair, why should he? He so loves to do what everyone else is!

Then we have my buggy boy! This child loves bugs...specifically praying mantis bugs. Which requires catching flies and feeding bugs to the bug!

Until said bug is eating 3 or more flies a day...in which case, he must be let loose to catch his own dinner. (Thank God!) And much to my disbelief on the very tree (tomato plant) where we let the brown mantis go was a fresh new tiny green one, and so Ryans sadness over saying goodbye was transformed into pure joy at a new mantis that he creatively named "Mantis two." Wild imagination at work there.

We've all seen the pictures all summer long of cute baby playing in the water and with the hose. He has learned to now spray the hose...and he will spray anyone within 10 feet. This includes our new neighbors as well as the mail lady and UPS guy. I've no idea how he learned it. I must say though that my darling innocent 13 year old posed a great picture for me to give to his future wife at our first meeting.

Oh, and um, no we are not trying out our red neck fashions by moving our furniture to the front lawn. That was stuff we put out for Salvation Army to come pick up. Yay for donations that you don't have to drive anywhere to drop off! Oh yes...these are my classy pictures they are...

And, now I'd like to share with you, my never crying, always pleasant little one year old. His brothers adore him so much because he is such an angel. He would never ever climb from lap to table during an important card game and totally ruin it. That's why his brothers never ever hide in their rooms to play and lock out the darling baby toddler child...

I love these next few...notice the cards in mid air...and how the older boys are trying to continue the game in spite of...lol!

I which point I said enough, and asked him to stop throwing the cards at people. Cause I would never just stand there and take pictures. He was not thrilled at my request:

So, he stood up and did more!

That'll teach us to say no!

And lastly...fresh from this morning...the first day of school 2009! Which happens to be grandpa George's birthday! Happy birthday grandpa! We love you!

Right to left: 8th grade-Jacob, 6th grade-Bradley, 1st grade-Ryan, Homeschooling still 15 months-Oliver, and my hard working hubby-general contractor-declines to state age but says "good mornin!" yup. I'm pretty proud of this pack of boys :)

Happy back to school all!

Scars that wake me.

2009-08-21T01:13:00.000-07:00

It's just after one in the morning. I was sleeping soundly. God had something to say, and so I type before it's gone.

I wasn't even thinking about today. Today, now that midnight has passed...Today my sweet baby is 15 months old. A year and a quarter. Another notch of growth. He's walking now with increased courage, one of the last major milestones of babyhood. He's a toddler now. Sweet and gentle but growing into a little boy in spite of my heart protests.

I rocked him in my arms before he drifted to sleep and was laid in between his daddy and I. I softly stroked his silken blond hair as I find myself doing so often. Staring at his pudgy cheeks and long fluttering eyelashes as his rose red baby lips part open allowing the snores of well earned slumber to drift out.

He's so perfect. So beautiful. He makes me close my eyes and thank with all my heart. Perfection in the flesh...to me....because I remember. My heart remembers, my mind remembers, my body remembers. My hands-the hands of his mama- can expertly find the slight change in elevation of his scalp, ever so slight, the bumps-two of them, where his infant skull gave way to the masses of pressure angrily unfolding beneath. His horns we called them with fear of what damage would be left behind...and weeks later they shrunk, but never fully went away. Months later they are still present, if you know where to look, even if no damage was ever found...Reminders of the Truth.

I slipped my hand down to his little foot, his tiny heel, warm and tired it was from mastering the newly acquired skill of walking. Little foot that I once kissed each time, every three hours, as it was insulted, tore open, injured for the sake of answers. Bandaids peeled off, blood brought forth, analyzed, and tubes and wires adjusted for the proper blending of internal balance. It was. Slowly the day arrived that it was all unnecessary. Healed and whole as intended on the inside the lines were pulled, the raw feet allowed to heal.

But I feel them. Every line and dot. Every scar. Even the tiny white dot on the inside of his right ankle where the picc line ran all the way to his belly. The small tube, bringer of health, deliverer of balance, tool of the Healer, left it's own mark on his delicate skin.

I think of how much he has grown and how far he has yet to come, this little wonder I get to watch unfold. I think of Kindergarten and first friends, overcoming fear to take the next challenge...and oh how I can tell this boy about fear.

I think of High School, girls, cars, finding his way in life...and oh how I can tell this boy about finding his way.

I think of a man, married, with children...girls I'm sure...and perhaps struggling in life. Life can be hard. It can dish out some scary things....oh what I can tell him of Hope...of Faith...of Love...for all I will have to do, is have him take off his shoes. Perhaps even then, in spite of the manly size and hairy legs, there on his right ankle we can find that small white dot, and the story it has to tell. The small imperfections, intentionally tracked down with expert fingers, the scars that remind us what we walked through and the hope that struggled with us, the faith we found later and the Love that always did prevail.

All that in a tiny white mark.

The tiny white mark of a miracle...and all that it implies.

Multitude Mondays.

2009-08-17T10:44:00.000-07:00

I am in love with Ann's Blog! One of her God lessons given to spread to others is gratitude. Oh how gratitude can change the spirit of a being, inside and out. The mission: find 1000 things to be grateful for and freely share them! I posted before that I was grateful for my little miracle baby Oliver. His life and normalcy I do not take for granted, and daily I am reminded of what could have been. I give thanks every time I see his beautiful face and touch his silky blond curls...oh I could go on and on. But I want to mention a few other things that my heart sings about today.

2. My other babies...my sweet 13 year old. The oldest of four, ever teaching me the lesson that God has given him to me for a brief time, to be his mother, and not his friend. I must teach him the lessons that come with the adult world, and they often come with much resistance. He will be a strong man one day. My 11 year old. If one can be born with a naturally full cup of joy and kindness, this child is one. His only flaws would be his intense burning desire to talk to everyone around him all the time. But I see this as a blessing, for we are created to form relationships with other people-it is our purpose here. This child will be well known at the palace gates one day, mark my word friends. And the 5 year old...I'm so grateful for our bond that is reforming since the birth of the miracle baby. We were best friends, and I was enjoying every minute of being his number one knowing full well what the teenage years will have in store for us and how that bond will change. Along came Oliver in the NICU and Ryan and his daddy formed their own unity-as was needed. I am grateful that dad has so much more significance now, and grateful to be beyond the years of only wanting one parent...I am loved again by the sweet "Squishy man."

3. Nothing makes me grateful lately like surfing the blogsphere. We are one small world joined together on the internet in many ways and there are so many hurting and walking through trials I could not even imagine. When I think my torment was so big, I am quickly reminded of others I've read about who are walking through trials bigger than mine ever have been, with grace and faith that can only be given by the Lord. I am reminded that He is enough, His grace is enough, my only job is to believe.

4. I am grateful today for provision. In spite of the economic slump, like the birds in the sky and the worms underground-He has provided for us too. We've not gone hungry for a single meal. We've not been without shelter. We've had the lights off a couple times, but for a mere couple hours. Our home is still our place of dwelling. We even still have both our vehicles-crucial for work and family transportation. All this, in spite of 6 months of zero income.

5. I am grateful for the lessons learned from my step dad. It was not until his death that I fully understood what his "God job" was and the power that came with that message. It has encouraged me to open my own heart...and God and I have had a few pretty deep conversations.

6. There are people all around us, every day that have powerful messages to share-for that is how the Lord works, through the people around us. I am grateful that He has opened my eyes that I may see the messages He wants to share with me. I am willing, able and ready to pass His messages on and I am grateful for being exactly where I am today.

My heart is full to overflowing today. Thank you Ann for planting seeds in the blogsphere, I am blessed by being able to catch one!
~with love that still never ever fails...
RF

A faith building Friday.

2009-08-14T07:47:00.000-07:00

If He healed at our every prayer request, cured our physical ailments, performed miracles in the lives of all we love and pray for, bailed us out of our problems, then our faith would only exist out of convenience and comfort.

I still don't understand why. Why He allows some to suffer and others to walk away unscathed. Why tiny innocents and old sinners alike walk through hell on this earth. He can, but sometimes He doesn't. And that is the hardest truth to swallow.

I do know this though...I see through a scratched and damaged mirror. I do not have the crystal clear image. I am looking at a tree in the forest. I often remind myself when I linger on the questioning of God and His intentions that I do not have the ability to hang a single star in the sky. I cannot part the Ocean...I cannot even part the bath tub if I tried. I do not possess super God powers. I am a mere mortal. I do not desire those superpowers for with them come responsibility that I am not worthy of. Those decisions are for the Creator alone.

My Bible tells of fourty years in the dessert, and manna that was provided from Heaven. There was no alternative food, and God stepped forward and supplied what was needed. The day the arrived in the promised land, the manna stopped. He can and does...as needed. Perhaps it is not so much that we desperately need the miracles we seek. Perhaps what we need is within reach more times than we care to admit.

I have to trust. I have to. I have to trust that He will provide what I absolutely need, and allow me the dignity to work to provide what I can for myself. He grants miracles according to His plan for His people and that includes me.

I still have no answer for the question why. And at times like a fly to the bug zapper I bounce wanting badly to fully understand, but I do not get to. My answer today is to not ask. I am not the parent in this situation. I know from being the parent with my children that there are many things they do not understand and they have to put their trust in me to make decisions that are best for them, and offer them information in my own timing, when I know it's right for them.

Such is the faith of a child.

My answer today is to trust. Like a child learning to ride a bicycle down the sidewalk, I trust my Father to hold me up until He knows I can pedal alone. I may not like the street I'm on, sometimes it flies by so fast, and the pavement looks so hard. I want my helmet to cover my whole body and to never feel pain again, but I know the truth. I will fall again, and I will get scratches, or even broken bones. But I know who my Healer is, I know who my support is, I know who runs beside me arms ready cheering me on this journey.

Wordless Wednesday. Edition 1. Starring: Ryan-5 Oliver-14 mo.

2009-08-12T09:02:00.000-07:00

Superhero gratitude faith praise rambling.

2009-08-08T13:57:00.000-07:00

So I had this thought today. Well, I can't really go into it fully without a little background story. You like stories right? This is where I pull the "my blog" card and proceed anyway.

When I was little, I used to wish for super powers. No, that's not entirely true. The truth is, I was kinda obsessed with super powers. I didn't just wish. I prayed. I coveted. I desired. I dreamed. I probably cried. I can't remember. If I could, I wouldn't admit it. Ok fine I did.

Anytime I watched a movie that had anything to do with a special power, I'd be lost in the land of desire for days. The movie "Firestarter" had me going for longer than days. I'd blow dry my hair and stare in the mirror as it blew like the girl in the movie and pretend I was lighting my house on fire. I know. Time well spent.

Truth be told, like any kid growing up in their own skin, I just wanted to be great. Greater. Better. I suppose as I was growing the facts of life were sinking in, as they do to us all at some point. We realize that the whole motto of "be whatever you dream to be" has some limitations. And I'm not just talking super power on that one. You know...how the little boys realize that although basketball is a great profession, odds are not on your side, and you should probably have a "plan B." Somehow, lots of us end up being fast food workers, or janitors, or stay at home bloggers. I'm not saying none of those are bad professions...I just mean, they likely aren't what the person once dreamed of. It was precious dream. Being great. Someday.

And then life goes on.

Today I heard a phrase...well it was a lengthy script on a TV show that I was watching on Netflix. In short the message was hey, what's the point of having a super power? I mean...so what if I could fly? Then what? I fly around, race to NY city and back and then what? Stare at a guy being mugged and be able to do nothing, because...I can only fly.

It made me think. Ponder. It melded in my brain with the recent Facebook quiz I took: "what is your useless superpower?" How could I resist? My quiz showed my superpower was glowing. *sigh* Hey, cool, I could like, light the way for a bunch of train wreck survivors in the subway.

Assuming they knew the way.

Cause I sure wouldn't. Anyone who knows me would attest to that. But, they would at least see. Me. Glowing.

Even Firestarter seems kinda dumb now. I mean I suppose if your lost in the wilderness and need some heat and I happen to stumble across you (I might. With a bunch of train wreck survivors.) then hey, we'd be warm. We may starve to death, but we'd starve warmly.

Is the point sinking in? Should I move on? It's kind of getting dreary here. And sad. That super powers are pointless. There goes that retirement plan. All those dreams...

So the thought processes rolled on. (I spend a lot of time on some of these ya know) I started thinking about where these powers come from. I mean, I know they are all Hollywood, none of it's real, but in the stories, where do they come from? Perhaps it will help understand the significance, or appeal I suppose.

(Disclaimer: I have four boys, grew up with my brother and dad and although I'm a bit of a sci-fi nerd, I claim no professionalism or accuracy in my superhero reports. In other words if the names/details are fuzzy, try and get my point and not hung up. This disclaimer is mostly for the singular male reader I may have. Probably my brother. You start comic book correcting me via emails and I will quit talking to you. Wait, you might like that. I'll talk to you more...yes...call you every day!)

Ahem.

Spiderman was bitten by a genetically engineered spider. Doc Oc and Sandman were altered by accidents --in Doc's case it was self inflicted. Okay, Superman was an alien...I suppose how they got their powers really doesn't affect good vs. evil. I then think about Batman. Batman had no super powers. No really, he didn't. He actually fell down a dark well as a small child and had the holy crap scared out of him, shortly thereafter watched his parents get murdered before his very eyes. Those kinds of things change people. In his case he wanted to fight evil. But the change is not always for the good.

Lightbulb!

It's not how we got our power. Well, for that matter it's not what our power even is. It's how we choose to use it. I suppose spider man could have said "hey cool I can shoot webs and swing around off tall buildings" and just left it at that. He could have impressed some dates, had nice camp outs in large hammocks at the top of the city and gone about his merry way. Superman could have been the star quarterback in school, flown around at night giving Spidey in his hammock a high five, and all the while kept his power under wraps. And batman could have easily...super easily in my opinion... played the poor rich kid who watched his parents get brutally murdered and now has a drinking problem.

But they didn't. And that's why we pay millions in the box office every time one of these movies is released. What makes them fascinating is that they become something better. They still have life circumstances happen. They still experience death and love, anger and fear. But they make a choice to believe in something bigger. They choose to have faith in something they don't fully understand. They throw all logic to the wind and step off that building, half believing and half hoping that they will fly. And they do. And we all cheer.

They choose to act. They choose to run into the fire and pull out the lost child in the smoke, they choose to head towards the chaos when everyone else runs away...they know they have a gift that they can use, a gift no one else has, and they realize it's not about their own comfort and pleasure (although I'm sure giant hammocks are indeed comfy and impressive). They choose to accept themselves and their circumstances as gifts and when faced with fire, when faced with really dark caves and bats swirling all around them, when faced with mean woman beating drug dealing thugs...they choose to do the next right thing. They find the strength to put their chins back up and try.

I guess that's the point of my post today. Sometimes life is discouraging, frustrating, sad, painful or plain ole boring. But today I happen to believe in the giver of super powers. And that changes how I choose to respond. I happen to believe that He gifted me with something far greater than flying. He opened my eyes to the truth. In spite of awful situations and circumstances that have seemed bigger than me...seething in their own powers...He gave me what I needed to make it through, intact. The proof is that I'm here before you. All I had to do was try. All I had to do was get up off the bat cave floor in the dark, and take a step forward. All I had to do was put my stock in Him with shaky faith and choose to move forward. He has done the rest. And in the end, because of the favor He has shown to me...to us...I have gotten to stand at the end of battle, hands on my hips, chest puffed out, cape flapping in the wind behind me.

Who needs Firestarter?

I'm not proclaiming to be done. I'm not saying that life doesn't have more to dish out for me. I guess I'm just saying I found the giver of the powers. I was offered the red pill and the blue pill and I picked the right one. And He's done right by me. I hope you know Him too. I hope through my struggles you have learned to trust Him too. I hope you discover your own super powers and give Him credit too. He made us pretty wonderfully, and in His own image...

The tights are totally optional.
RF

Health.

2009-08-07T13:20:00.000-07:00

Oh man do I love this topic. (read my sarcasm) So here's a somewhat random fluffy post...

bah dum psssh!

Ok but seriously, gonna be real honest here...since the death of my step dad in May I have dropped 10 pounds. (from not eating and stressing) then I put it back on. I realized how good it felt in spite of the circumstances and got back in the groove of "healthy" losing the ten pounds again. (spin cycle sally here) I've often gone from healthy eating to exercising like mad, but struggled to find a balance of both.

Well...here's my public confession and accountability...I'm try try trying again. And I'm down 13 something pounds. I'm not so public to confess my actual weight...(does any woman do that?) but I put a ticker at the very bottom of my blog to keep track of my progress. I wanted one (a ticker) for encouragement for my own eyes, but since I have to copy and paste the code somewhere...well welcome to my weight loss/health gain world! Aren't you glad you stopped by? What better place to bear your soul than the entire internet world?

Here's some of my reasons for making this a priority these days. These are more for my own self to have a reminder, but feel free to share the inspiration with me!

1. Heart issues run in my family. Well...I think. My grandpa died of heart related issues.

2. A couple relatives struggle with cholesterol and or BP issues of which could not be controlled by diet. Not fun.

3. I'm not in my twenties anymore even though the facebook app said I was age 20. Ha!

4. I refuse to buy new clothes until I shed some f.a.t. and I'm running out of size ___ everything. (I hear this is common as well for us women)

4.5 My husband is the opposite of me, being rather underweight for his height. Thus, I cannot steal his clothes. My options are now limited to losing weight or soon being in the nude. God help us all.

5. I want to give these pictures to his first real girlfriend someday. That requires longevity of life. Cheetos are not my friend. They are not helping me meet this goal.

Is that last one great or what? I said the "n" "o" word and he lost his sanity...shhh! Don't say that too loud!

6. Seriously though, like a smoker trying to quit, my main goal is for health. I want the energy back to keep up with four boys.

I won't lie: Blue jeans will be nice again too. Perhaps I'll have the courage to one day post some pictures. :)

For now...someone short and cute has spilled popcorn all over my living room floor....and all over the couch. Before we head outside for some fun I'll be cleaning up that mess!

...With the vacuum.

I am that crazy lady.

2009-08-02T12:08:00.000-07:00

The one I swore never to be. I made that oath in the blind innocence of my ignorant youth. But, things changed. And like the old people who went crazy before me, I don't even care. I'm not really sure what happened. Somewhere along the lines someone exposed me to the truth. Or perhaps my own perspective changed. My eyes got opened. I learned what priorities where. Somehow I can't seem to go back. The longer I'm here, the more I like it and I don't want to go back.

You see, one of the boys said something about how bad it sucks school is starting back up in a couple weeks. For some reason the words, or perhaps the sad pouty face behind that statement got to me. The hair on my neck raised. School is a privilege. Don't they know that? Perhaps they don't...have I ever told them that? I told him the story of Brenda.

I read a story in the news about a woman who was raped and choose abortion as an answer to her unwanted results. She didn't think she would love the child, wasn't ready to be a mom and couldn't afford it. I don't want to judge, I'm not saying she wasn't in a crappy situation, or that she didn't go through hell, but, it made me think of the story of Maria & Hope.

I went to WalMart. Oh God how WalMart can change ones mood...often times for the worse. I saw children everywhere, usually wanting. I want I want I want. And parents, tired, wrung out, frustrated, muttering every excuse in the book-anything but a simple "no." Because "no" has become a sin to say to your children? Kids pout, yell, protest in ways that kids always have. But instead of firmness, I see guilt in the parents eyes these days. It's an odd role reversal that grosses me out honestly. I'm not even sure why.

Oh how I wanted to be the crazy lady right then and there. I remember being told "eat your dinner, there are starving kids in (fill in the blank cause they're everywhere). As a child, how I wanted to dump my plate into an envelope and offer it up, mostly to call the bluff of the adult.

You see, the difference now-with me the adult is...I have proof. I'm not just repeating a rumor here. I have proof for my kids that there are starving children. In my case I have two pictures on my office wall of little girls...one in Honduras and one in Colombia....and these aren't even the worst areas. One girl is in sandals, with naked feet....standing in front of her home. A palm tree of sorts is the roof, press board walls and a dirt floor. There is no cement, no corrugated tin roof. Pretty poor in my book. They can't afford the clothing required to send her to school. Or the pencil and paper to do her lessons on.

And he complained about going back in a couple weeks. I'm sorry, but that just won't do. Not now. Not anymore. You see, I love America, but with our one nation goggles on, we just aren't seeing the big picture. To them we are rich. I always thought like most others...rich was a house of a certain demensions, with servents, and gold lined (fill in the blank). Rich people owned real china and cabinets for their china. Rich people didn't really give a crud about the price of gas, cause if they did, they weren't rich. Not me, four dollars a gallon was painful. Then for a minute I took off my goggles.

I look again at those eyes watching over me as I balance my checkbook, etch out some funds to pay a bill, or take stock of how much food I need to get to feed these four boys of mine. I realize I already am rich. In funds, but also in spirit. My kids eat more than rice and beans for each meal. Vegetables are a delicacy that many can't afford.

Somehow the perspective in this house has changed a bit. Don't get me wrong, we have our moments still...I caught them fighting over a deck of cards this morning. I had to remind them that some kids don't have a deck of cards. I did get the crazy parent look tossed in my direction.

But hey, if they look at me too crazy...I have proof.

Today.
Vegetables.
Home.
Health.
Blessings overpouring enough to share.
Sweet children to share with.
Love...that still never fails.
Can I be grateful for gratitude? I am. :)

RF

Feet. Scripture. Compassion. Friday!

2009-07-31T10:35:00.000-07:00

Humility...to be humble ...our humble naked feetsies.
Mine with my rapidly growing Willow Tree.

Teenage feet splashing in the water as the sun sets.

Chunky Monkey feet soaked with water and still splashing!

Lil Boy feet...posed perfectly in the puddle, kissed by the sun.

Luke 14:7-14

When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: "When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place. ' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. "

Then Jesus said to his host, "When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."

I enjoy our little humble naked feet pictures, but I have more so enjoyed the ways I have been allowed to bless others. There have been many this year in spite of our own hardships, but I feel that sharing them all would not be a very humble thing. I suppose I am intending to encourage others to reach out to those who so greatly need. (with willing hearts-NO pressure intended)

One of the things I am willing to share is Compassion International. I am weekly amazed at how this organization displays utmost integrity in all it's doings. The assistance they provide for poverty stricken children is quality through and through. The opportunity to have personal relationship with these kids is a blessing. But what amazes me most is the common stories you hear about how it really does help. You are not just throwing your cash away guiltily every month because you were a sucker for a set of sad eyes that you saw on the Internet or TV. First hand you see pictures of what was purchased for your child, you see grades raise, you get letters of thanks and gratitude and you hear stories of how school was prioritized, education achieved and lives changed. The cycle of poverty is broken-with one simple sponsorship! That to me is a huge blessing to watch unfold and I am so honored to be blessed enough to help.

I want to share about "my" two girls that I sponsor, but that will come later. I thought for today I would just introduce the concept, my feelings on it all and some cute feet pictures! Cause it's "Footsie Friday" or something like that.

Lastly, please feel no pressure internety friend. I know God only wants cheerful givers...and it took me a long time to qualify myself. But should you feel a burning with a happy heart, there's a link on your right. You don't have to sponsor the child you see...you can follow links back to Compassion International and pick someone else. Follow your calling. I have four boys, and wanted to sponsor girls. Perhaps and age, country, birthday or gender are calling you. There's an easy search engine on the main page for such specifics.

Now-off to start some lunch for some naked footed boys!

Fresh and New

2009-07-30T11:05:00.001-07:00

Little hands that help water (but not pull weeds) leave the hose behind to trickle while we examine the fruit-gifts.

Rapidly we find that the Robins love baby bell peppers, leaving open stem wounds where they have taken the loot for a morning breakfast. He provides for the birds too.

Tomato's, just turning fiery orange and red, soon ripe for picking are watched with eager eyes.

Baby barrel cacti, almost too many to count, hanging off mother with tiny spikes aplenty.

And the first batch of a newly planted strawberry vine. Green turns to white and then shades of pink and red take over. Ryan had first taste-strawberry juice running down his chin, they were sweet and delicious. More to come in late summer-oh the lessons in patience.

Summer spaghetti squash. Blended with simple water and jarred up for months worth of baby nummies! Healthy. Wholesome. Home fresh.

The littlest gardener, working in the natural state of baby hood. Hands feet and tush covered in dirt and water...mud. Slapping the cement and proclaiming in his own words that outside is amazing! My beautiful sun kissed helper-reclaims the lonely hose in the grass and gets back to work helping things grow and bloom. He is one of my biggest bounties and doesn't even know it! Thank you God for fruit and vegetable, cacti and flower, teenagers and infants and love that grows between.

Enjoying outside~

Consumption is what counts.

2009-07-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I walk it alone. Because He asks me to lead. I don't want to. The desires of my flesh want to be the naughty one. The one to thrash, the one to anger, the one to release and not practice self control. To feel good in the moment. But someone must set the example in a home needing examples. I step up to the plate because it's what one does in this situation.

I suppose that's the contrast. How opposites can attract...or more how opposite traits can balance each other out. Meeting anger with peace, frustration with gentleness, fumes with joy. And placing it all daily in Someone Else's hands so that I can continue with where ever it is He is leading me.

Daily is pretty good. Daily, these days, I don't mind being in the lead as much as I once did. Daily these days I enjoy watching as separate relationships with Him are created and maintained. I enjoy watching things soften. I enjoy peace. The fury of storms I must ride out in my own life have been calmed these days and I enjoy the rest, be it fleeting or not.

How do I read? How do I consume the book of His words? Sometimes I steal it behind a locked door...A quiet moment to myself.

Sometimes alone with tears and longing in my heart.

But mostly with a heart of prayer. In several different versions, however He speaks to me that day I do my best to listen. It's consumption that matters, not how. Just creating the open door.

For I know my forever home is not here. I know that today with all my heart. I know what matters in the very end. I've watched one take his last breaths and wondered what conversations he was having with the Man upstairs as his earthly body failed him. The accountability. There are some things I don't want to have to discuss with The Father someday, so I don't want them to happen. Prayer and Words my prevention for awful mistakes. I pray for the fruits to show in my life that I can wash my hands clean of this world someday, purpose having been met, job accomplished well done and go on with joy...and no regrets. Alone or not. I keep walking.

Balance.

2009-07-28T11:05:00.000-07:00

A pile of dishes, half rinsed, set by my kitchen sink. Loads of laundry, clean but setting in wrinkles awaits on my living room floor. Toys and paperwork here and there. Plenty left undone.

A band of boys, restless and eager finishes dinner with gulping and sloshing. Burgers in tummies, home cut fries adding fullness to the peak, cold juice and milk the finishing touch, they ran to get ready.

Flip flops, swim shorts, towels hung over broad shoulders...we took the 6 block trek to the local pool. The fat summer sun sinking into the horizon behind the train tracks barely giving relief to the over 100 degree oven heat of the day, we made our way.

My littlest of miracles, uncertain, clings to daddy-- safe strong and warm who slowly eases him into the funnest of summer experiences.

Uncertainty and fear left behind, like dirty dishes and chores at home. An hour of glee swimming in the big pool.

Sometimes we intentionally leave it all behind and put fun first. No regrets. A little balance.

Always Enough.

2009-07-27T09:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I pictures his sandal clad feet walking by mine. No matter the struggle. No matter if I acknowledge His silent presence or not. It does not change the truth. He walks. By me.

I see so many as they walk through their own struggles in the universe. Strangers connected by experience, by emotions, by compassion, by prayer. I know He walks their alongside them as He did me.

I still feel overwhelmingly grateful that I walk a different path than they do today. The gratitude never ceases for the narrow escape of which He parted paths of death and destruction to shelter us through.

I look at my child, velvet skin kissed lightly by the sun, blue eyes like jewels shimmering wet, silken curls irresistible to touch...and all the unseen... Every organ and cell in perfect alignment with what the Creator intended as He worked magic in my very womb not so long ago.

A little rebel at 14 months gives me dirty looks as he throws his morning cereal to the floor, points to the door and demands "out" with strength of will and spirit unmatchable by even giants.

He is but one of my "thank yous" that I am privileged to walk with a while here on earth. But, he is a big one. Pure. Whole. Complete. Healthy.

More than enough.

His Birthday.

2009-07-22T19:17:00.000-07:00

It is the eve of his birthday today. Our first to walk through in his absence. Our hearts frown. We go about our normal business, shopping, running errands. Driving home, the tell tale signs of road tragedy. Lights. Police. Ambulance. I see two motorcycles, cars, people standing, staring. Police waving people by. I see a helmet on the sidewalk. I see a man half on the sidewalk, half off. He's being attended to by several paramedics. I see his arm stretched out and his hand limp. I divert my eyes and the tears stream full force from my perch of safety in the passenger seat of his vehicle left behind. Husband pats my leg, tries to assure me that sidewalk fellow is breathing. It does not console me. My tears flow well past home.

I finally find myself in a moment of silence, in my dimly lit bedroom, once again fingering the beautiful blond ringlets on my baby boy. I think of all that's changed in two months, how much he has missed. I still half expect to hear his voice or see him come through my door to see "his boys." They are growing.

My heart longs tonight. I read the quote I found and shared and it brings me comfort...but the pain is still so deep and raw.

I let it be.

Posting here, I return now to "my boys" to stretch out on the living room floor, with garlic popcorn and watch a movie. His presence is in my heart, his memory stays close. His absence in physical form reminds me to cuddle and love, grateful for every moment, for inevitably nothing lasts forever.

Tonight I cherish.
RF

Quote I just found and fell in love with.

2009-07-21T23:11:00.000-07:00

"Love is the greatest because even when the pain comes, and it will because pain is the underbelly of love, nothing can ever steal love's joy. Even when the love seems gone, a memory, the joy of that memory still remains, always. And so the love remains forever."

~Ann Voskamp

Monday Monday.

2009-07-20T16:24:00.000-07:00

What a weekend! We went on a somewhat spontaneous camp trip with some of husbands family. It was exhausting. First off, let me just say I am glad that we all got along so well. Those of you who know our history, know that's a big deal. This was the same family that lived with us a month after Ollie was born...We went to Ice House Reservoir. I have heard this is an awesome place to go camping. I personally was not super impressed. Looking back I realize that I have done a lot of camping in my life, so perhaps I have somehow gotten more refined taste when it comes to expectations of camp.

It was great having the water close by, but there was a lot of drama on the camp grounds. One site got kicked out for noise. Other's got DUI's and tickets for throwing axes and knives at trees. The folks in the site next to ours were so loud that they kept us up til 3am the first night in spite of our asking them repeatedly to please quiet down. There was a ton of dust and loose dirt, which makes breathing rather difficult. We had 5 adults and 7 kids so the dirt was constantly getting kicked up and landing everywhere!

I think the hardest part was camping with a 13 month old. He's not quite walking but can get around enough that he wanted to be put down. He knew what he was missing. Unfortunately this meant that he would be like a pig in the mud! He was instantly covered in dirt when we set him down. Now as a mom of four boys, dirt does not scare me...but this dirt...was a special breed. It sticks in chunks to everything-especially baby skin. There are no showers at this camp ground and after trying to wash him somewhat clean twice in one day either at the ice cold lake, or with a camp shower that was solar warmed (but held not near enough water) we decided to just keep him out of the dirt. This meant most of the day he was in a playpen or a tent. He did not like being restrained from the dirt. It made the trip all the more difficult.

To add to our woes, Ryan had been running a fever for a few days before we left. But we decided to continue with the plans because the fever was mild, and he had no other symptoms. Saturday night I came down with a fever and cough. I'm thinking whatever Ry had mutated into some sort of mommy homicidal bug. It tried to kill me. I do not recall the last time I was that sick. I was literally hallucinating while laying in my tent staring up at the trees. I was so cold I thought I would die because of the fever. Trying to sleep on the ground, nurse a baby and share a sleeping bag with a man who thinks he is in his own bed while being sick....let me just say home never felt so good to come back to! After a hot shower, some pizza and a movie, I was in my own bed by 8pm last night. Today I'm still feverish and feel yucky, but being at home makes it tolerable! Bradley has joined the rankings of the sick, and Oliver and hubby seem to be giving tell tale signs they are next in line. Somehow my oldest son is immune. Thank God for that because his help with the baby has been immeasurable!

So, I don't want to post all about how bad the weekend sucked! There were some pretty cool moments. Saturday morning, after not falling asleep til 3am, we were up at 5am for some reason. Will walked down by the water to watch the sunrise and after a few minutes I followed him. We stood on a big rock for a minute right at waters edge and watched the sun dance over the lake. It was beautiful. We then went back to camp (about 50 feet away) to be close in case the baby woke up. We talked for a couple hours in whispers, and made coffee. It took three tries to get the camp coffee to percolate correctly and finally get "that perfect cup." Oliver woke up and just the three of us had a sleep deprived, but enjoyable early morning before everyone else started to wake. That was the best part for me!The boys spent countless hours in the water, and I wish I would have made it down to the lake more than I did. It was great for the older kids. Camping is just hard with a baby. It's a lot more work! But, on the way home I turned to the kids in the back seat and asked if they had fun. I got a unanimous "yes." That makes it all worth it. Next time though, we are going towards the ocean...and the sand...

PICTURES!!

Like a band of gypsies all packed in the Explorer we head for the hills!

"Uncle Choo Choo" (Will's little brother Matthew) caught a bullfrog and gave it a kiss! The kids loved checking out the critters.

My perfect morning cup of coffee, Ollie snuggles and the sun coming up behind me on Saturday morning. Was a beautiful few hours of serenity in spite of the lack of sleep.

Husband making a warm morning fire.

The child who is now no longer ill.

Baby Ollie in the dreaded baby jail play pen. He drops his ball, playing drop and pick up with anyone who walks by.

You would think Uncle Choo Choo would know better than to try and sleep in around us. Not only did his tent get collapsed, they stuck a hyper Chihuahua inside first, zip tied it shut, then collapsed as he snored away. The drama that followed had us all laughing so hard our sides hurt!

Ollie and daddy hanging out in the hammock chatting with Ryan.

Bradley Allan spent the weekend here...jumping off this rock.

Babies on the shoreline playing in the sand. I adore Olivers shorts that are way to big! So sweet!

If you have ever seen the movie Jumanji then you will know what I mean when I say these bugs were amazing and creepy and just like they were from that movie!

Oliver and his cousin Travis, in the same onesie...getting to know eachother. (Travis is 6 months, Ollie is 13 months) Adorable!

Mikey, Spike and Nina enjoyed camping...and the droppings of hot dogs most of all!

A sweet black and white of my littlest happy camper!

And that is it on the pictures! I'm still feeling kind of crummy so back to bed for me!

Bound.

2009-07-15T12:51:00.000-07:00

They follow me. Or I follow them. Because of what we walked through with Oliver, I notice, and am constantly reminded of others suffering fates similar or worse. Blogs come to me from various places, and I pray for families I do not know. It maybe a form of obsession, or perhaps it is therapeutic to me to pay it forward in a time of strong faith for those that are weak in theirs.

I know those dark days filled with hospital rooms, IV's, nurses, strangers...a world inside of our own, often filled with distress. I know all to well, and although many suffer fates much worse than ours was, the whiff that we got was enough to chill me to the bone. ...the valley of the shadow of death...full of the most innocent of all, our children.

I continue to be filled with gratitude because my son, thus far, is normal. This in itself is a miracle that took a long time for me to understand and confess. Each day that I spend with him, free from those rooms, I treasure beyond what words have the capacity to express.

Today I pray for one family in particular. For whatever reason, she has touched me deep. I have been following her story from day one, but just now am posting because I know and believe that the people with hearts of prayer that so fervently prayed for my sweet baby, can offer that faith and prayer for this family too. They seem to need it. I see her mother go through the same moments of hope dashed by new information and people pointing out reality and statistics. The roller coaster of walking through something like this sucks. I spent mere weeks...they have months and months....

Kate McRae is a five year old-blond haired, blue eyed, all American angel. She has brain cancer. She also has two siblings. Her family is embarking on a journey most of us pray to never ever experience. It rips you between your healthy and your sick children. It takes away time that you can never get back, you can never do over. Powerless, you simply follow the path laid before you.

But friends, if you will allow it to touch you today, perhaps you could pray for them, perhaps God can touch your heart and speak deeply to you through this little girls story. If nothing else may you grasp a tiny bit just how precious they are-and hold them closer for just a moment in your own form of giving thanks.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/mcraekate/journal

Watching, hoping, believing and praying!
RF

My French Fries.

2009-07-13T11:53:00.000-07:00

"Not because He will, but because He can."

The outcome is already determined. Perhaps it is the relationship He seeks? He does not use it to initiate relationship. He did not cause it. He may fix it. And the hardest part to swallow is that He may not. There is no formula. There is not a special prayer that guarantees the outcome we desire. He is not controlled by the words that come out of our mouths. But He so wants relationship with us.

A father sits with his son at McDonalds. He asks his son for a french fry from his happy meal. The son says "no way!" and continues munching. Like the father, God does not want our french fries to cure His hunger. He does not need them and honestly, He could have His own. The father could get out his wallet and go buy his own fries. It is the relationship, the willingness, the love deep enough to share that he so badly wants of his child. He could hold the son down and take the fries, but he wants the child to make the choice on his own. He wants.

We learn to walk with Him, regardless of the pains that currently engulf us. Not because we know He will cure our present troubles.

We walk with Him still because He could if He so chose, and that puts Him in the position of Lord.

He cares enough to seek relationship with us, He wants us; and that makes Him our Father.

He made us, pure, exact, detailed, breathing life for He is our Creator.

He began this journey, Alpha.

He alone knows where it will end, Omega.

He knows the answers that we, like Job do not, including the answer to the question we dare to ask in our deepest anguish.

This makes Him God.

How we walk with Him, or don't, is entirely our choice. For if you love someone let them go...and if it is meant to be...

I do know this; every knee will bow and every tongue will confess. Our feelings for Him, are irrelevant. We go to one place upon our departure here. We all will submit to the King and confess that...oh wow....He is! I know when I get on my knees one day, it will be with happiness that He is in fact my Father-my favorite of all His names. I will gladly confess and then, I will offer Him my french fries.

Pictures.

2009-07-07T12:12:00.000-07:00

The fourth was an awesome day filled with cousins and family and so much fun! A parade and professional fireworks, followed by a second all American dinner of ribs, corn on the cob, corn bread, potato salad, and strawberry/blueberry shortcake. We then shot off our own fireworks. There were cousins everywhere!

The fifth the boys went fishing with Uncle Pete. They came home smelling of swamp and nearly tracked those muddy shoes across my carpet! They were exhausted and had fish stories a plenty!

The sixth we got up and jumped on board with my in laws for a spontaneous trip to San Francisco..and that's what all these pics are of!

Turning out to be a fun filled summer after all!

The cousins on the Fourth! Minus Erich, because he had to leave early. These guys partied til well past midnight!

Sleeping on the drive down. They sure do look alike when they are asleep. What is it about sleeping kids that makes you want to snuggle them?

The boardwalk type floors just after you check in have see through glass circles. There were Ray fish and fish as big as five year olds swimming below. Sharks even. It was amazing!

The cool white Croc. This pick was right after he swam full speed into that post by his nose. He then just kinda floated with all fours spread like this for a minute. The kids had the giggles about it all. I think he may be blind? They made him his own swamp. Someone forgot the hazard sign by the post. It was a neat exhibit.

We spent a good 20 minutes doing this. I don't think he has ever seen fish. Let alone an aquarium the size of his house with fish as big as him.

He would not close his mouth he was so awed by it all!

Bradley was impressed as well.
They all got to touch real starfish too!

If you are 13 months old and sick of looking at fish that could eat you for a snack. Push your own stroller through the crowd. This is great fun!

"I am 13 and waaaay to cool to pose like this" But he loves him mom, and follows directions. (He liked the turtles and lizards too)

What else do you do in the amazon rainforest?

Yes, Bradley lightly touched a butterfly the size of his hand.

Ry was so proud he could read this sign all by himself!

In the jungle! This would be the boy who wanted to name our baby "Tarzan."

On the way out.

??????????????? Goodbye weird San Francisco....

First time eating fruit snacks. It was awesome until it stuck to his finger like a sticky booger and he could not for his life flick it off! So he screamed until I rescued him from the finger leeching fruit snack. Poor baby.

Sleepin on the way home. Under Grandpa Allan's old motorcycle sweatshirt. Sweet dreams little one.

Possibly.

2009-07-06T22:07:00.000-07:00

I may or may not have gone to San Francisco today.
I may or may not have gone with previously bashed family members.
I may or may not have actually had a good time.
I may or may not have pictures.
I may or may not share with you after I get some sleep.

See how sleep effects your ability to make decisions?

Ask me why I am blogging instead. Or, don't.

I may not answer.

~RF

~Military Roll Call~

2009-07-03T18:40:00.000-07:00

Never does a day go by that I am not aware of the privileges we have in this country. I'm not saying it does not have it's flaws. It's not all great. Our health care system is one example of a long rant of mine, but not the purpose of this post. It's not all white picket fences, and barefoot kids running through sprinklers. We have our flaws. Parts of our government suck. Parts always will I suppose.

We believe. That's what matters today. We believe in better. We are allowed to believe, and to hope, to dream and to try. We are allowed to break down barriers and have a say in our own future. My children may never be many things great or amazing...but they could be. And they are free to hope for it, dream it, and believe it whole hearted. And for that, today, I am grateful. Today, even if my yard has no white picket fence, it does have a group of barefoot boys, running through a very cold wet sprinkler, and one huge American flag flying high. No one will take any of that away from us today, and I am very well aware of why. It's one my responsibilities as a mama to pass down that gratitude to my barefoot kids.

I wanted to start a post, of a few folks, off the top of my head that I know have done their part for our sweet country. I also wanted to open the door in the comments section for anyone who wanted to add a "Thank You" or a name or two that I mistakingly left out or wasn't aware of. As I watch the fireworks on this Fourth of July, 2009, you better believe I have some of your faces dancing through my mind, and chills on my arms.

~Forever Grateful~

Randi Fay

Thank you for your service with utmost respect:

First and foremost my two dads~ George Masten and my step-dad Allan Dahlquist. Next would be an awesome young man, who will be leaving for boot camp to start his own military journey in September Erich Andersen. (We'll be writing kiddo.)

My uncles~Dewey Andersen. Kao Akana. My Grandfather James Masten.

Some last names- I'm aware of at least one family member who has served (or currently are serving): The Duzans, The Sterchis, The Diazs, The Hayes, The Luccis, The Cunninghams, and those of you who I have mistakingly forgotten, please forgive my scattered mama brain, but know my hearts gratitude is pure and deep!

And to the mamas and wifes and families who quietly hope, pray, watch and cheer from the sidelines~Thank You too!

Fly your flags today! Thank our God whom we place our trust in! Eat BBQ and Watermelons, run around barefoot, scream, shout and simply put friends...Be FREE!

Love still never fails~

RF

Welcome my friends :)

2009-07-03T09:22:00.000-07:00

Hi again! Okay I promise not to jerk you around anymore! Promise! First and foremost, thank you for your patience as I work out the kinks. I am familiar with the one page blog thing, and there are multiple issues with that other site I was using...including frequent "down time" for maintenance. From the creating position, there were multiple frustrations and flaws. But I liked the idea of pages. Not anymore! Welcome to http://www.withnakedfeet.blogspot.com/. Faithful followers know all my blogs are done here. I guess it's my "cup of tea."

May I orient you? No, I'm not Asian. My husband sort of is. That's another post. Along the right hand side you will find my lonely donate button, my favorite blog links as was on the last website, a tad about me, and when a book comes out (I promise, it will) it can be found on that side as well. My posts from the last website I transferred over and can be found below, or in the archives. If you are a fan of either of the two other sites I have worked on (www.ourstorystartshere.blogspot.com or www.allandahlquist.blogspot.com) you have to go there to see old posts...I'm so not copy/pasting all into one!

I'm not sure how to do a "members" thing so I can email blast when I update. I would however like to encourage you to be a "google follower" that would be located on your right as well. I would adore some feedback on that one...like if it notifies you when I post, or how it works from your end...

I am also contemplating (and if these short people that call themselves my children would let me think for five minutes) setting up twitter/facebook add on links. I have seen other blogs do this, they claim it's easy, and links us all as one big happy fat family. Sounds fun. I'm all about fun. Until it's not. Then, I'm outtie.

None the less, I hope you enjoy! Please offer feedbacks and I will do my best to incorporate things to make this the most favorite awesomeness site evah!

With love that still never fails...
RF

PS... Guess who is toddling now? I need to go update his site...and add pics...omg he is so flipping CUTE!

Gratitude in a different light...

2009-07-03T09:04:00.001-07:00

Posted at 12:45 PM on June 23, 2009
Gratitude. Do we ever get sick of using this word? Not around here.

I want to ask you today, what you are grateful for? Last night as I drifted off to sleep with my silky curly haired miracle, I was struck once again by the gratitude warm fuzzies You see, for me, last night, it dawned on me as so much more than being thankful for the many blessings in my life. I could easily and actually on another blog of mine, have given a partial list. A list easily flows. But for just a moment I wanted to have you look at gratitude in a slightly different light. And that requires you to start with some imagination…

It is your birthday. You awoke to a bouquet of flowers from your significant other. And a beautiful card signed with a heartfelt I love you and perhaps a personal message with an inside punch line. You know, the ones you save in your file forever? One of those.

You get to work and they’ve passed around an office card, perhaps with a gift certificate for a nice dinner somewhere. Everyone has signed some well wishes and then went about their day. Maybe they even splurged on a cake at lunch.

You come home after a light day, have a nice dinner with your family, perhaps more cake…hugs, kisses, and the day is done you are a year older.

Imagine at this point a knock on your door. You open it to see your best friend in the whole wide world standing there with a bag-an obvious present, tissue paper sticking up, curly ribbons abound. You open that bag and inside you find a gift. Now, I can’t describe the perfect gift for you readers, it would be as unique as each one of you. But, try and play along… You reach in and pull out what at first seems another coffee cup for your vast collection. But you realize it has weight to it. It is a nicely weighted coffee cup. “oh” you exclaim. “Thank you!”

But as you look at the cup you realize it has your absolute favorite picture of you and your friend on the front, your hair is perfect and your smile gorgeous, you look like celebrities. It’s the same photo you have hanging on your wall and you’ve mentioned it before. The cup is also the perfect size, you like ones that fit in your cup holder, but also that are large and hold just the right amount. It’s microwave and dishwasher safe…and the lid screws on, instead of snapping, in fact, it’s leak proof. You recall the day you spilled on your white pants on the way to work. To top it off in perfection, it is your favorite color, down to the correct blending of hues to make the perfect shade. It dawns on you as you look more closely, that someone …this friend really has paid attention to you.

This friend did not buy a last minute bouquet, or sign a pre printed card. They didn’t toss some cash on a gift card. This person made it a point to observe you, to learn your likes and dislikes and give you a gift that is significant to you. They planned ahead and splurged a bit. It matches you like a custom made glove, and that friend knows it. The smile on your face says it all as you hug said friend in appreciation.

Know I want to ask you to think of your real daily life for a moment and not the story I made up…You know that shady parking spot that always seems to be open just for you every morning when you get to work? Have you ever thought that perhaps that tree was planted just for you? As you hop out thinking of how you scored, have you ever looked up and said “thanks”?

Those flowers you walk by in the evening? The ones that are your favorite and so you always notice them? Do you think it is a mistake that they were planted on your path? I walk by an entire wall of very fragrant honeysuckle by my home. I find it no coincidence that it is the same flower purchased for my backyard wedding at my mothers home and is still planted there.

Perhaps today you can look with a different set of eyes at not just the material things and needs God meets for you, but for the little extras that gives, just to see you smile. Look to see how He has surrounded you today, with things you adore, simply because you adore them and they meet your personality so well. You may just be surprised at how much He likes to see you smile, simply because you are His kid and He adores you...

Gratitude never gets old.
Love still never fails.
Smiling with Glee…
RF

A moment of sharing.

2009-07-03T09:03:00.001-07:00

Posted at 02:39 PM on June 19, 2009

I continue to write with frenzy on my first book. It is of course Oliver’s story, a good starting point. I am excited at the jewel of a book it is turning out to be. I’ve struggled with some titles and can’t quite fully name it. That may be an interesting forum discussion…perhaps you all have some insight or opinion?

Father’s Day is this Sunday and my little sweet will be 13 months old. His hair is long and silky and gentle ringlet curls are starting to show. I so enjoy watching him walk on all fours (hands and feet-no knees). He randomly stands up in the middle of the room, holding on to nothing, and is getting better at his balance. He is giggly and has quite a little sense of humor. He is known for putting objects on his head and then flashing a cute flirty face. He’s making jokes, and totally gets them! His favorite words are “dog” and “broom broom” (that’s a car noise, not a cleaning item)

Going over his story and editing and adding much detail brings me back daily to the whole experience. Some of the things are just flat out amazing to me when I see them in hindsight. I still hold gratitude close to my heart.

Often times I find myself just staring at him as he nurses. He sprawls out on my lap, arms and legs stretched wide. He’s not a curled up ball anymore. I look at his open fingertips as he waves his arm around playing while he drinks. His little toes sprawl open as he attempts to grab with his feet anything within range to play with. Still attached to mama’s milk, he looks for mischief. For months we encouraged and reminded him to “open open” tapping his little habitually clenched fists. He has come out of that curled protective posturing and fully embraces the world with sparks in his eyes.

He is one of the greatest loves of my life. I am grateful for him and all my children everyday and I am still reminded how precious health and life are.

When you have the right perspective it all seems fairly simple.

I’ve been praying a lot lately as to where I’m headed on this path. I feel a rising up that I am more than willing to follow. I look for the open doors and I begin to take steps in the direction I am being led. There are good things coming. There are messages to spread. I know that there is plenty in store and I eagerly work to align myself with what it is. I know most certainly that I am to be involved with children somehow-perhaps in many ways…

I am curious as to where God is leading you today. Perhaps we can inspire each other. What things touch your heart? Are you able to respond?

I am opening the doors for more experiences in my life-more ways to serve and more ways to observe and write about life in general.

Back to the book…the book that is going to be as amazing as the tale it tells!

Back from MIA.

2009-07-03T09:02:00.000-07:00

Posted at 11:44 AM on June 11, 2009
I haven't been feeling very artsy. Okay I've been downright quiet. I am not always a plethora of amazing insight.

Just human.

Sorry.

What have I been up to in the last week? Multiple things actually. On the writing front, I now am simultaneously writing 3 books...maybe 4, haven't decided yet. Once my children are sound asleep at night, I take off my mommy hat, put on my nerdy writers glasses and spend until the wee hours of the morning purging the words swimming in my head. Sounds glorious doesn't it? It is. Until the third night of being up until 3am catches up with you.

It also happens to be the last day of school for the kids, one of whom had previously made arrangements for a friend to come stay the night. (I totally forgot) and my youngest (one year old) woke up with green snot and a fever of 103 degrees. Let's not mention the five loads of laundry located in two separate rooms, half clean waiting to be folded and half needing washing. Oh, and the Chihuahua's figured out how to jump the fence. Spent two hours with five kids chasing down dogs with half cup of coffee in my hand this morning. And then the sprinklers came on...

I sit here, slightly damp, thinking about when my last shower was, needing a second cup of coffee with much desperation. But I have priorities you know. Namely you. So here is my accountability post. That's where I have been.

Now, let me just say, I have also spent some time looking for inspiration, as sometimes writers block catches up with me, or I just don't look at the world the same as usual for a week or two. I promise to always come back once my cup is full again. At least to post things like the above. Cause, it's just the truth. I'm all about truth.

But, I did want to share my inspiration with you all. I found a couple more than worthy blogs, and I admit I had a twinge of jealousy at some of the writing. But if you are as addicted to this online blogging thing as much as me, you should totally enjoy them. I put the links on my link page. Look to your left to find it. They are not as random as mine. Some of them tell stories of great life circumstances, similar to mine for those that know me, albeit these womens blogs are from a much deeper place. None the less, they have brought me healing of a sort. Peace. Gratitude. And a little bit of a center that I can rope to and reel myself back in a little bit. I suppose most good bloggers come from a drastic life story of some sorts. Be warned, I spent way too much time reading some of these, they suck you in! For me, it was worth it. A night off from writing to read someone elses stories. I laughed, cried, cheered and felt what it was like to be the reader. It was a blessing.

And, besides, I needed a good excuse to leave that laundry another day or two.

I promise once my books are released,(hopefully by the end of the month at least one will be complete) you will forgive my periodic moments of silence.
If not a book then I'll at least post a picture of some nicely folded albeit slightly wrinkly laundry okay?
TGIF
RF

Remembering.

2009-07-03T09:01:00.001-07:00

Posted at 12:50 PM on June 04, 2009
Those of you who know me, may already know the history here. Those of you who don't, I will fill you in as best I can.

This time last year, my youngest son was in the NICU. We knew he was going to live, we weren't positive what condition he would live out the rest of his life, but things were looking positive.

I was caught in a very small world that has it's own axis inside our world. It was such a long term temporary place. No one is meant to live in the ICU long term. I guess long term is a perception issue as well. It felt like a million years to me. Especially once I knew my baby would survive and have a life. I was anxious to get home and his bruises and wounds seemed so slow to heal. (patience has never been one of my virtues, contrary to popular belief!)

I remember it being the beginning of June, and rain was pouring down outside. I was driving to the hospital in the rain, driving home in the dark in the rain, it's whispered me to sleep at night, and woke me pounding down with fury in the morning.

I sat in rocking chairs in the NICU, hours on end bleeding into days. Rocking and holding, stroking his soft hair, whispering words of love and encouragement. I'd look up to the small, very thick windows in the room that were never meant for opening. The rain streaked down in cascades giving an abstract blurry image of the tops of trees outside-the only thing visible from the third floor.

I held my baby close to my heart and I told him that he would be right as rain. Pure and clean, whole and healthy. And somehow that promise came true.

Only a month ago, I sat by my dad's bedside. I held his hands, I leaned over and whispered my last words into his ears, hoping there was a way he could hear me. I read from his Bible that I bought him 16 years ago one Fathers Day, passages he had underlined. I ran my thumb over his name inscribed in gold on the front cover.

I hoped and prayed that there was a God, and a Heaven of some sort, somewhere. I forced myself to believe in no other option. The alternative sucked. My dad was not alone in his last hours. He was accompanied by love and memories, and the hearts of two women who albeit rockily, loved him literally until his dying moments; my mother and I.

The rain pouring down late that night seemed more than appropriate. It soaked my crocs, my socks and wicked it's way up my pant legs.

The orange glow of outside hospital lights reflected in the puddles. The parking lot was more like a park with beautiful full blooming grown trees that sagged with the weight of the rain. Everything seemed to be weighed down and hunched over.

And then sun, with no hesitation came out for his memorial. It was beautiful and downright hot. The plants were freshly watered, and green and bloomed with color.

Last night, my husband working out of town, left me solo with our four boys. I put them all to sleep and kissed their foreheads. I rocked the littlest one until he dozed off in my arms then gingerly laid him down and went to my back door-the best view of "outside land." It was late and dark and the house was having one of those rare instances...quiet.

I could hear the clock ticking, echoing in the kitchen behind me. A faint tick, tick, tick... There was lightening flashing in the sky above. Bolts of blue zapped across the sky, seemingly right above my house. They jumped from cloud to cloud and I sometimes seemed to flash down what looked like a couple doors down. If heaven could crack open the skies of earth and shine down, lightening must surely be the leaking of that "bright white light." It spider webbed across the sky.

I opened the back door to take a better look. I could then hear the static in the sky. The thunder seemed to rumble piggy backing the lightening. The storm was literally right above my house. I watched the night sky closely it was giving off a beautiful show.

I thought of what I told my five year old just last month when his grandpa died. He asked what you do in Heaven. I told him you help God-among other things. We decided together that grandpa probably had to help pour the rain out, because that's a big God job-there's a lot of rain.

As I watched the flickering blues and heard the static bouncing from cloud to cloud, I could physically feel the electricity in the air. It was powerful and almost overwhelming.

Flash, rumble, static, and the ticking of the clock. There was a powerful underlying message there in that quiet moment. One that seemed to echo in my mind was that time goes on, life goes on...from telling my baby that he would be right as rain, with so much potential, to telling my dad that he'd always be a legend to his grandsons, the storm kept coming. The clock kept ticking.

And then it arrived. With fury like no other. It came down so hard it bounced off the patio and onto my carpet. I stepped back and shut the door, watching it streak down the glass. It poured with such weight and volume, a sadness it seemed, a heavy weight and yet the rain itself seemed joyful to have such release from the confines of the clouds. It flung itself at the ground like it was some sort of trampoline game.

All I could do was make a soft smile through my tears. Such a melting pot of emotions. Gratitude, yet sadness. Gains and losses. I got a good mental image of dad, the way he used to cannonball in the pool with the boys. We'd tease that the pool needed more water. I could see him in the sky last night...flinging his big arms at pools of water, tipping it over the edge of the clouds, aiming just right to drench my back patio. It made me giggle at the thought. I tipped my head to the sky and whispered "thank you." It felt right as rain.

This morning, I put my baby in his stroller and walked to the elementary school to pick up his big brother. The trees were greener. The roses were brighter. There was a freshness in the air. It's an odd place sometimes being this pot of melting emotions. Joy and Sorrow. Gratitude. Moving forward in slow motion, because life does goes on...

RF

Unconditional Stuff

2009-07-03T08:59:00.000-07:00

Posted at 11:49 AM on May 30, 2009
By Request—Unconditional Love.

Yes I do take requests. I do like to listen to the feedback people give me, and if I can make sense of it, make a post about it. Well, perhaps I’ll make a post even if it doesn’t make sense. Thus the random part of this blog, which makes it fun.

Let’s discuss unconditional love shall we?
I like to say what I used to think of unconditional love: It meant I could be a raging teenager, or adult idiot and those that have the misfortune of being blood related to me have to love me anyway. Hey, that’s kinda fun. For me anyway.

But as I grew, I put away those thoughts and slowly, (and unfortunately for my family, it was very slowly)…I learned more about what unconditional love really means. Now I’m no perfectionist, I’m sure there is much more to learn. But for now, I’d at least like to share how the meaning of unconditional love has evolved for me over the last few years.

Let’s start with Webster again, cause I really like Webster: Unconditional: not conditional or limited. See Absolute and Unqualified.

Did I misunderstand high school English when we were told that the definition could not include the word we were explaining?

How about absolute? Absolute: Free from imperfection. Pure. Perfect. Fundamental. Ultimate. Oh yeah, now we are getting somewhere.

Let’s look at unqualified: not modified or restricted by reservations.

Now, all that being said, there’s an overall theme I’d like to point out here instead of a particular word or explanation. “Unconditional” is not referring to the condition of the person being loved.

Wait. Let me make that really clear.

These definitions are not referring to the person receiving.

Uh oh. That means they are referring to…the giver. That begs a second look at those definitions I think. Go ahead, I’ll wait for you.

To me, that means the love I am giving is not limited. It is not conditioned to any particular deserving person. It is absolute, pure, free from imperfection. Because imperfect love would judge and be dished out only to those deserving, right? Ultimate. This brings to mind UFC fighting for some reason. Ultimate is pretty damn tough.
Perhaps true unconditional love is strong. It supersedes boundaries. Yours AND MINE. Which is the beauty of it. It is such a strong message that it is stronger than emotions, circumstances, judgment, and my own hang ups. That’s some pretty potent stuff my friend! Because it does not come from you or me!

In learning about unconditional love and simply practicing as best I can, because let’s face it, I’m no God down here…I have seen many things change.

I approach angry and harsh people in my life with gentleness and love. Perhaps they have changed, or perhaps I have, but the anger has decreased in my life.

I approached my child in the ICU last year with love that was greater than any condition he had or may have and committed to loving him no matter what. He is normal.

I watched my step dad give love-and although he gave it imperfectly, the love itself was perfect. He set such an example of just giving it out, that so many were inspired in his death. I watched a flurry of it go round, and it still is.

The important thing to remember in all my examples is that I’m not claiming my behavior is what made changes. In fact, perhaps people and circumstances were not changed at all, but I was. The giver was changed, simply by giving.

And I have not claimed to give perfectly. Love is a gift that we sometimes think we get to control, which immediately changes the meaning and why it is so often misunderstood. But it’s not ours in the first place. We are to allow it to pass through us and on to where it was intended to be, simply happy to have had it in our presence.

Is this not how our God works? He is present, yes, but not in person. None of us have seen burning bushes, or had our hair turn white. Our God works through us. We people are his hands and feet, and even his breath. We are the ones that carry his message. He passes love through our hearts and onto the hearts of others. If we can simply get out of the way, we would see a truly beautiful thing take place.
And as receivers, we cannot shoot the messengers for being imperfect, we are all imperfect humans. We must always seek the message, for it is the message that is pure and unconditional.

Love transcends the behavior of the receiver as well as the giver.
Love transcends the condition of our body. It can still be felt, even in death.
Even in absence.
It is unaware of time for time is a restriction.
It is not threatening to end a relationship for that is conditional.
It is the silent arm around the shoulder of a mourning friend.
The screams of contagious joy--not needing a reason to be happy, pleased to join in.
It is the contented sigh in the presence of purity.
It is sharing your favorite, even if it comes home with fingerprints.
It is always trying again, even if it means you may get hurt again.
It does not offer anything more than simply itself. Love.

You may want to read that again. It does not offer anything more than simply itself. Anything. That means it doesn’t offer advice, well intended or not, because advice comes after judgment…that one is especially hard to swallow.

I truly believe that for love to be unconditional, it must be in it’s purest most simple form. Straight out love. Period.

Whenever I find myself in a position where I am unable to think of how to proceed. I try the following, and thus far, it has not failed me.

The past is irrelevant. Each encounter with another person is a separate event.

Love. Because, love never fails. It never has. It never will.

Naked. Bare. Nude.

2009-07-03T08:58:00.000-07:00

Posted at 01:51 PM on May 26, 2009
Why naked feet?
There's something about naked feet. They speak volumes. Most other body parts when naked don't say much except "cover me back up!" Naked feet can express many things:
-poverty
-rebellion
-freedom
-comfort
-humility
That's just to name a few. Humility is my personal favorite.
Bet you never thought as much about feet as what I'm about to have you give some thought to!
Imagine a big wig lawyer standing in suit and tie with naked feet. Or a judge in a long black robe, gavel in hand, and naked feet. The chief of police, or even a local news anchor. You get my point. There demands a bit of humbleness when treading in the absence of shoes.
There is an innocence to being naked footed. Children frequent the art of outside running and play clad in nothing but beautiful nude skin. Adults often in summertime reminisce about the barefoot days of summer.
I myself used to hang my feet out the car window or put them up in the dash during the summer months. Okay, I admit it, I still do. My husband hates the toe prints on the inside of the windshield, but it's just so easy to slip off the flip flops and stretch out. There's a mindset that comes with naked feet. At least for me. It signals that I'm relaxed, happy and usually just enjoying life at a slower pace. Slower paces do not come very often in my home full of four boys, a husband running his own business and a handful of dogs.
I think back to the 70's. Okay it was before my time a little bit (darn it!) but the pictures and movies... nakedness everywhere, in every park you saw! (yes, I'm still talking feet.) Birkenstocks. It's that laid back mindset again. That relaxed lifestyle that we all so easily loose site of now days.
One of my favorite things in the world are the fresh, brand new, slightly wrinkly feet of a newborn. The skin is thin and soft, not yet calloused or exposed, still perfect and clean. The toes like little peas. The innocence and beauty of those simple pictures new parents often take of baby feet always seem to bring tears to my eyes.
No, I do not have a foot fetish. In fact, I'm not really fond of feet in general. The symbolism of nakkie feet is what tugs at my heart strings.
That is why I named this site Naked Feet.
That and anything with the word naked in it demands attention.
But, mostly it was the symbolism.
I hope each time you log on it brings back warm memories or perhaps creates some new ones. I hope it reminds you to take a breath and just for a moment, even if it's in your mind, slip off your shoes, and let your naked feet remind you what it feels like to slow down and enjoy the present.
Slipping off my crocs~
RF

On Faith.

2009-07-03T08:56:00.001-07:00

Posted at 02:59 PM on May 20, 2009
And who am I to question faith? I am a person responsible for having it. Or perhaps not. Over the course of the last year, my faith has been tested in ways unimaginable. I suppose that's such a common phrase-to have one's faith tested- that it doesn't hold the weight to you that it does to me. I will attempt to explain.

I questioned God. I questioned His very existence. I considered scrapping the whole idea of a Higher Power of any sorts. And with very good reason.

The day I walked out of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, my child snuggled securely in my arms I had a realization. One that had been lingering during our 21 day stay. One that was not going away. In fact it was about to be cemented in for my very own struggling pleasure. You see although there were still questions hanging over the head of my baby-about quality of his future life, there was a certainty that he would survive at a near normal existence on this planet. I was happy to be going home if nothing else. Joy was radiating from my being.

And as I walked by the waiting room my nurse escorting me out, carrying diaper bags and car seats, time began to shift into slow motion. It was one of those moments when my senses become heightened and I am aware, on a deeper level of what's going on around me. An entire family filled the waiting room, and the lined chairs outside the waiting room, all the way down the hall. No one made eye contact. Some were on cell phones texting. Some laying their head on the shoulder of the person next to them. Long, sad faces. A whole group emitting the same emotional energy of extreme sorrow.

A man looked up, his face swollen and red, tears streaming down. He locked eyes with me and I could see that he and I were at opposite ends of the universal life spectrum.

He was saying goodbye to his child today.

I was on the way home with mine.

The guilt that ensued was a very raw and yucky feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. Yet I was not willing to stop. I kept walking in spite of our locked eyes. He almost seemed to be pleading with me. I clutched my baby close to my chest and I left rapidly. Perhaps out of respect for that family, not wanting to rub in my blessing, adding to their pain. Perhaps out of fear, that somehow I would be asked to do something, as if I could.

On one level I drove my baby home, with gratitude, relief and a vast set of emotions related to our experience. That experience is on a whole other blog. On another level there was a battlefield beginning to get very nasty within my soul.

People told me God gave me a miracle. People told me to feel blessed, to claim His victory in my healthy child. People clapped their hands and told me to Praise God that He was so good. I wondered if that father in the waiting room would agree?

I was pissed. I had two separate thoughts that replayed over and over. Why? Why? and...Why? Why would He, if He could in fact perform these great miracles, choose me, choose my baby to grant a miracle to and not that other one? And if in fact He does not perform these miracles at His seemingly random will-the question begs-is He really worthy of our following?

How can He choose? How do you decide the fate of two seemingly equal families? Of an innocent child? That family wanted just as badly as mine had. They had prayed just as hard. They did everything the same we did. How can people so loosely throw around phrases like "God answers prayer?" I am looking at an example in my face thinking...no, He does not!

It made no sense to me. This God of ours was either not all powerful, or, He was cruel and unjust. And not a person could answer my questions. No one could explain this to me.

In the last year, or more accurately in the last few months I have had several realizations which slowly has built my faith back up. I'm no guru mind you. But I have a belief again. Allow me to explain.

First off-a close friend of our family was diagnosed with cancer. There was fear, and yet a quiet inner strength that emitted from his family during this time. I know there was times at home that I didn't see. that lacked the grace I speak of but their faith never seemed to waiver-it never has for that family.

What really caught me, was one day, at my moms, talking to this man's wife. She was struggling with the same questions I had struggled with. Why? Why one and not the other? I asked her how she answered that question. This pillar of enduring faith-strength. Her reply struck my heart. It was simple. It was heartfelt. And it was just as baffling. "Why not?"

Hmmm.

We don't get to know those answers. We don't get to know why we don't get to know those answers either. There is a very solid, strong line drawn in the sand. Which speaks another volume of answers to me. Absolute Control. It is not a game of Russian roulette. There is a specific plan, and specific outcomes. It is just not for me to know. I don't have to like the line drawn in the sand. I can turn my back and refuse it. That does not mean it disappears. Make no mistake-this line speaks as to exactly Who is in charge. I know I did not draw it. Therefore I sat down next to it, and tried to come to terms with where I was at.

As Job asked God, so did I, and the answer was hauntingly similar. In the form of a question "Where you there when I made the stars in the sky?" Oh crap -I thought to myself. I got to big for my britches. I sat down in the sand and just listened a while.

This last month-a short two weeks ago-I lost my dad. One of my dad's. But dad to me none the less. The nagging "why?" tugged at my heart again. I decided to address it first hand.

With a dictionary. Good ole Webster.

Faith: The confident belief or trust in the truth of or trustworthiness of a person, thing or idea.

Not to go Biblical-but it was preached recently in my church that I sometimes frequent (yeah, minor confession there) that "Every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess." That means you're either going to get to the end of this life and say "Yesssss! It was true! Hot Damn!!!" or you're going to get to the end of this life and say "Oh! $%^* Damn me! I shoulda-coulda-woulda"

Either way-the truth will be revealed-whatever that is.

I stand up at this line in the sand. I'm done with quiet listening. I have an understanding. I'm not wanting to just roll the dice on this one.

I've no doubt that something exists. That's all faith is. And over the last couple weeks I've had a new support for my faith. A question which was asked to me this time. "What if there isn't?"

What if this is it? What if we die, we are buried and it's over? The thought that 6 feet under is where it ends really doesn't set fully right with me. Perhaps sometimes faith is simply believing because the alternative sucks. Sometimes I believe simply because I just want to believe in something more. Don't we all?

I stand at this line ready to walk away from it. I choose to let Him have power of the line that He drew in the first place. Not that I could do anything about it anyway. It's clear to me the only one struggling with justice, power and equality is me. And I only struggled for lack of understanding. It occurs to me that understanding is not a requirement in the above definition. It's a matter of choice. Choice for whatever your reasons may be. Perhaps my reasons will help someone struggling with the same questions that so deeply effected me just this last year.

I look at my miracle. The soft, snuggly one that I walked out of the NICU with. He will be one tomorrow. He no longer has any doubt hanging over his head. And while I do not know the fate of that entire family that so deeply touched my heart last year as I left that hospital...I do know that He is sufficient, even in times of death. For I myself just walked through that experience as well. It was heavily steeped with small significant details that no percentage of coincidence could explain.

It is in the quiet whisper of wanting to believe, our eyes closed, and wishing like a child chanting to rid the boogy man away...we open our eyes and see that He meets us face to face.
RF

The First Post is the Deepest.

2009-07-03T08:53:00.000-07:00

Posted at 12:25 PM on May 20, 2009

Okay, in an archival sense it will be the deepest. I'll admit it's just after midnight. I'm very tired so this is short.

My intentions are to explain the crazy name for this site, and do some heartfelt posts in the days that follow. But for today I just wanted to make the first post, send a warm welcome to you all, and thank you for joining me in this new found adventure.

Now I will go back to pretending you all don't exist for mental peace of mind and to cure writers stage fright.

First. Sleep. Then coffee and more writing.

But, first. sleep.

Good Night~
RF