Seems Like...

... We Waited Forever!

I can't believe how long ago that August night seems, when Robert and Amber let us in on their "little secret", and we surprised them by telling them we had one of our own (and let me tell ya, we had to tell them twice, because they didn't believe us at first!)

But finally... here they are, together:

This is gonna be trouble for years to come...

Lisa

Miah's 2 Week Pictures...

... Took close to 400 shots today and came up with some pictures I like! Enjoy!

Lisa

This Is Harder Than I Thought...

After my first four children were born, I never experienced more than a day or so of "Baby Blues". For the most part, I just didn't "have time" for it, I guess. There was always so much going on, that I literally couldn't stop to worry about hormones and tears even if I'd been so inclined to. Not that I didn't have some weepy moments here and there. Seth wouldn't nurse, and I cried over that. We moved across the country when Grace was 3 weeks old, and I got sick and my asthma kicked in, and I cried over that. The hospital lost Caleb's ID bracelet... and baby pictures... and we had basically no help when he was born, so I was exhausted, and I cried over that (and even threatened to check myself back into the hospital if I didn't get some sleep). Shortly after Ian was born, a friend of mine asked me if I'd had a "blue day", and I remember looking at her like she just told me there was life on Mars, because I don't remember crying about anything when Ian was a baby. All in all... any sadness I experienced with the births of my first four children was very mild, short lived, and generally existed for a good reason. And then came Miah...

I probably should have recognized that there was potential for a very real issue, as my pregnancy came to an end. I was sick for the last two months of my pregnancy, dealing with high blood pressure... and migraine headaches... and a very high heart rate for the baby. I did not sleep well for the last few weeks, and often just went downstairs to the sofa bed around midnight or so and watched TV on my laptop until 5am, when I was usually exhausted enough to pass out for a few hours. I couldn't exercise, and I didn't have the energy to cook healthy meals, so we mostly lived on fast or frozen food (and pizza... and peanut butter eggs (a hazard of being pregnant near Easter)... and cherry coke (which is ridiculous, since I basically gave up pop early in high school, some 15 years ago)). It wasn't a textbook pregnancy, to say the least.

If you've read the account of Miah's birth, you know that it wasn't the easiest delivery ever, either. But I felt alright while we were in the hospital (minus the fact that I got little to no rest there, because there was constantly a nurse coming to check on something, or a medical student coming to learn something, or a visitor (and let me make it clear that we loved having friends come by, and I wouldn't change that at all... it's just that there was never a moment to just sleep)). By the time we got home, I was completely wiped out...

I did sleep that first night home. I don't think my body could continue to function, so it just didn't. Unfortunately, starting with the second night home I returned to my sleepless nights, and they were even worse than before Miah's birth. I just couldn't sleep at all. Since Phil's mom was staying with us to help take care of the kids for a few days (thank goodness), I couldn't go sleep on the sofa bed. I ended up kicking Grace out of her bed and camping out there with Miah for 3 nights. Grace didn't mind so much, as Seth gave her his bed and slept on his floor, which I found very self sacrificing of my oldest son.

I started counting the number of hours of sleep I was getting in every 24 hour period, and including naps, it was coming to 4-6 hours... not enough... and Miah was even sleeping well! On top of this, I was having what amounted to panic attacks over basically nothing. These would start mid-afternoon (around 4:00 or so) and wouldn't let up until morning. If you know me well, you know that I have a tendency to engage in some OCD habits. For the most part, I laugh with my closest friends about these things, and they tend to be mild in reality, but it got pretty bad those first few days home. I could not relax at all, and my mind was constantly running.

And then things got worse...

By the time Phil's mom went home, I had progressed to being very weepy about most everything. For a couple of days, I found myself breaking down in front of my kids at random times. I started feeling like it was necessary to somehow document or record everything about Miah, because she is my last baby and I am never going to get these moments back or have another chance at them. And then in addition to wanting to remember and enjoy every moment, I was getting stressed out about trying to remember and enjoy every moment, making the moments neither memorable nor enjoyable!

At this point I thought, "Oh my gosh, I must have postpartum depression." This brought on a whole new wave of upset and panic, because I didn't want to have postpartum depression, and I certainly didn't want to deal with postpartum depression. And so now I was crying, in essence, about crying... and a whole wave of other things...

There have been a lot of things that have been hitting me really hard. In reality, they are probably not important things, but they are still in the back of my mind, causing me frustration. For example... Miah does not have a nursery. In almost ten years of having babies, I have never managed to paint and decorate a nursery to bring one home to. So, I want to paint a room for Miah and make everything match and have my little dream nursery for my last baby... except I don't have a room...

Another example of frustrating circumstances is that upon arriving home, Ian was sick with some sort of upper respiratory thing. I promptly caught it and had to go on medication for asthma, because I just couldn't breathe. Although I'm off the meds now, this has definitely affected my milk supply, and I am constantly worried that Miah is not getting enough to eat (which is made more troublesome by the fact that she is not pooping... but Ian did that, too). So... for the first time in almost a decade, I have made bottles, and I keep thinking that Miah is not going to want to nurse or be able to nurse for very long, and it's going to be a nightmare like it was when I was trying to nurse Seth. In reality, this is unfounded, because Miah loves to nurse, and she pretty much looks at me like I'm crazy when I stick a bottle in her mouth to supplement, but I wish my milk supply would just hurry up and increase so I can scrap the stupid bottles altogether (and I wish she would poop, too)!

I am having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that Miah already doesn't smell like a newborn anymore... and that she's never going to be all slimy and cheesy again... and that those precious little sounds she makes are only going to last for so long, and our video camera is pretty much worthless. I am frustrated that we didn't get pictures of Phil with my huge, pregnant belly and that I forgot to tape her heartbeat even though I was hooked up to those monitors for hours at a time (I think the ultrasound video will have some sound to it, but I am almost afraid to watch it, because if it doesn't I am going to be disappointed). And here come the tears again, although more manageable than they were in recent days...

I think I'm getting better... But it is not lost on me that everything is going to be different (maybe more intense) with this child...

Please don't misunderstand... I am actually elated about Miah! This sadness has nothing to do with having her. In fact, it is just the opposite. I think this sadness is so intense, because I have already experienced how quickly time flies with four other precious little people. I just wish I could slow it down and really capture every moment. I have been so very blessed, and I don't want to miss a single opportunity to make memories that last.

This is harder than I thought it would be...

Lisa

Happy Easter 2010...

... From our family to yours:

Every Easter it is amazing to stop and think about how blessed we are that Christ loved us enough to die for us and that His power is great enough to conquer even death! Words are not adequate...

This Easter we also have a special "bonus"... The best Easter basket ever:


Lisa

The Sad Demise...

... Of Bobby The 28 Cent Goldfish... (By the way, I have been referring to Bobby as a 17 cent goldfish for some time now, but I realized, today, that I have been lying. The 28 cents is accurate).

I guess I have a bit of a strange outlook on pets. Seeing as I am allergic to pretty much everything with fur, and most other options (like reptiles) don't really interest me, we are pretty much limited to fish (at least until Miah is old enough for us to qualify for greyhound adoption, since they are hypoallergenic).

Well... back in 2006, Seth decided that he wanted a pet, and he began to save for an aquarium! On January 10, 2007, he finally had enough saved to purchase a tank, some rocks, a plant, a multi-colored fish castle type thing (that never fit in the tank), and 3 goldfish: Bobby, Larry, and Gordon.

I wish I could tell, for sure, which one is Bobby. I think he's the one near the top.

Well... within a month we had said our good-byes to Gordon... and then Larry... and sent them on their way with flushing ceremonies. But Bobby (who seemed very sickly from the beginning, and whom we never expected to outlive the others) held on until April 3, 2010. For anybody who's counting, that's 3 years, 2 months, and 24 days...

Bobby had a very full life for a goldfish.

I found him looking rather sickly on April 2, and to be honest, I thought he was dead already. I was on my way to bed and figured I'd leave him in the tank until morning, because the kids were already asleep. Except, when I went to deal with him in the morning, the poor thing was still breathing (although barely). Now, being the humane (and somewhat delusional) person I am, I decided that I should at least try to save the fish, if at all possible. I moved him to a bowl and made a valiant effort at feeding him little pieces of fish food, but I couldn't get him to actually inhale it. He did make an attempt at one last swim. Eventually, I returned him to his tank, where he continued to breathe until night time, and I felt terrible about it the whole time (and piled things in front of the tank, so the kids wouldn't see him that way), but I couldn't bring myself to just take him out of the water before he was dead.

So, it was actually the next afternoon when we told Seth that Bobby had died, and although he was slightly sad, he was also happy that Bobby had lived such a long life. We decided to bury him in the back yard, rather than flushing him, which I am pretty sure Phil found just a tiny bit humorous. However, Phil did go dig the hole and led a mini eulogy. Among our favorite memories of Bobby were: getting him at the store (Grace, Caleb, and Ian), thinking he was doing exercises when he swam around his plant (Seth), the way he would come to the side of the tank and seemingly ask for food when he was hungry (me... and yes, I still believe that fish can talk), and the various car trips we took with Bobby's tank between my feet with me trying not to get splashed (Phil).

I've always had a soft spot for goldfish, I guess. I thought I was doing pretty good when I brought "Lucky Montana" the free goldfish home from Meijer's kid's week and managed to keep him alive for 2 years, when I was a kid. This was especially notable since I promised my dad I would release Lucky in a pond that night if he let me take him... hehehe... guess dad had a soft spot for goldfish, too...

Already, Grace has asked about getting more fish...

Guess we'll see...

Lisa

Introducing...

Every birth story is different…

As a mommy of five, believe me, I know…

The weeks leading up to the birth of our Baby Princess were quite challenging, to say the least, so when my doctor said we could induce labor on March 29th, I was more than ready! Actually, I have never gone into labor on my own, so in combination with the various health reasons we had for an induction, I fully expected that this would be the case. A little before 6am on Monday, we headed down the road to the hospital to meet baby #5!

Upon entering the birthing suite, the nurses asked me, “Do you want to have a baby today?” to which, of course, I answered, “I sure do!” And thus began our adventure…

We got all the monitors going; I informed the nurse that I was going to be mobile if I wanted to, regardless of what her policy was (that’s learning from experience); for the first time in my life, I signed a release for an epidural (just in case), although I really didn’t intend to use it; the nurse managed to blow two veins in my left hand in attempts to start an IV (I had had an experience with this same nurse a few weeks back in which she blew one vein before successfully starting an IV, but when she blew two this time I was a little less than patient. I have huge veins that are really easy to hit, for crying out loud!) before calling another nurse to do it; and finally, at 7:20, they got the pitocin pumping!

In my past experience, that means contractions start hard and fast! Ian was born 4 hours and 45 minutes after the pitocin got going, so I was kind of hoping for some quick action! However, 40 minutes later when June came in to check and see how things were going, I was still dilated to 1, 50% effaced, no contractions. She broke my water. Now, 3 out of 4 of my other children were born within an hour of my water breaking (whether it broke on its own or with a little help). June tried to get an internal monitor going at this point, but the baby was way too high still, so we continued to fight with the external monitor. 9:00 came and went without contractions or progress of any kind.

By 10:00, however, I was starting to have some very intense contractions, and when June checked me again I was at 3. Uh… 3? I wasn’t too happy about that… did I mention these were intense contractions… but at least it was progress. These very intense contractions continued, and I started to think to myself, “This feels like my labor with Caleb!” At some point, I also remember saying this. And my mind started turning…

*** “Hmmm… maybe taking an epidural wouldn’t be the ultimate failure in childbirth… I mean… I have done this naturally four times… Shouldn’t any mother of five know what it’s like to deliver with the help of drugs at least once? Maybe I’m just a wimp in my old age… I really shouldn’t do this, right? Do I really want somebody sticking a needle in my back? Could it possibly hurt worse than this? I’m starting to sound like I did when I delivered Caleb. This could get embarrassing. If I had it to do all over again, would I take drugs with Caleb? Yes. Yes, I would.***

And then I asked Phil, should I take the epidural? And he kind of looked at me like I just asked if I should jump from the precipice of the Grand Canyon, which caused me to wonder if he would be terribly disappointed if I took the epidural. However, he quickly followed this funny look with, “I can’t tell you what to do. You have to do what’s best for you” (or something like that), and I made a quick decision. I would labor until noon, and if I hadn’t dilated past 5 I would take the drugs…

At 11:45, the pain was nearly unbearable, and I was sure I must be getting close to delivery, so I called the nurse to come check. My cervix was still so high that she couldn’t even tell what I was dilated to, but June came back and let me know that I was still at 3, 50% effaced (seriously?). And I said, “I WANT THE EPIDURAL (again, words I never really thought I would utter)!”

Now, anyone who has ever experienced childbirth and come to a point at which she determined that she needed an epidural can probably testify to the fact that this means, “I WANT IT NOW!” That’s not exactly how it works, though. Apparently, it is really important to take a whole bag of IV fluids first, and if the anesthesiologist happens to be in surgery somewhere else in the hospital, well, you just have to wait. An hour later, it was time for the epidural…

Now I have to be honest… I am not a real fan of needles, and the thought of an epidural has actually been far more anxiety provoking than the thought of natural childbirth, in the past. For just a brief moment, I thought, maybe I don’t really want to do this. Then, another monster contraction hit, and I was sold!

Truthfully, the epidural didn’t hurt. At least, it didn’t hurt worth talking about in comparison to the pain I was in. It did feel a little weird when he put the epidural catheter in, because I have watched way too many labor and delivery videos, and I was able to visualize that the weird feeling in my back was a piece of plastic slipping into my spine (which just about made me want to throw up), but there wasn’t pain involved.

My biggest concern at this point was that I do not like losing control, and I assumed that I would be unable to move my lower body once the epidural was in place. Not so. Although I was certainly numb and had that sensation like when your legs fall asleep, I was still perfectly capable of moving my legs, wiggling my toes, etc, and that was very reassuring. It was so bizarre, though, to stop feeling the contractions, and for a brief moment I was slightly panicked that they had stopped! The nurse (and the monitor) were able to assure me that they were still coming just as strong, but the epidural was doing it’s job. It was really a rather amazing feeling (or lack thereof), and I felt very much validated in my decision when Phil said, “This is going to make the experience so much better for you,” which it did.

June checked me again, and I was at 4-5, 70% effaced, and it was determined that I was not able to progress before the epidural, because my body was not relaxing between contractions… good choice… It was mentioned at this point, however, that there was a very real possibility that the baby wasn’t moving down because the cord was around her neck. This doesn’t rank up there as one of the top 10 things you want to hear while in labor. I asked June what we would do about that, and she said that sometimes it was possible to move the cord. She didn’t give me any other options, but my mind started racing anyway…

At 1:45, I started to feel a lot of pressure in my upper thighs. I called the nurse, because I figured I wasn’t feeling anything, at all, before, so maybe that pressure meant something. She said she would check me again, and her eyes got pretty big! I was completely dilated and effaced and ready to push! She called June in, and the process of really bringing a baby into the world got started!

It was very strange to not know when, exactly, to push. June and the nurse had to tell me when to push, since I couldn’t feel the contractions. Phil told me later that it was also a little strange that I made no noise. Without feeling the pain, there was really no need. He said it was like watching a silent movie…

It became apparent pretty quickly that the cord was, indeed, wrapped around Baby Princess’ neck, and that I was having a terrible time pushing through these contractions that I couldn’t feel. My other babies came flying out with just a few pushes, but now I felt very frustrated and even said, “I can’t push her out!” Thankfully, June is very competent and patient and kept talking me through each push.

Probably the most terrifying moment of my life, to this point, came when June cut the cord before the baby was delivered. It was the only way to get her out. She put my baby girl up on my tummy, and she was a terrible gray like color and not crying, and I kept saying, “Is she OK? Why isn’t she crying?” And June kept saying, “She’s going to be OK”:


She cut the cord in a second place, and then they moved Baby Princess over to the warmer and called for respiratory staff and gave her oxygen. Needless to say, we didn’t get as many pictures as we usually do, right away, because there were four staff people around her for the first 15 minutes of her life:



I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound than Baby Princess’ little cries, although they sure weren’t as loud and boisterous as our other kids’ first screams! From across the room, one of the nurses “warned” me that her face was really bruised, and I thought (and said), “No big deal… Seth and Caleb’s faces were bruised at birth, too. It was a huge relief when they handed her back to me, although I was somewhat shocked at the extent of bruising! My poor little princess was black and blue and her left eye was completely bloodshot! Still, she snuggled in, latched right on, and nursed for 45 minutes, and I found her very, very beautiful, covered with lanugo and all! (One of the nurses said she had been working in labor and delivery for 20 years and had never seen a “cheesier” full term baby)…


After an hour or so, things settled down and Phil went to get the kids and Grandma to meet the new baby! When the kids came in, we revealed her name for the first time: Miah Irene! Miah means princess, and Irene means peace. I would say that to this point she has lived up to her name in every way. Irene was also my Nana’s name and Phil’s Great-Grandma’s middle name, so there is some very special family connection there, in honor of them.

It was fun to see our whole gang together for the first time! Ian was slightly disappointed and informed me that he “wanted the baby to be a girl!” I’m not sure why he thought she wasn’t a girl, but I think we have him convinced now that she is. Caleb has been a little disappointed all along, because he wanted another brother, but after we got Miah home yesterday and everyone was in bed, Caleb asked if he could hold her. I haven’t seen him pass by her since then without reminding her of how cute she is. Seth and Grace were just happy to see her and hold her, and they liked her name, even though they informed me that they “never would have thought of it!”





We spent the next two nights in the hospital getting close to no sleep at all, but I guess that’s the way it goes! We had lots of wonderful visitors, and we were so happy when it was time to go home and begin life as it will be with our completed family.

I have to be honest and say that it was a little bit sad to leave the hospital, because this is the last time. I have a feeling that everything Miah does will be just a touch bittersweet, but she is definitely our baby, and we could not be happier with her and the way she finishes our family if we tried. Welcome to our world, Miah Irene! We love you!

Lisa

What A Day...

So the last two nights I have gotten very little sleep. It has been a mix of not feeling that great… and being extremely thirsty… and having to use the bathroom like every hour on the hour… and being hot… and being completely unable to get comfortable… even with 6 or 7 pillows… The last few weeks of pregnancy are just lousy for sleeping…

This morning I “woke up” around 10:30… on the sofa bed… after sleeping for an hour here or there throughout the early morning…
I picked up my laptop and logged on to facebook, because it’s about all I felt like I had the energy to do… but I could only see/read about every other word. I found that kind of strange, so I told Caleb to turn the living room light on… which he did… but it didn’t help at all…

At this point it occurred to me that maybe I was having some sort of visual disturbance, so I went into the kitchen to grab some Tylenol (just in case another migraine was coming on). I glanced up at the clock to see what time it was, and half of the numbers were missing… uh… yep… definite visual disturbance… I downed two extra strength Tylenol…

Since I also felt dizzy and like I might pass out… I decided to call Phil and put him on “stand by” to come home in case I needed him. He told me he was coming home immediately… which he did…

I warmed up some leftovers for myself and then got in the bath tub… much to the dismay of my husband who could not seem to understand how important it was to me to be clean before going to the hospital. When I got out I called the doctor’s office, and the receptionist told me to come in right away and not to drive myself. I called Monica to come watch the kids, and Phil took me to the office…

We spent the next hour and a half doing a bp check and NST, and then June came in and did my regular check up and ordered an ultrasound, because Baby Princess’ heart rate was in the 170s, and my bp was borderline high. The ultrasound looked good. Baby Princess is weighing in at about 6 lb. 15 oz. already and making lots of good breathing movements. But her heart rate was still high, so I had to go do an outpatient observation on the maternity floor.

After I got settled, I had Phil go home to the kids, because there wasn’t really anything he could do but sit there. I started to wonder if that was a good idea about 10 minutes after he left when the nurse slapped some oxygen on my face and told me they were going to start an IV. I wasn’t expecting that, and she said the baby’s heart rate was really fast (although she didn’t tell me just how fast… I learned hours later that it was over 200). I knew she was pretty seriously concerned about where this might be heading, though, because she wouldn’t even let me have water or ice chips.

It took two tries to get the IV in, and when she finally did get it, there was an ensuing blood bath… silly veins and blood thinners! Seriously… I didn’t look, but I could feel it running all over my hand. Yuck!

It’s funny, because I felt pretty relaxed during the whole thing. In fact, there were a few moments there in which I thought we were going to have a baby today, and I was OK with that… however it needed to happen. I think this might have provoked panic at other times in my life, but I trust my doctor completely, and God is good, so I am really ready to meet this Baby Princess at any time. In fact, I think I would be less nervous about delivering her at this point than continuing to carry her, because I have felt so sick for much of this pregnancy, and I think it’s going to be a huge sigh of relief to just have her safely in my arms.

Well… at some point, the oxygen and the IV fluids must have kicked in enough to get both my bp and Baby Princess’ heart rate back where they ought to be, and all of my labs came back good, so I was released to go home…

And here I am… glad for a little more time for Baby Princess to grow… but getting very eager to be done with this and to have her here with me!

Lisa

You're So Vain...

You probably think this post is about you…

And maybe it is…

And maybe it’s not…

I think I am still kind of egocentric. All of the psychology classes I’ve taken make it pretty clear that I should have outgrown this… oh… about a dozen years ago… but I haven’t… not completely…

The vast majority of the time, I think this is just a result of my overactive imagination that must somehow desire to be a people pleaser, deep down inside, even though I have never, ever been a people pleaser… in my whole life… ever.

I am, however, much better than I used to be at actually recognizing that other people exist and then going out of my way to help them in whatever way possible. It doesn’t come naturally to me, but I have learned to do it, because people matter. And I don’t want to sit here patting my own back all day long, but anybody who really knows me also knows that I will run myself into the ground for the sake of others, and that I would give someone the shirt off my back if they needed it. Again… no credit to me… I haven’t always been this way… And, again… I have to think about it. It takes effort on my part… I am no angel…

But I do like helping people.

I’m going to be frank and admit that sometimes I get over-committed and it makes for a negative outcome for all of my work. I get whiny and start to complain. I am the first to admit that I do not “do tired” well… and I do not “do sick” well… and I am a picky eater! These can be pretty serious limitations. I do work hard, though… and I give 150%... and I am often the first one to arrive and the last one to leave (except for maybe my husband who works harder than anyone I know).

A little over two months ago, I decided to take a break. Actually, one of these days I am going to come back and dissect the phrase “take a break”, because it has grown a life of it’s own, and I really hate the phrase, but I did, indeed, decide to cut back on some (a lot) of my volunteer activities.

It was necessary, because I am currently very hugely pregnant and not feeling that amazingly great… (Please see above… does not do sick and tired well…)

The “people pleaser wannabe” in me wants to make a list, now, of all of the activities I have continued to participate in (sometimes against my better judgment or that of my doctor… who is my friend… so I can’t get away with as much as I might like… she will catch me)!

But it just occurred to me that I don’t owe anybody a list…

What I will say is this…

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA!”

There… I have said it… In fact I have yelled it in all caps… almost feels like the Lisa of old who didn’t mind if she stepped on a few toes (and seriously… If I stepped on your toes right now… It would hurt)…

I have learned… over many years of ministry… how to be humble (yep… I just said I’m humble… took that right from Moses…). And I have learned what it means to really care about people and the kinds of interactions and relationships that you must have with people in order to become a credible influence in their lives. I have learned to push… and to push… and to push until that amazing moment when you see someone finally grasp what it means to really follow Christ with their whole life. And I have learned to back off when it isn’t the right time. The hardest lesson I have learned is that I can’t force anything… on anyone… and that it’s not my job to save the world.

I have learned… to learn… from people who are older… and wiser… and more experienced than I am. And then I learned that lesson… again… when I thought I had it figured out… again. I have learned to take something positive from everyone I meet.

I have learned… to teach… people who are younger… and less knowledgeable… and inexperienced. And I know, with certainty, that if any of them are reading this, they may be offended… because I used to be there… I have learned to give something positive to everyone who will take it.

Everyone basically has a choice to make in life. It doesn’t have anything to do with whether you are a pessimist… or an optimist… an introvert… or an extrovert… It doesn’t even have anything to do with your personality or the way you were raised. Everyone has a choice whether to be part of the problem or part of the solution.

The way I see it, most people have no difficulty finding fault with the world. This is just human nature. But it’s what we do with those faults that really matters. And look… I know I’m not the answer… and neither are you…

But I’m all about transformation… And I’m all about making everybody welcome… and that’s a harder promise to fulfill all the time… But that’s primarily because people get selfish…

Ah… age old issue…

Lisa

Who's Business Is It, Anyway...

So I was thinking...

I like a good human interest story now and then. It is probably a good thing that I do not get TLC (or any TV stations, for that matter... except I really wish I had NBC right about now, because I love the Olympics and am currently stuck on my sofa bed with no hope of seeing them, but that's another story), because I would probably sit and watch TV all day long like a soap addict...

But the other night, I gave in and ordered the 19 Kids and Counting: Special Duggar Delivery episode through Amazon's TV on demand, because I just really wanted to see it...

19 kids... Wow... It's hard to even find the words for what I think about that. But does it really matter what I think about it?

I have found myself more and more frustrated, lately, about the fact that so many people seem to feel that it is their right to judge others based on their family size. The Duggars are the ultimate example, of course, because they have the biggest, well known family out there at the moment. And I do realize that they have set themselves up, to a certain extent, for criticism, because they are involved in reality TV, but when you watch them, you can't help but be impressed.

I guess this all came on the heels of some interesting comments... or lack thereof... that have been made to me (and a friend of mine) in recent months as our bellies have grown in epic proportions! And I began to think about how it's really nobody's business how many children we choose to have... except ours... and God's...

I got to thinking about how everyone was so thrilled when they found out I was pregnant with Seth... my firstborn. After all, Phil and I had been married for a whopping 2 1/2 years before we conceived him, so heaven knows most of our family and friends had given up hope that we'd ever have children (looking back on this, it seems so incredibly silly)... And let me tell ya that Seth's birth was such a major event that we even had to post a security guard at my hospital door while I was in labor so that people would leave me alone and let me deliver my baby in peace (and stop harassing my husband)...

When Seth was 4 months old, Grace was conceived. We announced her pending arrival and received comments like, "You're having another one?" You would really have to hear the tone of voice to understand how derogatory it was. But when people found out it was a girl, the tone changed a little bit, and it was more like, "Well, thank goodness! You'll have one of each and then you'll be done!" Uh... excuse me...

Most people probably don't know how difficult it was to conceive Caleb or how difficult it was to just "do life" at that time, but our announcement about our third child mostly brought eye rolls. We lived far away from family when he arrived, and the same people who were beating down the door during Seth's delivery (3 1/2 years earlier) waited months (some almost a full year) before they ever laid eyes on Caleb.

And then, when we told people about Ian it was kind of like, "Aren't you done yet? You need to do something about this!"

Now let me make it VERY clear that we had said all along that we wanted to have five children, so I always had a difficult time understanding why people were so opinionated and disgusted by it when we told them another one was on the way... Not that we owed anyone an explanation, but it really shouldn't have even come as a shock!

And then... several months ago now... we announced that Baby Princess #5 would be making her debut this Spring! At this point I have to say that we had an outpouring of congratulations, mostly from old friends and the friend we are closest to here. So when I talk about reactions, I'm not talking about these people... But in large part, we were met with absolute silence. We literally have relatives who have refused to even acknowledge that we are having another child! And I just keep thinking about how shallow this is (well... OK... I don't really think about it all that much, because it's not worth my time, but when I do think about it, it's irritating)...

I look back on all the comments about each of my children... and I think about all the recommendations for when to have children... and how to space them "properly"... and how many is just right... and how many is too many... And I think...

Seth is amazing! I love him with my whole heart, and I am so glad that God sent him at just the time in life that he did. I wouldn't trade him for the world. He has passions that are unique and amazing! He is good at so many things! I could never beat video games without his help! I can't imagine life without Legos all over the house and someone to roll my eyes at when all the math homework doesn't get done! Seth is so special! But our family would not have been complete with just him... God had a different plan...

And I ask...

What, exactly, would I do without Grace? Gosh, am I really supposed to be sorry that we didn't wait a couple more years before bringing another life into the world? She is my right hand, helping me at every turn when I need her. She is excellent at everything she does! It would break my heart if I didn't know that I would hear her belting out worship songs (sometimes a little off key) at some point tomorrow afternoon. And she keeps letting me believe in Tinkerbell even though I think she's finally figured out that she flies from a rope at Disney!

And then we should have just stopped, right?

And what? Missed out on the spinning ball of kinetic energy that kisses me up and down both arms before I walk out the door to the tune of, "Oh, Mommy, my precious Mommy, I'll miss you so much!" (and this when I am planning to be gone for less than 5 minutes to drop someone off or pick something up)? I don't think so. I might not even be here, today, if it wasn't for Caleb. I know I won't be the center of his universe forever, but there is just nothing like it in all the world, for now...

And Ian... How many 3 year olds are there who think to tell you that they love you... and they like you, too? Ian has always been easy to please and even easier to snuggle. Sure, he greets me with a sucker that he has climbed the kitchen cabinets to find when he wakes up every morning, but for a kid who asks for so little, it hardly matters! It wouldn't seem right to go through a day without reading his favorite stories... singing his favorite songs... and having a tickling match or two... or three...

In just a few weeks, we're going to be looking into another beautiful little face, and I won't be able to imagine life without her, either (actually, I already can't). And again, I stop and ask the family experts, which one should we have left out?

Now I believe in being reasonable, and even as write this I have mixed emotions, because I know this is almost without a doubt my last pregnancy. I really don't think my body can do it again, and I love the family I already have enough to want to be around as they're growing up. If I get to age 40 and find that I just can't live without another baby... well... at that point adoption would be my first thought... but I really don't think it's going to go down that way, because I (and we) have had this dream of five children for a whole lot of years now, and it's being fulfilled. You may find this strange, but I always wanted to have a boy... and then a girl... and then two boys... and then a girl... And what do ya know... the more I look back on it the more I realize that maybe it wasn't just me wishing for this... maybe it was the plan all along, and I just knew...

I'm pretty sure that when most people stop and look back on their families, they think similar things. For the Duggars... well I have to imagine that they can't even comprehend what life would be like without each of their 19 children... individually... not just as a number... And for families with only children (I was one by the way), I have to think that they look at their child in wonder and feel pleased with their family just the way it is... And it works that way for everyone and every number of children in between, because God has plans for every life that comes into this world.

I love my family... Wouldn't change it if I could... Wouldn't even think about it...

Lisa

The Grass Is Never Greener…

... And hindsight is always 20/20, except through rose colored glasses…

Many of you know that I have been working to put together a DVD of our Florida vacation from 2008. I finally finished it last weekend, and in the process I also came across the video footage from our “amusing” summer in 2007, which had never been burned to DVD. I decided it was a good time to take care of that, too…

And a funny thing happened (as it so often does)…

I have to honestly admit that I have not watched the 2007 DVD all the way through. I just happened to click on random video files here and there to make sure I had it all set up for burning… But as I did, a strange feeling came over me, and as I smiled at frame after frame I actually thought to myself, “I think that was the best summer of my life!”

Ahem…

Let’s take a little trip back to 2007, shall we?

I am rather certain that Phil thought I had gone stark raving mad when I looked at him and announced that I had just purchased season passes for Cedar Point and it’s affiliated amusement parks… and water parks (no small purchase for our family)! We currently had a five month old baby and were living in a paper mache’, government subsidized house on little to no income, depending on what was available at the time.

Further, we were basically disconnected from almost every friend we’d ever had, and we were completely without a group of Christ followers with which to spend time, worship corporately, etc. (You can read this, “We didn’t have a church” if you want to, but I have some strong feelings about the word church and how it’s used, so I’m not going to write it that way)…

By anyone’s outside assessment of our life, we were pathetic, and we had absolutely no business spending money (or plastic… or whatever) or having any kind of fun at all. And most of the time, we thought that, too…

But at some point I just snapped… clicked the “purchase now” button… and we were on our way to a summertime adventure that took us to the land of amusement many, many times… mostly on Sunday mornings…

Irresponsible? Yeah, maybe (and I’m not in any way encouraging anyone to spend money they don’t have, because heaven knows it isn’t a good plan to go into debt). But we were living in a very unique life experience, and I don’t regret what I did…. at all…

In reality, it was probably one of the worst times in our lives! And for the most part, I wouldn’t go back and do it all over again, because I know there was a great amount of stress and frustration involved.

But I learned a lot about life and living over the course of that summer, and even though I wouldn’t necessarily want to repeat it; I wouldn’t trade it for the world, either.

Many of you also know that I have written a book. It is not published… probably never will be… and I am seriously considering just releasing it one chapter at a time on this blog in the near future. The book is the prequel to the adventures of the summer of ’07. At some point, I fully intend to write about the full scope of what happened next.

But for now… let it suffice to say that sometimes it’s worth it to live on eggs, cheese, milk, and peanut butter in a house that you can vacuum completely from one outlet plug, without a clue as to where the next month’s rent is coming from… if… it also means that you can watch Hogan’s Heroes every night, make seasoned roller coaster riders out of your kids, create memories that last forever and bring a smile to your face, and are (most importantly) just exactly where God has paced you for that time in your life.

Now, 2 ½ years later, I find myself amazingly blessed with a house that is quite close to the house of my dreams (even though I am constantly thinking about how we could build an addition), and a stable job in ministry for my husband (even though I often miss him, because he puts so much into his work), and friends and classes and a real community for my kids (even though I sometimes complain about how busy we are and how exhausted I am). You would think that I would look back on the summer of ’07 and say something to myself like, “Gosh… that was awful! Look at where we are now!” But I don’t, because I have learned that the very best place to be… the only place to be… is where God wants you to be. And it doesn’t really matter what you have or what you don’t, as long as you’re there…

A good friend of mine recently made a status update to facebook that said, “If I'm not content with what I have...I will never be content with MORE...” What is there to add to that?

Philippians 4:11-13 says, “I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” (NIV)

May we be content wherever God leads… And may we always be able to look back without regrets…

Our Family... Summer '07

Lisa