A Condensed & Random Reverie

What is the draw to express yourself in a public platform versus a private journal or conversation? I don't have any answers that make sense right now. I just know that my words are different here, more organized, opposed to the jumbled pile of puzzle pieces inside my brain. It seems if one might be listening, the motivation to string together a train of  thoughts that possibly make sense is worth enough to take the time to  sit down and express them. I have other motivations too--like keeping a record for my children of the struggles and striving we all have and for those who need to feel understood or not alone.

The last three years have easily been the most trying, most soul-stretching, most mind-blowing years of my existence. I cannot say the many years before that were easy either. The beautiful part about that is that it does not fill me (mostly) with sadness or fear, although negative emotions and deep-seated insecurities still linger, I have been given a gift and a deep gratitude for the lessons I have been able to experience. I am changed, different. My eyes are fresh yet again. I am by no means through these lessons and onto the "other side" of anything. I only know that it is all meaningful. Each lesson, each pain, each person has given me a offering, a priceless opportunity to grow. There is nothing I desire in this life more than to grow into the over-sized shoes that God has given me to fill. It seems daunting on days when the never-ending details feel more than excessive, and exhilarating on days when I see His hand in the simple gesture of a stranger. Finding solutions to the problems we face on a daily basis has ultimately become my life's work. Dreaming may be my favorite hobby but finding meaning, discovering satisfaction and feeling passion through the expression of the work, through DOING is what fills my cup. Beyond our nagging responsibilities, isn't that what gets us all up in the morning?

Understanding that time is the most precious resource we have and integrity is the wisest investment we can make in this life, it feels as if there is not a moment, not even one choice to lose.  A favorite quote by Richard L. Evans has been such a perfect reminder to ponder again and again:

"Life offers you two precious gifts-one is time, the other freedom of choice, the freedom to buy with your time what you will... Every day, every hour, every minute of your span of mortal years must sometime be accounted for. And it is in this life that you walk by faith and prove yourself able to choose good over evil, right over wrong, enduring happiness over mere amusement. And your eternal reward will be according to your choosing.     

A prophet of God has said: 'Men are that they might have joy'--a joy that includes a fullness of life, a life dedicated to service, to love and harmony in the home, and the fruits of honest toil--an acceptance of the Gospel of Jesus Christ--of its requirements and commandments. 

Only in these will you find true happiness, the happiness which doesn't fade with the light and the music and the crowds."

As life involuntarily screams on by, we have intentionally slowed down the rhythm of our days in an almost meditative unfolding of the last three years. We sold our 4 bedroom home and replaced the 2,000 square feet with 300 square feet of mobile minimalism. We traded the public conveyor belt education of our children with the philosophies of unschooling, crowning curiosity as King and the love of learning as our main pursuit. No more sports events or private music lessons or weekly MUST-MAKE appointments. The surrender of our lifestyle and quest for freedom has shifted our career paradigm and forced us to ask acutely significant questions like, "why are we choosing this?" "if we say yes to this, what are we simultaneously saying no to?" and "what do we really want with the years we have left with our children in our home and the unnumbered years of our very lives?"  I often feel like I take life too seriously and have an intense desire to lighten things up with humor, dancing and good ole' fun times, but nothing will ever take the place of how we choose to spend our time. Our very happiness and overall satisfaction upon our death bed depends on it.

Somedays this philosophy can cripple my ability to make decisions or immobilize the path I thought I needed to take when my energy is feeling drained, but mostly time spent in conscious living is time well spent even if it appears to have accomplished nearly not even a single thing.  The goal is the not the destination but finding joy in the journey...or something cliche like that.

Here is what I know and a why journaling my thoughts is so important, in a few points:

-Writing is more than cathartic to my tortured artist soul. The discovery was made many years ago that I was one born to express with my body, mind, heart and soul-- creating through doing is something I must do for survival. It's a basic need in my limited world of understanding and allows me the space to interpret or make sense of my experiences.

-Recording my perspective adds gobs of gratitude to my pursuit of happiness and comprehension. It adds flavor to my participation and sophistication to my cooperation with the happenings of my life. I start to see things differently when I reflect on them once in the moment and again on the blank page. It also invites a deep reverence for the blessings I am constantly surrounded by and fills the cracks of what at times feels broken with a love and appreciation for the ALL that I have, even the challenges.

-Leaving a legacy to my posterity is more than a book of flowery words or pretty pictures. What is the saying about history and if it goes unstudied, it will just be repeated? The desire to help, even BETTER the next generation is in the deepest corners of our genetics, it's instinct. Telling the stories of our lives is not just for entertainment and endearment, but for the building up of, the learning, the growing, the lessons that sometimes only our own blood can relate with and benefit from. Knowing the struggles, the toils, the trials, the contemplations, the clammorings, the mistakes, as well as the rejoicings, the triumphs, the sacrifices, the convictions and the priorities of the ones who have gone before us should be cherished as the most valuable trove of treasures.

-In my limited 32.9 years, I have discovered that my heart's desire, above all, is to do what is right. The desire to be loved, experience joy, have fun, and live in freedom, is overshadowed by an insatiable appetite to understand my unique purpose on this path, and keep the promises I made during my premortal existence for this life in the presence of my Heavenly Parents and to those who would need me and whom I also need. Doing the right thing isn't always as obvious as it may seem. Remembering is the key to the lock. So what does this have to do with blogging? Accountability. Authenticity. Pellucidity. Discernment. Vulnerability.

"Inspiration exits, but it has to find you working"- Picasso

This is part of my work, mainly to find but also to give inspiration. This is but one platform to access it, fail at it, and start all over again. The aim is to discover myself again and again, with a new skin and a new purpose--refined, still imperfect but in a constant state of striving. Growing, stretching, learning, and loving it all and loving God above all.

The Garden of Our Minds

I've said it before, I'll say it again, the energy of Spring touches the deepest corners of my soul. I love every season for the diversity it gives to our lives, but I am certain my soul was born amidst the bursting creations of nature when life in every form was exploding with color and scent and energy. I feel at home with Spring--it inspires me to see further and reach higher and awake from the deep sleep that I often experience during winter. Every year my vision is a little clearer with this awakening. I feel the energy in my cells is mirrored through the blossoms, air, mountains and greenery that surrounds my valley existence.

Yes, we found this guy in our yard!

I promised myself that the yard and garden would take a backseat this summer because I am working really hard at prioritizing my life, and since a few other things have taken a front seat I know there will always be time in the future to develop a greener thumb. As I strolled through my yard early this morning before anyone was awake and saw my peonies struggling to break through from last years dead stalks, the grass peaking up through the strawberries, the espaliered apple tree in need of some pruning and guidance, and my raspberries slowing invading my vegetable garden box. I was surprisingly not overwhelmed by the hours of work there is to do, only pulled by the potential of what could be and the life that is already budding and willing to give with just a few short hours of my attention.  I know the law of the harvest will give back to us an abundance of blessings--even more than we can receive--but the seeds must be sown, and the ground must be cultivated, and the young plants carefully watched and fed. Even the smallest effort brings forth fruit.

These last few months I have experienced my own version of that awakening that I now understand has been a long time coming. My paradigm has taken such a dramatic shift, that I know while looking  backwards and forward, I am on a different path and my life will never, can never be the same. There are several factors that have allowed my eyes to be opened but the thread of truth that I am creating my new version of life with is this: My thoughts create my life experience.

 

The words of  James Allen in As A Man Thinketh, have forever altered my reality. He says,

Just as a gardener cultivates his plot, keeping it free from weeds, and growing the flowers and fruits which he requires, so may a man tend the garden of his mind, weeding out all the wrong, useless, and impure thoughts, and cultivating toward perfection the flower and fruits of right, useful and pure thoughts. By pursuing this process, a man sooner or later discovers that he is the master-gardener of his soul, the director of his life. He also reveals, within himself, the laws of thought and understands, with ever increasing accuracy how the thought-forces and mind elements operate in the shaping of his character, circumstances and destiny.

These words along with many others that I have studied and sown into the soil of my life have helped me to understand why up until now I have only been experiencing a minute fraction of joy and peace that is ultimately mine to have in abundance. We are that we might have joy, and all the struggle I have experienced for the past decade has been a manifestation of what I thought I deserved and what I thought I was destined for. Our realities will never exceed our deepest beliefs. I can see clearly now that every childhood dream or young adult aspiration of mine was allowed to be crushed by the seeds of negativity which I continually fed, and slowly grew without my conscious knowledge to nearly choke the life out of almost everything good that I could have been experiencing.

With a simple shift in my perspective, my life is not any different than it was 5 months ago, except that it is-- it is entirely and eternally different. I now understand (and hope to never allow myself to forget) that I am everything that God needs me to be, right now--I am enough. I can have and do and be all that I want now and forever because I am the master of what I experience in this life and the next. Not even God himself can take away the thoughts I choose to have about my circumstances, which are ultimately the dreams I make into my realities.

I have taken up the practice of meditation and it has rocked my world (I am excited to get better at it, because I need a lot more practice). Time is now a friend instead of my enemy and I am learning how build a partnership with the universe as a whole to basically follow the laws I attract into my life. Is this getting weird? All I know is that I see with new eyes and I am determined to reprogram a brain that has been fed a lot of garbage. You know the rule? Garbage in, garbage out! Understandably, Rome was not built in a day, and neither will my life/mind but I want to rid existence of every material possession and thought and habit that does not serve me. Baby steps: this is my daily goal, and the good news is that every moment I am given a blank slate.

Like begets like. The light that continues to flood into my life and mind when I commit myself to seeking out truth is nothing short of overwhelmingly uplifting. I am understanding foundational principles that without them I see has caused a lot of confusion and frustration in the past and as my understanding grows, life becomes simpler and invites the peace that I have yearned for, for so long. As I become more aware of my thoughts and how they make me feel, and how they are the source of my every action, I am simultaneously being taught deeply of faith, and prayer and love in ways that I have not ever known. It has been so magnificent that I am hardly able to begin in describing the experience here.


For the last decade I bowed to the belief that dreams or happiness were for those with things I had not yet and would never attain. In what feels like a moment, I realize that I could not have believed anything more devastating or more corrupt. If I commit to teaching my children anything, it will be this: you can break the chains of disbelief and negativity that hold you captive to a life a misery--you can invite everything good and light and true into your life by choosing to feed only those things that serve for uplifting purposes. With this power mastered, and it is within us all, all things are possible.

Again James Allen said,

To desire is to obtain; to aspire is to achieve. Shall man's basest desires receive the fullest measure of gratification, and his purest aspirations starve for a lack of sustenance? Such is not the Law: such a condition of thing can never obtain: "ask and receive"

and in Mathew 7:7

Ask and it shall be given you; seek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you.

Everything our heart desires is ours to have. There is no limit to our joy, no cap on our dreams. It starts with what thoughts we choose to feed in the garden of our mind and the daily habits we choose to cultivate. Good fruit is available in abundance to anyone who sincerely asks and seeks for it. It has and will always be there, God just waits for us to submit, open and receive. There is no requirement but to ask and believe that all He has is already ours for the harvesting.

April's photo bomb

This thang needs an update, in a serious way. Life is moving so fast these days, I really want to be better at recording it.

The classic family Easter photo & Mr. Grumpy Pants.

The cutest bum, ever.

Lego books, boogers, and blank stares.

None of us can get enough of this girl. And she can't seem to get enough to eat.

Waisting away, I tell ya.

That really scary moment when your 6 year old walks in

and you know exactly what he'll look like at 16.

 

 

 I think I'm starting to figure out this girl.

Give her what she wants and the whole wide world is happy.

This boy, he needs his mother and his brain functions like his father.

It's that simple. Oh, and he inherited those eyebrows (or lack of) from me.

For spring break we planned a stay-cation. One day we played in Park City and stopped to relax in the views of the backside of Timp. Park City was great, but nothing can compare to letting your kids go wild in nature and observing them create and explore. It's my favorite thing in the world.

I'm so glad they have each other.

How have I not posted about our two weeks in WA/OR...two months ago?

These two are a crack-up together.

We love cousins.

Juni's Birth Story: Part Last, Closing Up Shop--Bittersweet

 

Thursday, March 15^th- Rod had to work the rest of the week, so even though my aunt and friends helped take my kids during the day, I was really scared that any move I made would cause me to start bleeding heavily again. I was scared to death that every time I used the bathroom or got up to eat, I would pass out and Juni would be all alone. And when the kids were home, it was impossible to rest. I had a sinking feeling that all was not resolved with my body and the question of why I hemorrhaged so badly still floated around in my mind. All I knew is that I had bled for six weeks after my previous miscarriage and started hemorrhaging because a piece of placenta the size of my pinkie fingernail was still attached and it took me nearly five months to recover from the effects of that. I did not want that to happen again! I had a family and a newborn to take care of and I needed to know for sure that I wouldn’t start hemorrhaging again and that I was on the path to full recovery. That afternoon I called my midwives and set up another ultra-sound for the next day.

 

Friday, March 16^th- My friend Elisa offered to drive me to my OB/midwife office. A topical ultrasound confirmed my endometrial lining clear and recovering but after expressing my concerns that all was not right, she gave me a vaginal ultrasound and found something that she had to bring the OB in to look at. He suggested a vaginal exam and to spare you most of the gory details, he proceeded to pluck out a golf-ball-sized piece of placenta that was still deeply attached. TMI?  I left the clinic dazed and shaking from the pain of it all (Elisa was more traumatized than me) but so grateful to have found the source of the problem!

 

I was still somewhat leery though, so I scheduled several more ultrasounds in the coming weeks. I continued to bleed for 12 more weeks until the last piece of placenta, the size of a pea, was passed. It took ten months to lose the 65lbs I had gained.

 

……………………….

 

At my 6-week post-partum visit, both the midwife and OB strongly advised against me having anymore babies. Though their reasoning didn’t quite align with each other (naturally, since it is only their opinion), it has left me confused on the end of what might happen physically if I ever got pregnant again. From what little research I’ve done I do know for sure there is a high risk of a few things: 1) I could have a (or more) miscarriage(s), for who knows what reason really, but with me the risk is a lot higher than normal 2) I would most likely get placenta accreta again, where the placenta attaches too deeply in my uterine lining and won’t detach (which is what I think caused the hemorrhaging and was present most likely because of my previous D&C) 3) I would absolutely get Cholestasis again which then puts the baby at risk for still-birth (an awful thing to worry about for 9 months!), could permanently damage my liver and if the baby made it to 35 weeks again, I would definitely have to be induced.  Among those icky risks, I know I would also spend 9 months in a dreadful emotional hole of depression that takes a very long time (physically as well as emotional) to dig myself out of. The idea of any/all of those risks gives me instant anxiety.

 

Both during the pregnancy and many months after her birth I deeply struggled to whole-heartedly accept that Juni would be my last baby. Not because I wanted to endure it again, but because the stage of having babies has consumed the last decade in my life and it was really scary to see myself moving on from all the beautiful moments of seeing babies learn and grow. Plus in my mind, I had always pictured myself with more than four children. It’s so hard to explain that pull! I cried so hard when I folded up a few of the newborn outfits that all four of my children wore after they came home from the hospital, knowing I most likely would never cuddle a baby in them ever again and I cried often for the same reason when each little stage passed. Babies bring a spirit into the home that is irreplaceable. But seasons are a part of life and I appreciate both the struggle and the joy that has come from learning to flow with the seasons. I am so grateful for the family that I have, the children who have taught me so much and the healthy body that I now enjoy. We have been blessed beyond belief. I am learning to see the plan that God has in store for me, even when it doesn’t fit the picture I have painted inside my head. I couldn’t ask for more than what I have and hope to always be mindful of the blessings that have come through figuring out all the hard stuff. I am learning to cherish the present.

 

So now, I am purging anything Juniper outgrows and you know what!?  I am grateful to say for the most part it has been liberating! I don’t know what is in our future but it shines so much brighter in my mind knowing that more life-altering pregnancies most likely won’t be a part of that.  Do me a favor though…please save me a set of boy/girl twins for me to adopt in about five years so I can name them Hansel & Gretel? Perhaps I will have figured out how to manage four by then--but probably not.     

Juni's Birth Story: Part 3, Midnight Mayhem

Monday, March 12^th, 8:25p.m.-A healthy baby in arms, a picture perfect birth/induction and no longer pregnant! I was on cloud nine. Family was texted with the news and the kids are on their way down with my cousin to see their new sister. My Aunt and Uncle find my room before I even get back down and I am so excited to tell them about how wonderful the day had been, how great I felt and how perfectly Juni is doing (Rod follows the nurses to do some further preemie tests with her in the nursery as well as getting her squeaky clean). I was in awe of the blessings received throughout the day and am so happy I could burst.

 

9:25p.m.- Things take a nose dive for the worst. After a brief visit my aunt and uncle leave my room and my nurses urge me to use the bathroom again. They help me in and after surprising us all by passing several fist-sized blood clots, I felt my consciousness start to slip. All the while, my nurses are holding me and asking me questions to keep me awake, I also hear my kids banging impatiently on the outside of my room door, impatient to see their new sister and mom after two days  in the hospital (while, they told me later, the emergency light was beeping on and off above my door). As much as I fought myself passing out, I knew it was inevitable and coming back into consciousness after a few minutes was just as nauseating as fighting to stay awake. It was awful but I thought we could figure this all out fairly quickly after I took a few minutes to say Hi to my kids and send them off for the night. With my face as white as a ghost, my nurses help me back into bed, throw a blanket over me and my cousins and kids walk in the room a little confused to see me laying there without the baby. I get hugs and kisses from my kids, some divine mango sorbet from my cousin and after explaining where the baby was to three disappointed children, my cousin shuffled them back out the door to peek in the nursery before they head back home to bed with Rod. I’m getting tired and all I want to do is snuggle to sleep with my baby.

 

10:00p.m- Midnight-  My nurse comes back in to perform the dreaded “uterus massages” and I feel several more clots pass. She looks worried as she plugs the pitocin back in the IV in my arm, ordered from my midwife, along with an oral dose of methrogin. Every 5-15 minutes she returns to massage my uterus, collect several fist-size clots I am passing and weighs every ounce to see how much blood I am losing and how fast.  My midwife also checks in on me every so often and is worried to see that the cramping medications or continual massaging has had little effect on my hemorrhaging. After a few more attempts to pass my clots in the bathroom end in more passing out (and that deathly nausea that accompanies it!), my nurse collects all my blood from my bed and I start to feel the effects from so much blood-loss. Fortunately I am still able to hold my Juni and nurse her about every three hours. I snuggle her naked body against my chest under my blankets and try to sleep between the constant vital-sign checks and uterine massages. I am still hemorrhaging.

 

Tuesday, March 13^th, 12:30a.m.- 3:00a.m- I can hardly hold my head up at this point without passing out, and my nurse is collecting/weighing my blood around the clock, so after more consultation with the doctors, I am wheeled down to get an ultra-sound to see if there is retained placenta in my uterus. I am still passing enormous clots every 5-15 minutes, so I have more blood drawn to see if the clotting factors controlled by my liver are at a normal level. Both tests come back with no difinitive answers and my midwife Kathryn is opting for a D&C but the doctors say a hysterectomy may be in order if they can’t find the reason for the bleeding. My eyes feel like they are sinking deep into my head and I can hardly swallow my mouth is so dry and sticky no matter how much water I drink* but my anxiety is almost solely focused on how Juni is doing and when I can hold my head up long enough to nurse and hold her and who will take care of her as I pass in and out of consciousness. My hematocrit levels are dropping fast so Kathryn tells me I need a blood transfusion and asks me to call Rod to come give me a blessing (my incredible friend Elisa comes over to my house to watch the kids through the night). My nurse, Natalie, diligently continues taking care of me, weighing my blood loss and trying to keep me comfortable. The doctors can’t figure out why I am hemorrhaging and I drift in and out of consiousness. When I am awake, my mind and sight is so blurred I can hardly make sense of what is happening in the room. I only have eyes for my baby.

 

*Kathryn explained to me later (my memory of that night is so hazy) that I asked her to please keep me awake because every time I closed my eyes I felt like I would never be able to open them again, that I felt like I was dying. So even though she had been at the hospital for almost 24 hours at this point, she sat next to me for over two hours and kept me talking. She said that after 15 years in the field she had never been so scared for one of her patients.

 

 

4:00-6:30a.m.- Shortly after Rod shows up, they start my transfusion. I am given two units of blood. I am now hooked up with IV’s on both arms, and have a catheter in—I can hardly move or see. It’s so nice to have Rod there, knowing he is holding the baby while I try to sleep but I don't think he has a clue of what has happened through the night. I am confused and scared but too exhausted to worry about bleeding to death in my sleep…I just want to soak up my baby.

 

7:00a.m.- noon Rod has to leave to head to work at the same time my nurses switch and Kathryn heads home. I feel alone and vulnerable and scared that I can’t take care of Juni (even though the staff was doing a great job at keeping tabs on both of us). I still haven’t eaten anything since before my induction and my body is so swollen from all the IV’s I can hardly open my eyes or move my toes. I can’t get out of bed, sit up or even easily adjust my body so I just try to sleep in my sweat against those nasty plastic sheets. My bleeding finally starts to show signs of slowing down. It's been over 16 hours since Juni was born.

 

Noon-8:00p.m.- My lethargy prevents any visitors, especially my kids, but Juni is still doing fantastic—the nurses are so surprised that she’ll most likely be ready to go home before me! All I can muster is to drink and drink, my body retaining every ounce of fluid that is entering. Nursing is difficult only because my IV’s on both arms/hands are getting sore and the lines make it a hassle. Between drinking and nursing and feeling sad I can’t get up to enjoy my baby, I finally get in a few hours of solid sleep.

9:00p.m.through the night- I am given another two units of blood via IV because I have not yet recovered my hematocrit levels. Still, all I can do is nurse while lying down and try to sleep through the constant vital-sign checks and the beeping of my leg-compressors. It’s another restless, exhausting night.

 

Wednesday, March 14^th- Oh, how I am grateful for blood-donors! I am starting to feel better! I can sit up and am eating semi-solids by mid-morning. My bleeding has slowed down so much that by noon I can finally have my IV’s and catheter removed. After another few failed attempts (passing out) to the bathroom, I can finally stand up and walk around and hold my baby. I eat, make a few phone-calls, shower, and to my shock, the nurses say we can both be checked out that evening. Rod came and picked us up and even though I was swollen and tired, I felt so good compared to where I had been the day before—I was ready to go home and sleep in my own bed. The kids were elated to see me and the baby, but I instantly started having anxiety and getting overwhelmed about my responsibilities (as most of us do when we walk through the doors of our home with a new baby). This time was different, I felt like I was walking on egg-shells. I could only walk a few feet before getting winded and was still retaining fluids and swollen. I knew something was not right.

 

 

Juni's Birth Story: Part 2, Room With a View

Large and In Charge: last picture with just the five of us

 

Monday, March 12^th, 11:00a.m.- I get transferred up to the Labor & Delivery Level to a wide-windowed view of Timpanogos and after sneaking in a yummy full breakfast and changing into my coziest clothes, I bring all my goodies with me: jigsaw puzzle, music, books, essential oil diffuser, etc. This is my third induction and by golly, I’m going to enjoy it! Rod shows up with his current toy, a rubik’s cube, and plops himself on the couch determined to solve it before the baby is born. My favorite midwife is on-call at the hospital today (the same one that delivered both Elliot and Flora) and I feel so lucky to have her there with me. She confirms that I am dialated to a 3. Both Kathryn and my nurse chuckle when they walk in and see Rod concentrating on his cube puzzle and me above my jigsaw, sprawled over two meal trays. I am hooked up to the IV with pitocin and there is a baby monitor around my stomach, but I walk the room dragging my lines with me and work on my puzzle while the room fills with the scent of fresh squeezed lemon, listening to itunes on shuffle. It’s pleasant and quiet, even dreamy. We surprisingly fill the next few hours with little more than our own thoughts.

 I don't remember looking like this. For the most part, it was the most relaxing day I'd had in ages! (read: no young children were present)

 3:30p.m. – My contractions are very consistently every two minutes for the last four hours, but I hardly need to concentrate through them—they are comfortably uncomfortable. I am now dilated to a 5. Kathryn and I decide that breaking my water will definitely speed things up and sure enough they do. I put my puzzle away, breath through my increasingly difficult contractions and consider the thought of having her in a few hours.

 

5:00 p.m. –I’m finally ready to order the epidural but the anesthesiologist takes his sweet time (as it always feels like they do) and by the time he comes into my room I can tell I am just about into transition. Despite that, he does an excellent job and though the contraction pain is gone, I can still feel the pressure and move my legs. I am a happy camper! My midwife has another patient in the room next door that is about as far into labor as me and has been juggling between the two of us.

 

6:00 p.m.- As soon as Kathryn leaves the room, I feel a huge amount of pressure and I instantly knew it was Go Time. Afraid to even open my legs because I could feel the baby coming out, the nurse confirms me dilated to a ten and goes to get my midwife and the preemie-nurse team. All the while, Rod and I are happy as clams, and in a very surreal laid-back manner, anticipating the first minutes of her birth knowing they are so close. The atmosphere is so calm and happy and as soon as all was set up for the baby, my midwife helped me sit up from lying on my side. As soon as I opened my knees I couldn’t hold her in me anymore so Kathryn asked me to stop pushing to adjust her head, but I wasn’t pushing! She helped me reach down and pull her out!

 

Please feel free to ignore Fleshy Me, but feast your eyes upon the sweetest baby in the world adoring her mother for finally getting her out of that musty cave.

 

6:25p.m.- Juniper Jeanne laid on my tummy (her cord was really short) while Rod filmed and snapped some pictures in between cutting the cord and admiring our baby girl. She hardly made any noise and felt fairly floppy, so as soon as the cord was cut the nurses took her and cleaned out her airway and rubbed her up until she let out a few whimpers, then a few small cries and pinked right up. Weighing in at 6 pound and 15 ounces, she looked so so good and acted as far as we could tell like a full-term baby! She was breathing great on her own, and all her scores looked great. They kept telling me that she could still have trouble nursing or have trouble breathing as time went on but we were so relieved to see her doing so well, so soon. She latched right on and didn’t stop nursing until it was time to pack up and head down to the Mother/Baby level. All the while, I hardly took notice of the fact that my placenta hadn’t come out afterwards in one whole piece. My midwife worked for about 20 minutes to try and get a separate piece to disconnect from my uterus. When all that she could see was out, and I was done nursing, I stood up and walked (yes walked after an epidural!) over to use the restroom before collecting my things to go back to my room—I felt so so fantastic! Is there hardly a more surreal moment in your life than the few hours after you meet your baby for the first time? Oh, and she was sweeter than honey.

 

You can't tell here, but her head was really cone-shaped for a good month after she was born. I was was a little nervous it was going to be permament.  

 

Part 1 here.

Juni's Birth Story: Part 1, An Early Spring Surprise

Juniper's birth was a defyning moment and period in my life. I recorded this timeline a few weeks after she was born, but it never felt like the right time to share it. In retrospect, I can see how this last year has shaped me through the bumps in the road, but Juniper has been a shining light in the storm. I am so grateful that she was hard to get here to our family (on many levels), because I have treasured her precious life all the more for it.

 

Wednesday, March 7^th- 35 weeks: routine midwife appointment. I finally convince them to test for Cholestasis* because I have every symptom (except the loss of appetite dang it!) although the itching is very minimal. They include: dark urine (even though I drank a ton), early (mine started around 20 weeks) and continuing contractions that were triggered by even the slightest physical activity (walking up the stairs, walking more than 15 yards, putting Flora in her car seat, any housework whatsoever, etc), DEPRESSION!, continuing nausea, anxiety, never-ending crippling fatigue, and over-all feeling extremely crummy, cranky and useless. I also have normal last-trimester stuff like insomnia, edema, weight-gain and such.

*I had been tested several times for bladder infections (through urine tests) because of my early-contraction symptoms when I thought I was being tested for Cholestasis (only found through blood tests). Somehow I knew I would have it again and this time around I knew what to look for. Basically because of my wacky hormone and cholesterol levels, my liver stops functioning correctly so my bile gets backed up and enters my blood stream, which is then transferred through to the baby and can be poisonous. This is when stillbirth becomes the risk.  I didn’t know how the removal of my gallbladder after Flora was born would affect me since there hasn’t been much study in general for cholestasis especially regarding a cholecystectomy. Early on I had placenta previa (where the placenta partially covered my cervix) which had almost resolved itself by this point and through the urine test I also tested positive for Strep B, both of which may or may not have caused further complications at birth.  

Thursday, March 8th- Tests results come back and I get a phone message from a midwife saying my bile acid levels are very high as are my liver functions and for now, I’ll need a daily blood test for those levels and a non-stress test everyday for the baby until delivery. Consultation with the doctors begin, and they say I will definitely be induced early but timing depends on how my bile acid/liver function levels change. I am thinking 38-39 weeks would be great but I better get busy finally prepping for the baby! By this time in my previous pregnancies I had usually been nesting for several weeks and I have a whole array of projects and cleaning completed…this time around, there wasn’t an ounce of energy to be spared past getting my kids to school and simply surviving. This was a source of anxiety.

Friday, March 9th- Go in for more blood work and a non-stress test. Baby looks great.

Saturday, March 10th, 4p.m.- My angel Aunt comes over and scrubs my house clean, just in case! More blood work and a non-stress test. Baby looks great. Blood work from Friday comes in. My results say that my levels have doubled in one day (I never recorded the numbers and I’ve forgotten them now!) Risk of still-birth in last trimester with cholestasis is there but getting even higher with rising levels.

Saturday 9p.m.- Call from midwife on-call: OB’s and Perinatologist  suggest demand I check in to the hospital immediately so I /baby can be monitored 24/7 until delivery. I don’t know if it will be 3 weeks or three days, so I pack my bags, shower, and drive myself to the hospital at midnight (I am feeling so lonely!).  More blood work after check-in and non-stress tests every four hours, around the clock. The sleepless hospital nights begin and with a very poor internet connection, I am left to alone to my thoughts for an inordinate amount of time looking out my window at the snow-tipped mountains. Admittedly, it’s kind of nice! I have books, crochet/knit projects, journal, etc… but mostly I just sit around and try to finally comprehend that the hell of pregnancy may be coming to an end sooner than I thought (also scrambling to find people to watch my kids for the rest of the week since Rod has no time-off work and we were told the baby would most likely be in the hospital a few extra days for being pre-term). I hadn’t even allowed myself to dream about the day I’d finally have a baby in my arms until this point... we'd hardly even discussed a name for the poor girl! I ping-pong between nervousness for the baby’s health and excitement at the thought of finally meeting her.

Sunday, March 11th- More blood work,  (you should see the inside of my elbows at this point--purple). I give Rod a healthy list of to-do’s (like wash clothes, blankets, and car-seat cover so the poor kid doesn’t come home naked and nameless) along with braving church alone with the three kids (he later told me it was disastrous). Our home teachers come with Rod and the kids to give me a blessing. I can see Flora is taking it the hardest and starting to wonder what is happening to her world. They go home as noisily as they came and I sit in my rocking chair and walk the halls of the Mother/Baby level the rest of the day. I peek into the nursery wondering what my baby will look like, if she’ll be a good nurser, if she’ll come out wailing or quietly, and watch all the new moms cuddle with the newest love of their life. I don’t give one thought to the recovery (like usual), I just think about holding my baby…it’s a good, quiet, peaceful day. Later that night I get my first round of steroids (prednisone) in case of the baby’s under-developed lungs.

Monday, March 12th, 6 a.m.- Second round of steroid shots given and blood work results come in from early Sunday saying my levels have doubled again. Now, not only is the baby at a higher risk for being still-born (the OB says he's delivered several still-born babies with bile acids at my level), but my liver is failing and the risk for a host of serious liver diseases is a real possibility. I will be induced today. Calls are made, children are being cared for by my awesome friends and neighbors and Rod preps to leave work. I feel at peace with all of this even though the circumstances aren’t ideal. I have a feeling that things will turn out ok for her, even if she has to spend a few days in the level 2 nursery for preemie monitoring. I am grateful that she had healthily made it this far and am hopeful (even grateful?) that my 60+ pound weight gain (I was heavier at this point than ever before in my life) was put to good use in fattening her up. My midwife estimates 6lbs and I hope for at least a 7-pounder but we are all left to guess as to how she’ll handle the world 4.5 weeks early and under-cooked.

Monday 8-10a.m.- Since I’m not hooked up to any IV’s yet (they are readying my room in labor and delivery for the induction), I take a walk around the hospital and plant myself near a horse field to inhale a gorgeous crisp spring day and soak up the mountain view while I write in my journal and contemplate the birth of my fourth child! I begin with a letter to my unborn baby girl and it officially feels like Spring.  Ahhhh. It’s a good day to have a baby…

Im just now remembering that Flora had a high fever for the entire 5 days before I left for the hospital and all three kids were on anti-biotics for strep throat. Our house was achin'  for a cleanse in more ways than one...but she sure was excited to have a baby sister!
 

365 days of Juniper Jeanne

We are celebrating Juni today. In fact, she is so gracious (and delicious, might I add) that I believe we will celebrate her all week long. To me, her birthday will always signify the first day of spring. She is the pot of gold at the end of our rainbow and her sunshine fills my soul.

Happy First Birthday to my beautiful baby girl!

Yes, that's a shiner she's got on her birthday and yes, she got sprinkles on her oatmeal. Her siblings adore her too.


I have lots of posts and pictures to catch up on with her (and our trip to WA/OR we just returned from)....maybe even, finally, her birth story? Time will tell...

Well hello 2013

I have a very strong feeling that 2013 is going to be the game-changer year. We have already been blasted with blessings that have filled our cup until it runneth over. Things have very suddenly become busier than ever for me, but the energy it has given me makes it all worth it and more.

Amidst all the recent busyness, Rod allowed me to leave the girls at home to go have lunch with the boys at school today. Why have I never done this before? (Well, I guess unemployment does have some benefits). It was such an amazing window into the life I am not witnessing when my boys go away to school all day. I entered the lunch room to mingle with hundreds of 1st and 2nd graders and left feeling so appreciative for all those energetic little bodies and capable little minds. They were so cute and so full of light. I wanted to squeeze every single one (especially the ones who looked lonely) and tell them what a bright spot they were in the world.

Milo might have as well been king because kids never ceased to bring him treats or tell him secrets as they look on for approval, beg to sit next to him and offer him their number for play dates. I don't think he has even a clue how many look to him as a leader, but truly he was born to get others' attention. He never stops talking and is always comparing the outside world to the inside world of science he is so curious about. His desire to do the right thing dominates many of his choices of late, and I've noticed a huge soft spot for me, to which I hope I never EVER take for granted while it lasts. How many years do I have of his tight hugs and spontaneously offered kisses? He is so young and so old at the same time. This makes my heart flip when I see him from afar.

Elliot was on the other end of the spectrum. Not a lonely child but quietly connected with the cutest group of little boys you ever saw. He is not a man of many words and does not put much effort into reaching out but he is kind and sensitive and enjoys boy conversations and funny tricks like any other boy would. Occasionly he gets brave enough to show his tough wild side. Everyone talks louder than him and he doesn't seem to mind, but I think he wishes he knew how to join groups that haven't discovered his offerings yet. He still begs to be tucked in every night and is scared of the dark. And unfortunately that kids' fluterring eyelashes and big sparkly eyes can make me do anything he asks, even if he's been a stink. The soft spot I have for him is as tender as his own heart and he is ALWAYS the first one to help his sibling when they are sad and wants to give away anything he has ever own if he senses a need. That kid. Oh I love that kid.

Flora is in a league of her own. I remember so clearly the feeling of every dream of mine coming true when she was born and she has not let us down... nor let us breathe a single breath of our own since that day. She dominates every scene, every demand, every moment of my life unless she's sleeping (which is why she is still requred a full two-hour daily nap). She drives us all batty with her demands, which is why she is nick-named our Little Wedge--no one can get a hug, read a book, eat a snack, or have a private moment without her squeezing her self in the middle and demaning a piece of whatever we have or are doing. Although, she loves doing dishes, coloring, cooking, cleaning and pretty much anything the boys never really like to do. It's amazing how different they come into this world and she is a bright spot in all of our days with her smile and spunk. I can't live with her and I can't live without her--it's a good situation.

Juniper. Oh, Juni. I could write a sonnet every day for the rest of my life and never touch the tip of the iceberg of my love (obsession really) for that baby. If ever I have a spare moment, I relish in the time I get to spend playing with her. I could waste hours trying to get her to laugh and smile, which is not all that difficult. She is happy. She is fat. She is easy to please. She naps awesome. She hates getting her diaper changed, which after four babies, it's cuter than it is annoying. She bites me when I nurse her and laughs, and then after I cry I laugh too. She is so fat she can't crawl beyond a snails pace. She eats anything and everything. She loves to burry her face in my body. Can you say favorite child? She is happiness and pure joy rolled in a coating a bliss and sprinkled with so much sweetness I could chew on her forever. How's that for sappy? I figure if she's my last baby, I am allowed to love her guts harder than is healthy. That's my job and I know all too well the Wonder Years are numbered and fading WAY too fast.

Rod is dilligently looking for a job and come the first of February it will have been four months that we have somehow survived without stable income. The only way I can describe our existence is by miracles and more miracles. We have been lifted, supported, inpsired and encouraged by loving family and friends and this is how we have recognized the hand of God in our lives. This opportunity to feel love and grattitude at the degree we consistently do for others these last few months, is not only humbling but incredibly rewarding. It has given us experiences that we will benefit from for the rest of our lives and hopefully go on to pass that flame when we are able. I know there are more miracles waiting for us and I hope we can do them justice. I am learning to praise God in the form of being an instrument to serve, as others have done for us.

Thanksgiving in Winters Paradise

We were able to sneak away for almost a week to sunny Arizona for Thanksgiving and it was so nice, thanks be to my parents. [sigh] Although it hasn't really been all that cold here yet, the eighty-degree-sunshiny days did our bodies good (I think a few of us even came home with sun tan lines!).

I could kick myself for not taking more pictures but my mind was a tad preoccupied with fact that Milo was really feeling awful (fevers and asthmatic breathing) and that we were sort of crashing my Dad and Sue's party in a beautiful little home they found to stay at in Foutain Hills. P.S. If I were to move to that valley, that's where I'd want to live!

We started Thanksgiving day off with a run around the beautiful little lake/fountain/park that is central to the town and watched the cute parade.

Loved the Jazzercisers of course!

  Can't beat the marching band!

This beautiful park centers around a 562 foot high fountain that is lit up at night.

Part of the delicious spread over at my uncles house in Queen Creek. 



  Eli, no doubt, listening to another one of Milo's big ideas.

 

Flora wishing the pool was heated.

 

 Grandma Sue soaking up the sun, as usual.

Our dinner group (more like Linner?) was a small crowd that grew as the night went on. It is always so delightful to catch up with cousins that we so rarely now that we are all adults with our own busy lives. Some great chats, Rook games, and of course eating. 

At least someone enjoyed herself some relaxing baths on her vacation.

 

My parents were good sports and took us on a hike around Saguaro Lake. When I say hike, I mean our kids allowed us to walk partially around the perimeter of the lake until they decided they didn't want to walk anymore or until exploring in the cacti wasn't as fun as they'd hoped. Milo was a good sport and even though he could hardly breathe from his bronchitis, he tried to keep up without complaining.

 

 My squishy face Jujyfruit and her generous daddy.

Eli made a point to give the boys something to remember him by with a few classic home-made  Bluth-style slingshots. But it was obvious which two really got the most enjoyment out of them.

My dad and Sue never cease to spoil us with the opportunity of fun adventures and good memories together.

Even though I don't consider myself an Arizonian, whenever I return I am reminded of the scents and scene's that fill in the holes of my memory up until the age of eight (which is crazy to think that is Milo's age!). After walking around the neighborhood, every plant (that is so foreign to the Utah climate!) held a particular space in my memory as a young child. It's funny to think that I was probably really curious about plants and nature even at that young age.

 

I made indian weapons with these.

I plucked out each individual blossom on these and counted the yellows verses the red.

I used to pull these out and suck out the nectar on the inside. P.S. Find the bee.

If you can get past they nasty stickers, these are nice and gooy on the inside.

These felt like paper to me and I always checked to make sure they were real.

More weapons with these attached to popsicle sticks.

 

The beautiful neighborhood we stayed in at Fountain Hills.

 

This kid is always creating something. It makes my heart squeeze.

A generous birthday bbq by my dad and Sue for Eli on the back porch with a gorgeous, peaceful, warm, wild view of AZ's amazing sunset was the perfect ending to our week in Winter's Paradise. (just don't ask me to visit in July, ok?)

Eli is really really awesome with my kids and they adore him to pieces. It was so nice to be with him, as it always is.

This is the only picture I have of the 4-generation Bluth Reunion in Queen Creek (stolen off Facebook). My Grandpa will turn ninety years old in less than two weeks and he has two more siblings living out of the eight children in his immediate family. I'm sure this isn't even a third of us (most of these people are Arizona residents) but I am so proud to come from a family with such an amazing heritage that makes a priority to strengthen family bonds. The day was short and sweet but I  experienced a few really meaningful moments. One of them being when my sweet Grandpa sat next to his sister, Flossie, for the first time in probably a long while (years?) and with tears in his eyes embraced her with a long squeeze. The relationships I have with my own siblings are among my lifes greatest blessings.

Not pictured: A really great half-day reunion with my long-time friend, Melissa. I was a tad younger than her but we grew up skipping barefoot (ok more like mad-dashing in the AZ heat) to each others' houses when I was in pre-school/early elementary school. She is the very definition of a friend. Not only do we have a lot of history together, but she is really funny/witty, sings like an angel (and plays multiple instruments), has a super cute family, listens to all my ramblings (and still has uplifting things to say) and maybe most importantly is really fun to be around. It sure would be nice if we could get together more often. I always feel spoiled with the time she makes to be with me.


Also not pictured: A few hours with Rod's Uncle Mark and his wife Aunt Nancy and their two kids Blake and Lexi. His grandmother also came over to visit for a bit and we had a nice chat. Maybe I'm 72 inside, but I really do enjoy the time family makes to connect with each other and share a little taste of their lives with us. It is enriching and strengthens my belief in families. I left feeling so grateful they had made time for our visit and for their amazing examples.