Good Friday

Today, there are many facebook statuses and tweets about the crucifixion.  Praise God, there are people who are purposefully thinking about this day, what happened on this day, and what it means.

Source.

However, I can't help but notice that so many of these updates are man-centered.

Things like:

He thought of me above all.

I am worth it.

I am someone worth dying for.

We are tempted to make everything about us. Yes, I praise God that I get to have a part in the story of redemption!  But, I also praise God that Jesus' death was not [primarily] about me.  I was not his motivation. Humans were not his motivation. There is nothing about us worthy of Christ climbing that hill.

He did not think of me above all; He thought of the Glory of the Father.

He did not think I was worth it; He knew God's glory was infinitely worth it.

I am not someone worth dying for; I am desperately wicked.

Did Christ die for us? Yes! The Bible says, "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" Romans 5:8. But, when Jesus prayed on the Mount of Olives he said, "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours be done." (Luke 22:42)  His focus  was the Father.

He died for the Glory of the Father. He died so that God could be glorified through the magnificent story of utterly depraved humans being saved by His grace.  

He did not die to give us positive self-esteem. We shouldn't look at the cross and think, "I am worth it." Instead, we should meditate on the disparity of our sinfulness that it would cost so much to redeem. We should humbly marvel that God would allow us to be a part of that redemption.

So, let us be careful with how we talk of the crucifix. It is not primarily about us. It is first about the glory of God. I praise God that he would allow me to be a part of His glory through the story of redemption. I don't deserve it; I am not someone worth Christ's death. 

Click to read Good Friday thoughts from 2012.

Five Months

This guy has been with us for 5 months. I can't believe it.

I think back to when I was 5 months pregnant. I was barely showing. Strangers were JUST starting to notice. Even then, they were rarely brave enought to ask. I didn't feel like I had been pregnant for long.

But, I feel like I have been a mama forever. Five months with our son has felt like a lifetime. You know what parents say, "I can't remember life before our little one?" It's true! It seems like I have been his mom so much longer than 5 months.

At the same time, these five months have been a whirlwind. Already, I am forgetting what he was like as a itty bitty newborn. Remembering him then is made more difficult by the fact that he is a big boy. Yes, I am the mom who often gets told things like, "He's only 5 months? He's a big boy. He's gunna be a line backer!" And, I totally dig having a "big" boy. He is wearing 9 and 12 month clothes!

He is not really interested in rolling over, but is starting to sit up. I think he's not rolling over because his personality is so content. He's kinda like, "Oh that toy is out of my reach? Oh well, I will just look at it and talk to it, no big deal. No need to expend extra energy to roll towards it."

Naps continue to be my nemesis  He still takes 30 minute naps. 30 minutes. Thats it. Because they are so short he has a really hard time making it until bedtime. He gets a bit grumpy in the afternoon. This makes me feel as if I am ALWAYS either trying to get him down for a nap, or get him back to sleep at the end of a short nap (which does not usually happen). This all started around 2-3 months. Once in a while, for no apparent reason he will take a longer nap. But, this is so random and rare that I can't figure out the trick. And, I have tried EVERYTHING. No Joke. Everything. Twice.

He may take pitiful naps, but he does so awesome at night. He sleeps for 12 hours straight. Seriously. He started sleeping 8-10 hours straight around two months, then lengthened it to 10-12 hours around 3 months and has pretty much kept doing 12 (sometimes 13) since 4 months. Oh, the bliss!

So, perhaps the catnapping is related to him sleeping so much at night or maybe it is  just a phase. Other moms who I have talked to who's babies slept 12+ hours at night report their little ones did the same thing and say it levels out around 9 months. So, looks like we might have 4 more months of this catnapping stuff. Which means I need to figure out how to deal, ASAP.

Jude is not yet eating solid foods regularly. He's still pretty much only eating breastmilk. Out of curiosity, we have given him a little avocado, sweet potato and a taste of banana. We have decided to follow the baby-led weaning (AKA baby-led solids) approach. We know so many parents who have done this and have kids that are super awesome (read: not picky!) eaters. We will begin Jude with sweet potatoes, avocados  and other fruits/veggies he can handle in the next month or so as he begins to show interest in food, looses his tongue thrust reflex, and can feed himself. We do not plan on buying baby food or making purees, but giving him foods that he can manage in their natural form.

Jude has not yet had any immunizations.  It's not that we are totally opposed to shots, but he had a virus at his 2 month appointment, so he did not start them then. Then other things happened, so we put them off. Basically, its a long, boring, drawn out ordeal, but he should begin to get (some of) them at 6 months. I dread that.

I love being the momma of a 5 month old. I love seeing him take in things and learn! I love the open mouthed kisses, belly laughs, happy dance (when he flails his arms and legs with excitement), reaching for and shaking objects that intrigue him, and that he enjoys independent play time.

Most days, I love, love, love being a momma though there is the ocasional meltdown day. I am so blessed to have a husband who is so patient, understanding, encouraging when I have those days. I am one blessed gal.

So, here we are. The parents of a cute 5 month old! I wouldn't trade it for anything.

The Sin of Discontentment

It is easy to feel discontent. After all, we live in a culture that thinks no one should feel unhappy with their lot, or if they are, they are entitled to change it (or have it changed for them - but I digress). More than that, it is a part of our (sinful) nature to think that we deserve contentment with our circumstances and to make our own contentment in things or events an idol. I am guilty.

This struggle comes in may forms:

I am discontent with this job; I quit.

I am discontent with this house. Hello, mortgage I can't actually afford.

I am discontent with my body. Know a good plastic surgeon?

I am discontent, but it will be better when _________________.

It seems that we think that if we are discontent something is wrong. Something needs to be fixed. After all, our circumstances should provide us contentment, right?

Now, I know many of you are wiser than I and already have spotted the error of this logic. Honestly, I thought I got it, too. But I didn't. I was looking for contentment in circumstances rather than in God.

Philippians 4:11-12-  Not that I speak from want; for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need.

This season of our life has brought with it temptation to be discontent about many things: 

Reduced income.

Living in the city. (I am a country girl.)

Adjusting to being a stay at home mom.

No health insurance.

Cultivating new friendships.

I began to interpret my lack of contentment as something wasn't right. Maybe we had made a wrong decision. Maybe something needed to change. We needed to "fix' this.

Of course, this thinking reveals sin, the sin of discontentment. I thank God for friends who are willing to call sin, sin. As Stephen was seeking counsel from a Christian brother and sharing some of our stuggles this individual pointed out that we are battling the sin of discontentment.

1 Timothy 6:6-7  But godliness actually is a means of great gain, when accompanied by contentment. For we have brought nothing into the world, so we cannot take anything out of it either.

Typically, we don't see discontentment as a big problem in the Christian life. But, it is a big deal.  Really. Discontentment is doubting the sovereignty of God. Doubting that God has a purpose for every season of our lives. It is forgetting that not one decision or event comes without the Lord allowing it.

Why hadn't I realized this before?  Just realizing that what I was facing was sin made a huge difference. The first step was repentance. Then, I began to look at things differently. Instead of trying to change something to feel content, I started to realize that this season brought with it great opportunity for sanctification.

And, by his grace, The Lord is teaching me much. 

I am learning to... 

trust God more,

be thankful,

invest more time into people rather that projects/home decor/shopping,

appreciate the season of plenty we had,

pray more, 

submit to my husband in difficult decisions,

and to parent more intentionally in the time I am blessed to spend with Jude.

Now, don't misinterpret this as, "I have mastered these things." No, at any moment I am tempted to be fleshly and discontent. But, still, there is such a huge opportunity for growth and sanctification, an opportunity that I did not see when I was only focusing on my discontentment and how I could "fix" it.

Are you dealing with discontentment?   Perhaps you, like me, did not realize the sinfulness of your discontentment  Perhaps you are consumed with "fixing" it by seeking out a new job, home, church, etc.  Dear friend, I encourage you to repent. I encourage you to see your struggle as an opportunity for sanctification. May the Lord use this to make us more like Christ.

On Being Mommy

Recently, my life has been consumed with this thing called motherhood...And I haven't posted much about that because, well, to be honest, most of the time I think I am doing it wrong.

Seriously.

Am I weird?

Just this Sunday, in church, the sweet mom in front of me turned around and said, "Hows it going?  How's he doing?"

I looked down at my precious little boy who was, at the moment, a bit fussy and said, "Well, he's tired. Church is during morning nap time."

She smiled sweetly and said, "Yeah, Sundays are hard."

"Thank you," I said. When she looked at me, confused, I continued, "I am relieved to know its not just me or something I am doing wrong."

It seems that I am always second guessing myself. Is he tired? Or hungry? Should I give him the pacifier to sleep? Should I stop swaddling him? Do I lock myself in my house until we have a good nap routine established, or do I continue my life and tote my tot along? Or where is the balance between the two?

Basically, the only thing I am sure about is that I need to quit worrying.  I need to trust that God's grace is sufficient to cover my mommy mishaps. I need to stop, enjoy and be grateful for my son.

I need to pray more.

Just a week or so ago I got in touch with one of my mommy mentors about how she would proceed to lengthen Judes naps. (He basically takes 5-6 30 minute naps during the day instead of 2-3 longer naps.) And her first advice?  Pray.

And, I must admit, I am much quicker to consult the latest book, blog, or forum on a parenting issue than to pray that the Lord would give me wisdom.  Ouch.

That same mom also reminded me that our most importnat concern should be that we raise our children to love God. We shouldn't  put more effort into any other area of parenting. Nothing should concern us more. Breast or bottle? To vaccinate or not? Cry it out or soothe? Scheduled or unscheduled?  All these issues, though important, pale in comparison to teaching my child the beauty of the Gospel.

Sometimes, I just need to be reminded of the proper perspective.

Tonight, bedtime was a complete chaotic failure. But, I am reminding myself of what really matters. I am reminding myself of the lessons I have learned so far in my short time as a mom:

Enjoy and be thankful for my son.

Trust the Lord.

Teach the Gospel.

Pray.

Church Membership

This season of transition has made us acutely aware of the importance of church membership in the believer's life. We all know people who believe (falsely) that they don't need to be a member of a local body. But, church membership is so critical.

Jesus Christ died for the church. He loved the church so much that he died for it (Ephesians 5:25). Yet, many who claim to be followers of Christ sacrifice nothing for the church. Many even deny that they need church membership.  Please don't mistake me for comparing church membership to just having your name on a roster. Instead, I am referring to the corporate study of the Scriptures, worship, accountability, discipline, and fellowship that should be a part of church membership. This is church membership and it is vital to the life of a believer.

Sunday, we ended the season of being believers disjointed from the body; we joined Orange Park Bible Church. We are excited to be a part of this body. We pray that we will be an integral part of the ministry there.

We know that being members of a Biblical, like-minded church was a necessity  We could not survive apart from the body.  The Bible tells us that we need to be apart of the local assembly. The Bible compares members of the church body to parts of the physical body (1 Cor.. 12:12). What happens to an arm, leg, or finger that is detached from the body? Surely, it can not serve its purpose and, ultimately it would die unless reattached.

This little church has already demonstrated the love and grace of God to us in VERY tangible ways (meals, job, living arrangements). We do not deserve the kindness that has been shown to us, but we praise God for it.

Before we joined OPBC, we had to complete a new members class. The day that we joined, the pastor had all of the families who were joining stand in the front of the church while he shared a little about them. When he got to us he began to tell the story of all God had been doing over the past couple years to bring us to this point - membership at this church. I teared up. I so appreciated his reminder that God has been sovereignly working over years to bring us here. For me, it is such a temptation to become discouraged by the stuggles of this week, this month, and this season; I quickly forget that God has been working much longer than that. What a sweet reminder to hear the events of the past couple years and be reminded how God has worked.

We eagerly anticipate how God will use us here. I pray that if you are reading this, and do not have a church home you will realize the importance and begin seeking a place of membership.

If you are searching for a church to call home, I encourage you to read 9 Marks of a Healthy Church by Mark Dever.

The Birth of Jude Allen - Part Two

Read part one.

I had mentally prepared myself that, if induced, it would be a long labor to a vaginal birth. I based this on my family's history of not progressing and the fact that I started with an unfavorable cervix. For some, an induction means having a baby the same day. Well, not for me.

Early the next morning, I felt the exhaustion set in. I had not really slept the night before the induction since I had contractions about every 15 minutes from my acupuncture that afternoon. So, I was going on about 48 hours with no sleep, except for very short naps. To say I had a meltdown would be a big understatement.  All I wanted was sleep. I began to think about getting an epidural.

My wish had originally been to have a natural birth but, when I agreed to labor augmentation, I knew the chances were that I would eventually want an epidural. For a brief moment, I felt like a failure. We weighed the pros and cons of this intervention. We asked questions. Talked to our doula. I got it.  The anesthesiologist administered it at 5 am on Thursday morning. With the epidural, I also had to be put on IV fluids, which I had declined up until this point.

While we were waiting on the anesthesiologist, I took advantage of my last opportunity to be on my feet.  I stood, facing Stephen, with my hands on his shoulders and head on his chest and we just rocked. I have no idea how long we did that - it seemed like forever. It was one of my favorite moments of labor. I wish I had a picture, but during the wee hours of the morning there was no one there to take it.

The epidural took the edge off the contractions and I slept of and on for a few hours. I was checked around 6 am and was still only a fingertip dialated, but 90% efeaced. While being checked, my water broke, which I was upset about. I knew that would put me on the clock as it increased my risk of infection. They also gave me another dose of miso, as my contractions had spaced out to about every 7 minutes. The medicine increased my contractions back to every 2-4 minutes.

I napped off and on until around 10 am.  Sometime between naps my doula called and we talked about the probability that "c-section" may be mentioned soon since my water was broke and I wasn't making much progress.

At 11 am, the doctor came in to check me and talk to me about our options.  I immediately began to tear up, fearing they would want to do a c-section. But, she knew my feelings about that so she started with, "I think it is too soon to talk about a c-section."  She said she wanted to check me and get a little more agressive by starting pitocin.  She also said she did not want me to be pregnant on the 19th, considering how long I had been off of blood thinners and that my water was broken. I did not like that I was being put on a time frame, but was thankful for her honesty.

So, she checked and I was 1 cm and basically fully effaced. Meaning I still had a long way to go, but now my cervix was favorable enough for pitocin.

The pitocin began and they slowly increased it all throughout the day trying to get me to 3 contractions within 10 minutes.

On oxygen when Judes heart-rate began to slow.

So far, Jude, (who I did not know was Jude at the time) had been doing great. His heart rate looked wonderful and he seemed to be happy. However, after starting the pitocin, we noticed he was not happy when I laid on my right. So, I stayed on my left and was put on oxygen. This caused the medicine to pool on my left side, which meant the epidural was not working on my right side.

The doctor retuned to check me between 4-5 pm. I was dilated to 4 cm!  This may not sound like a big deal to you but, in my family, the women have a history of not dialating. In fact, just a few weeks before I had Jude, I was at a family function where I was told to be prepared that I would not dilate, since this is probably a genetic thing. So when the doctor told me I was 4 cm I almost cried. I said, "I broke a family record!" I am sure she's never seen someone so happy to be 4 cm.

The plan was to check again at 9 pm, at which time I should be 7-8 if my progress continued.

In the meantime the pain on my right got worse. Much worse.  I was having a hard time working though contractions and was wishing I could get up and move though them.

We could not decide if this was from the medicine pooling on my left, or if it was just a hot spot (a hot spot is a place where the epidural just doesn't work at all). Upping the epidural (which was at the lowest dose I could have) was not an option for ether of these. So, we decided to try my right side once again.

I turned to lay on my right, and Jude's heart rate began to decelerate   So,  Patricia and her assistant, Gloria, began pressing pressure points on my legs and feet. As they did, his heart rate immediately picked back up. They continued to apply pressure and massage my legs to help improve my circulation (I had begun to swell) as I worked though contractions.

Me, Patricia, and Gloria

Patricia took such good care of me!

On my right side, the pain did not improve. In fact, the "hot spot" began to grow and soon I could feel my entire right side and some on my left. At this point we called for the anesthesiologist. Of couse, he was in an emergency c-section at the moment.

About 7:00 I began to feel like my catheter was slipping down with each contraction. When we began the pitocin, I had a catheter inserted past my cervix that recorded the strength of my contractions. I told those in the room that I felt like my catheter was slipping out. But, the nurse checked and said it was still in place.


I continued to feel like that catheter was moving down with each contraction. Just a few minutes before 8, I told my doula I was feeling funny. I think I said something like, "I know this sounds crazy, but I am kinda feeling the urge to push."

She said, "You should probably call your nurse."

I did. They summoned a doctor to check me. I was FULLY dilated.


About that time the anesthesiologist showed up. But, of course, there was no adjusting or upping the epidural at this point.

Stephen, Dayle, Patricia, and Gloria (my doula's assistant), gathered around me and Stephen lifted up a prayer of thanksgiving and continued protection to God. It was such a precious moment.

Stephen holding my hand while he prays
Also notice the popsicle in my other hand -
I deserve a reward for how many popsicles I ate!

The nurses and doctors left for a while and my doula had me doing some exercises to help the baby come down more. With each contraction, she had me play tug of war using a towel. During each break of tugging I ate on a popsicle  I think I ate 26 popsicles during all this.  I would eat on my popsicle during my breaks, then pass it to Stephen (or someone else) to hold while I did the tug-of-war thing.

Around 11 pm (I think) the nurse returned and I began doing more directed pushing. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, if this baby wants its own birthday it only has an hour (my sister's birthday is the 19th) and I also remembered what the doctor had told me that morning about being pregnant on the 19th. I thought it would be close.

I think the doctor was called in around 12:45am. I honestly don't remember for sure. But, I do remember that as soon as she came in I saw all 26 of those popsicles again. Someone told me that was a good and normal thing. Yuck.

So, this was it. I knew about the whole breathe your baby out and let your body do the pushing thing, but it did not matter. I wanted it done. I pushed. A lot. And HARD.

He arrived at 1:04 am. Stephen was to announce his sex, so as he was lifted up and over to my chest he said, "We have a baby Jude!" We had a son.

The pic is blurry, but notice the clock.
Jude had just been born and placed on my chest.

We have a son.

Stephen seeing his son for the first time.

Our first family pic

I love this picture.
Look at Patricia's face. Can you tell she loves what she does?

I was surprised he was a boy.  I honestly had begun to expect a girl. My mom and sister had me basically convinced. I had dreamed of our firstborn being a boy, but did not think it was so! Poor guy, I am pretty sure I told him all that while I held him on my chest - "I thought you were a girl, but I am so glad you aren't!"  There was much rejoicing in that room. Then Stephen got to announce the birth to those in the waiting room and there was much more rejoicing.

Watch Stephen announce the gender in the waiting room by clicking here.

Jude was born October 19th at 1:04 am. He weighted 7 pounds 7 ounces and was 19.68 inches long.

I ended up with almost as many medical interventions as I could have had without surgery. But, by the grace of God, I  have no guilt and regret. The staff at Shands were so accommodating and followed every other aspect of my birth plan without hesitation. Things like delayed cord clamping, no shots, no eye ointment, no bath, no bottle/pacifier, and they let me forgo IV fluids (until I go the epidural). They were even prepared to let me labor in water, even with the pitocin, if I had not gotten a epidural.

All in all, I am just so thankful to have a  beautiful baby boy. God's grace to us is undeserved, but so amazing.

The Birth of Jude Allen - Part One

This story really began over two years ago, when Stephen and I first decided to add children to our family.  If you are unfamiliar with our struggle with pregnancy loss you can read more here.

My last prego pic - the evening before I was induced
At Satchel's Pizza in Gainesville

My pregnancy with Jude was textbook (other than the fact that I took heparin injections twice daily to keep him alive). I had minimal amounts of nausea, tiredness, and other symptoms. I felt well overall.  I even continued running until somewhere around 28-30 weeks.

Due to my "high risk" condition, my doctor wanted to induce at 39 weeks. I am "high risk" due to a condition I have - Antiphospholipid Syndrome. I, however, was not on board with induction.  I had hoped for a natural childbirth. When we lived in Loisuana we were even planning for a waterbirth. Sadly, I could not have a waterbirth here in Florida as I would have to be in a  birth center and I am too high risk to be taken by one.

So, I knew there would have to be some compromises. After our long journey, I wanted more than anything to finally hold a living, breathing child. But, I also wanted to aviod a  c-section. I knew that every medical intervention increased the chances of surgery.

My doctor agreed to wait until 40 weeks for an induction assuming the weekly stress tests I was having showed everything to be well.  Jude scored a 10/10 on every stress test, so we waited.

I did all the natural labor inducing methods you can think of, well, except castor oil...I drew the line there. But I tried EVERYTHING else. I even went to the chiropractor and did three rounds of acupuncture.

I was scheduled for an induction on Wednesday, October 17th. I had a doctor appointment the day before. I went into that appointment thinking I would fight to move the induction back to the following Monday. We talked in detail of the plans for induction - what we would do if I failed to dilate, if the baby distressed, etc. Honestly, my doctor was willing to try everything to aviod a c-section (well, except for taking the risk of waiting any longer).

She did not want me to wait until Monday, but she told me that I did not have to show up for the induction. She also told me that they had reserved the room for me that would accomodate an inflatable tub so that I could labor in water.  Yes, they were going to let me labor in water even WITH and induction! In addition, they had arranged for several nurses who were natural birth minded to manage my labor. Stephen and I left the doctors office with a lot to think about. I had my last accupuncture session that afternooon, so I was still hoping to go into labor on my own maybe that night.

The accupuncture did give me contractions ALL NIGHT long. They averaged 10-15 minutes apart, and kept me pretty much awake all night.  After much thought, we decided to proceed with the induction.  My doctor and the hospital staff had went to alot of trouble to set up a birth as close to what I dreamed of as possible even with the induction - I was not promised they would go to that trouble a second time.

We showed up to Shands at UF at 6:00 am. I was 70% effaced but not dialated at all. We began with medicine to ripen my cervix before starting pitocin. They started me with a dose of misoprostal. When they hooked me up to the monitor they commented on the fact that I was still having small contractions (from the accupunture). The first dose of miso amped up my contractions and had them coming every 2-4 minutes lasting 30 seconds to a minute... and the fun began.


My doula, Patricia, visited that evening. She brought me a birthing dress, snacks, and other goodies. She posted positive messages all over the walls of my room and a sign on the door. My favorite message was the one that read "I accept this labor as my labor and believe it is the right labor for me and my baby." It would have been so easy to be envious of friends who had intervention-free births, water births and home births. It would have been easy to get frustrated with my slow progress. Thankfully, by the grace of God, I was reminded that my labor and delivery was not like anyone else's. In fact, it was sheer grace to even be in labor with a full-term baby.

The door to my room. Extra note added by Stephen.

I continued having contractions every 2-4 minutes for the rest of the day and through the night. As long as the contractions were coming that fequently there would be no more miso, for risk of hyperstimulation. To work through the contractions I used the birth ball and leaned over the bed. That evening one of the midwives came in and set up a tub.  I labored for several hours in the tub through the night.  I tried to nap between contractions. Needless to say, there was not much napping to be had. Also, despite the regular contractions I wasn't progressing much - I was only dilated a fingertip.

On the birth ball texting updates

My sweet husband decided to document the whole labor/delivery by writing a letter to our baby telling them about their birth. As he updated, he would read them to me.

To be continued.....