The Journey to our Arms

I am once again a first time mom - the experience of this birth was as unique as this new welcomed soul.  

I suppose with 9 children I could pretend to be an expert birther, I could even lie and say the more you have the easier it gets.  But that has proved to be far from the truth of my experiences.  With the pregnancy and birth of each child I have reached and retrieved unknown corners of my soul.  And it is the expansion of one's soul that allows greater capacity to love and nurture another.  Perhaps that is why birth is not designed to be easy.  

The journey endured to bring sweet Naomi into this world was certainly not easy.  Even after four weeks I can still feel the rawness of it.

Labor came on fast and hard, I was asleep and dreaming of someone poisoning me when I woke up with the intensity of a contraction that usually happens only in the late stages of labor. They did not stop and knocked the wind out of me so hard that when I called my midwife I was barely able to speak.  She sped on over thinking birth may happen before her arrival - good thing it didn't. I was relieved to see her and delighted that this may finally be happening. I breathed and danced through the worst of it then out of no where the labor slowed and I felt the familiar bump of a bum move back up into my ribs.  I can't say how frustrating this was but with vitals all good I decided the wisest course was to take a break and sleep.

The pattern of intense and irregular labor soon woke me and from there it was a blur of breathing, moving, hopping in and out of the tub, walking the hay field, crying and being fed, rubbed and nurtured by Paul and a rotation of three experienced women.

The photo above captured me by the fire on the second night with my friend Shelley rubbing my feet.  The midwives were close and attentive, they kept me hydrated and reassured me with positive fetal heart tones.  So we continued through to the following morning.  I was exhausted and frustrated, I did everything in my power to invite and assist a natural delivery but the feeling soon came that it was time to change course.  The midwives joined Paul and I in prayer as we sought direction, all of us felt peace around the decision to transfer to the hospital.  I knew in my heart that this baby needed to be delivered via c-section, I did not choose this but simply trusted in it. 

Our arrival at the hospital was emotional for me, I was still experiencing all the discomforts of labor but was more over whelmed by the feeling of peace and support surrounding me.  Paul and my midwife were by my side and as I was wheeled through long hallways and spacious corridors I felt the warmth, presence and reassurance of unseen angels also at my side.  I needed all of it.

I wish I could say the care in the hospital was as kind and nurturing as I had so far been treated with.  The truth is I was bullied, it is no honor to arrive on the labor and delivery floor as a home birth transfer with baby number 9.  It took a lot of energy for me to command the respect I deserved - it was here that I surprised myself with unknown strength.

I came to the hospital for a safe delivery for both myself and the baby.  I am grateful that that was the outcome.  What a joy it was to hear a cry and meet her eyes- another daughter! 9 lbs. 2 oz.  I wondered if being numb and strapped to the operating table would alter our first moments but that first gaze into her eyes had the feeling of greeting an old friend.  

Paul called home with news of a sister and the reaction was priceless - recorded on video was exuberant cheering, dancing and crying from Maryanna and Clara.  The boys were happy too, just not to the point of tears like their parents and sisters.  Here is Paul's account.

The road to recovery has been much harder this time around.  I feel so blessed that way back in October my sister Emily offered to come and help out sometime after the baby.  We arranged the ticket months ago and as it turns out her arrival was the very day we headed to the hospital.  She was there right when we needed help the most and stayed for 10 days rocking Naomi in the middle of the night and helping Paul feed and care for the others by day. She was as nurturing as a second mom to both me and my children.  We've been well supported by many others along the way as well, especially our children who have stepped up to greater responsibility.

The greatest blessing of all of course is the joy of welcoming a new member of our family.  She brought with her a calmness that is easing my recovery.  Her first smiles were within the first week of life and have been constant in cheering me through the weeks since.   I'm not sure when I'll make it back to full or even half speed again, but in the meantime cherishing every moment I get to feed, rock, rest and snuggle with this warm bundle of joy. 

Easter thoughts and blessings

Last weekend we enjoyed a sun filled Easter Sunday.  The kids found the most colorful eggs from around the barn, the blue green from the araucanas, chocolate brown from the marans and the light brown from the rest of the flock.  These were boiled up for breakfast and then they were off to church.  

I got to spend the morning resting with sweet little Naomi sleeping in my arms while tender thoughts reflected on the significance of the date and day. It was 14 years ago that day that my sister Julie passed away, I allowed myself to really miss her and wonder at how fast the years have passed.  I went back and watched President Uchtdorf's message from this last conference, it was one of my favorites and felt comfort in remembering the truth of his message, "The more we learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ, the more we realize that endings here in mortality are not endings at all. They are merely interruptions—temporary pauses that one day will seem small compared to the eternal joy awaiting the faithful" .

Easter is a day of remembering, renewal and great hope so I sunk into that while sinking into the healing glow of newborn eyes. I pondered on the life, love and sacrifice of the Savior Jesus Christ, the miracle of His resurrection, and the infinite blessing of eternal life offered to all who have ever lived.  

Later in the afternoon we had an Easter egg hunt that Paul's parents had so thoughtfully prepared for us.  A few of the kids helped spread the eggs and we started youngest to oldest.  Among the findings James discovered a hidden nest of chicken eggs and George spotted a half eaten bunny.  He screamed, "Aghhhh, the cats killed the Easter bunny".

For dinner we feasted on a meal of ham and potatoes that was also generously prepared by Paul's mom.  Our mealtime discussion bounced from how many goodies they collected, to what the learned and discussed in church that day.  Out of nowhere the question was dropped - "so what is the connection between plastic eggs and goodies and the resurrection of Jesus?"

I did not have a answer beyond that of new life, fresh beginnings and hope.  I then amused them with an experience from my childhood.  

When I was a little girl we had a cabin up north and on one occasion along the drive home there was a box of bunnies for sale.  My dad stopped and picked one up for us girls to share.  I remember my sister Emily tucking the fury creature into the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt for the remainder of the drive home.  We loved that bunny and named her Taffy.  That summer she was the focus of our attention, dressing her in bonnets, pushing her in doll strollers, feeding her parsley and flowers from the garden and letting her hop around the yard while we kart wheeled and searched for 4 leaf clovers.  Unfortunately she did not live through the next fall.  My brothers helped us bury her in a shoe box in the woods next to our home.  I was only around 6 years old but had a sure knowing that Taffy would live again, I didn't know how but knew it had something to do with Jesus and Easter.  So the following Easter I went back to the woods and waited by the site where she was buried fully expecting her to hop out of her grave and into my arms.  It did not happen so I went back every Sunday for a couple weeks only to end up disappointed.  I cried to my mom and asked why Taffy did not live again.  I can't remember my mom's exact response but I do remember feeling comfort in her arms as she shared her testimony of eternal life.  

This experience gifted me with a life long wonder of eternal life.  Since then I have lost a few more pets, and said good bye to grandparents, a few school mates and then my sister Julie.  Each of the experiences presented a series of despairing "why's?" and "how's?" all leading to to faith and hope in the same answer, "because of Him".  We shared this video with our children that evening.   Paul and I shared our personal thoughts and testimony of the Savior. And then a miracle happened - our children were actually reverent and listening for almost 5 minutes.  So if that is all they get out of years of noisy family home evenings, I am pleased. 

We finished the evening with our regular bedtime routine which was soon interrupted by the stomping of farm boots up the stairs - Yulemae had given birth to three babies! What a joyful way to say hello then good night on Easter Sunday 2014 - welcome to this beautiful world little goats!

Welcome to the world!

What a joy it is to share news of the arrival of sweet baby Naomi!  There is so much to say of her birth and the blessing it is to have her in our arms.  For now it is enough to say we are resting and basking in the sweetness of newborn scented snuggles and wondering eyes.

Thank you for all the thoughts and prayers offered on our behalf, they were heard and answered.

In waiting

I thought the baby would arrive weeks ago.  I've been ready but am still waiting.......10 days have passed since my due date.  I have reached this stage with one other pregnancy but forgot how mentally and emotionally taxing it is.

I recently skimmed through the book Birth without Violence and in it I found a phrase that I've set right near my bed:

Strength is......

Sure

Sovereign

and Smiling

Honestly I'm still growing into that phrase.  I showed it to James and he nodded and let a tiny smile crack from one side of his lips - "What!?" I demanded but then answered back before he could; I've been wobbly, needy and crying.  I do not apologize for this but simply recognize that acknowledging one's weakness is the first step towards growing into one's strength.

There have been moments throughout this pregnancy that I've doubted my capacity to care for and guide another child, I'd ask, how am I going to do this? and in my heart I'd be comforted, trust in higher purpose.  I feel that this last week especially I've been expanding into that trust.  

My midwife has been meeting with me every other day and I feel blessed to be physically well and feel the baby active and strong.

  

She has me wondering of divine timing and natural cycles. We live in a world attuned to the timing of an iPhone, where in less than 60 seconds we can access the weather report from 5 different cities around the world, text your sister who lives across the country and instantly receive a response, check on the daily happenings of long lost friends, google how to dye with onion skins and then order a new pair of boots that will show up on your door step within 24 hours.  Isn't that fantastic and frazzling!?

At this moment I feel the need to relax into the peace and stretch of aligning with divine timing and allowing the baby to enter this realm at his or her own appointed time.  I even feel the peace and acceptance of another forecast of a 9 degree low and snow today, it seems to our expectations spring weather is over due as well.

I am taking it one day at a time and am open and listening daily.  I am flexible in changing course if at any time if the message to do so is whispered.

I feel grateful to be surrounded in love and support.  Last week a handful of women and daughters from our homeschool group gathered for a Blessingsway.  They washed my feet in flower petals then rubbed them with oils, we spoke softly of the joys and blessings of motherhood and each presented words of love, encouragement and support.         

A few days later my friend Krissy arrived from San Diego.  She was with me in the days leading up to Charlie's birth and again supporting me in these most challenging days leading up this delivery.  We've been on outings, walked the back field, practiced yoga, laughed, cried and took on a huge painting project with all the kids as a distraction.  

The kids worked on their canvases for two full days all the while dodging puppies, kittens and very independent 2 year old.  It was very messy - many paw prints were soaked up along the way.

Here are their paintings starting with Charlie's 

George's

Henry's

Clara's

Maryanna's

Peter's

William's

James did not finish his yet and Krissy finally convinced me to fill a canvas. I kept it simple, a little verse that will be completed with the addition of baby foot prints.

Krissy impressed all of us with her artistic talent as we watched her painting come to life. This painting was composed as a gift to me at this very special time.  Though Clara joked it should be called "Feeling sorry for herself" Krissy titled it "Look into her eyes". 

Right now Krissy is heading back on a plane to San Diego.  I feel disappointed that the baby did not arrive during her visit but feel immensely grateful for her help and support during this last week of waiting.  I am grateful to have a friend who is able to hold space that allows authentic feelings and emotions to arise.  In her presence I was able to just be even when I did not feel like smiling. We all shed tears at our parting but feel of a blanket of warmth and peace she left behind, it has settled over our whole home.

By now the kids have become comfortable with tears flowing from my eyes at any moment.  George ran to my bedside this morning and asked if I wanted a tissue, upon his delivery he said, "mom, you need to get into nature today".  This was very wise counsel from a 4 year old so we bundled up and stomped through crusted snow and allowed fresh chunky snowflakes blast into our faces.

Walking through the snowy woods reminded me of a friend I got to visit last Sunday.  She has not been feeling well for several months and I carelessly said, "what a horrible winter it must have been for you".  Her response surprised me and instantly shifted my perspective and opened my eyes to greater optimism.  She replied, "this was the most beautiful season" and expressed her gratitude for the opportunity to lay on the couch and watch every snowfall.  She then reminded me that life is continually asking us to return to the beauty and blessing of "now".  This message was a gift to me.

Not sure what day I will be back with news of our arrival or if I'll have more to add in the days to come.  I feel at peace breathing into the patience of waiting and basking in the joy and beauty of "now". 
     

How to survive a really long winter

Not sure what happened to the original words I composed for this post but I'm guessing a 2 year old banged a little too hard on the keyboard in a moment I stepped away.  I hoped to record the feelings and activities from this past winter - but this morning it is spring so I'm having a hard time retrieving the exact words. In this case I will allow the pictures to share the bulk of the story.

This winter was long, it was snowy, the van got stuck several times, the boys were iced over knee down after daily farm chores and hearts were heavy on the day our two ducks did not survive.

There were a variety of snow forts and snow people sculpted and the girls dug a snow cave with several holes and named it the "Holestel".The kids were cooperative in sharing two pairs of cross-country skis and the bees survived! 

Paul relieved us from an unexpected toilet episode and he also cleared lots of snow.  We celebrated birthdays and Valentines and it seems everyday was a costume party.  Oma and Opa treated us with a quick visit, we treated ourselves to indoor s'mores by the fire and on the longest of days spread out indoor picnics.  

We shed tears of gratitude as we feasted on our grass fed beef and spent nights crowded by the fire dreaming of summer projects and future farm plans.

The girls painted through pages of watercolor paper (Maryanna is the artist of the new blog header) while the older boys quietly dove into their individual passions - James performed physics experiments, Peter planned out the garden and started 85 tomato seedlings and William took thousands of photos for stop motion Lego brick films.  As for the younger boys, they took to sword fighting, begging for shows, and making messes whenever the opportunity allowed.  They were harder to contain but the baby wrap hammocks under the table did amuse them for one full day.

I stole away as many naps as I could and cooked pots and pots of warm rice pudding and even more of broth.

We watch with delight the daily growth and bloom of the amaryllis.  We also watched my belly grow and wondered of the new soul that will soon be a part of us.  Brother or sister?  there were many prayers begging for each and honestly a few punches thrown in disagreement over what this sibling may be.

Lastly, the hauling of wood and feeding the fire was constant.  It seems so long ago that we sweated through our 4th of July holiday splitting and stacking wood.  I am amazed at the extremes of the seasons, each with its challenges, joys and beauties.

The snowsuits and boots are washed and packed away, lost mittens have been found and mud boots are lined up on the side porch.  

I am grateful to for the fullness we experienced this winter and also grateful to once again see patches of grass, hear birds sing and welcome spring.