On Value

At small group we've been talking about our stories--about the things and the people who have defined who we are.  Favorite and I laughed because we've become those people who talk about their children incessantly.  My Instagram feed is all kids all the time, and I've found myself fitting Ryan and/or Eli into every conversation I can.

Maybe most new parents can relate to that sentiment.  I'm just not sure I'm ever going to get over the wonder of being a mom--in large part because that wasn't supposed to happen.  Maybe it's weird to keep defining myself with loss and infertility in mind, but those experiences color the way I see my current reality.  They changed the way I approached Christ and the way I interact with others.

That said, I do not believe those experiences mean I value motherhood more than the woman who got pregnant very quickly and birthed a healthy child with no complications.  My experience colors my interactions--not the way I see yours.  Stick with me here because I'm going to try to share these thoughts as diplomatically as possible starting with my own experience:  I do not believe my experience is more spiritually significant than someone else's.  And I'm tired of people who seem to believe otherwise.

As a member of the Christian community, I believe in the idea that life is precious, but I refuse to promote the notion that one life is more precious than another.  It stands to reason that I would be offended by people who imply that adoption would've been far more laudable than giving birth to Ryan--and not because I fought tooth and nail for that pregnancy.  It's offensive because it implies one life or action deserves to be honored above another.  That one sacrifice matters and another does not.

One thing I would often repeat to myself on days I was really struggling is a quote from John Donne:  "Other men's crosses are not my crosses."  It wasn't just a reminder that we struggle differently; it was a reminder that my struggle may lead to a different outcome than someone else's.  My situation definitely helps me keep things in perspective on the days I have two very fussy boys, but I would never Jesus Juke another Mommy with that information.  (You know, when people say things like, "You should really appreciate what you have because some people can't have it."  Or another variation of that statement.  Or imply some people would/have paid an arm and a leg for the same privilege, blah blah blah.)

For the life of me, I cannot understand why we attach value to human beings because of how/when/why they came to be in our lives.  Ryan and Eli have value to me because they are mine--regardless of how they came to be in my life.  But their real value comes from the fact that Christ loved them first--before they were born or imagined in my heart.  That's where all value originates.  Not in our experiences (difficult or easy, expensive or cheap) but in the heart of a Saviour to gave Himself for us before we were even in existence.  

Ryan--Four Months

Ryan,

You are four months old!  A few days ago, I had the privilege to hold newborn babies and I couldn't believe that four short months would make such a big difference.  I've discovered that a Mommy's heart is always broken in half--one half mourns what is gone and the other half celebrates what is and what's to come.  So while I miss the teeny baby you were, Daddy and I are really enjoying seeing your little personality.

You weigh 16.19 lbs (66.22%) and are 24.5 inches tall (21.28%--still short!).  Your head circumference is 42.5 cm (76.44%) continuing the family tradition of big heads!  (Your cousin, Matti, was always in the 99%!)

You consistently take 6 ounces at every feeding (about five times a day), and you are wearing 3-6 month (and some 6 month) clothes.

You are constantly drooling, and you will chew on anything anyone gives you.  (Gwandma thought it was pretty funny you went for her coffee with such passion.  More proof you belong to us.) You also like sitting in your Bumbo.  I think you like the independence, but you sure do let me know when you're finished.

Every morning, you eat your bottle and then I lay you down on the chair and we sing.  You really love music.  In fact, you get really quiet and listen when I sing to you and we've learned that you generally won't take a bottle during worship at church because you can't pay as much attention to Mal and 'Mane (our worship ministers).  Your current favorites are "One Thing Remains," "Our God is Able," and "The God of Angel Armies."

While I'm singing, you usually play with your feet.  You love them.  You pull them up to play pretty well any time we lay you down, and you get super fascinated if we put shoes on you.  I found a pair of house-shoe type booties when I was cleaning out your closet and you wouldn't look away from your feet most of the day.

You are pretty good natured--mornings are your best time.  It's usually fairly easy to calm you down; however, when you do decide to melt down?  EPIC.  You can scream at the top of your lungs for an indefinite amount of time.  Typically, that happens at night when you've refused to nap.

Frankly, you're not much of a napper.  I can generally get you to take a morning nap in your swing and sometimes you take an afternoon nap--a couple of times you've napped for two hours in your swing--but you mostly catnap here and there.  If you are in your swing, you have to have your fuzzy blanket and you always pull it over your face to snooze.  I can always tell when you're tired because you rub your eyes, and you've even been known to fall asleep sitting up.

You sleep in your crib now.  In general, we put you down around 8:30 and you sleep until 7:00 or 7:30 the next morning.  Sometimes Daddy and I listen to you on the monitor and you talk yourself back to sleep.

We've found that if you're really fussy, we can take you outside and you will calm down almost immediately.  You are especially fond of porch swings, but any sort of outside adventure will work for you.

You really love the water right now.  You would prefer the pool water to be the same temperature as your bath water.  You do love baths, too.  Daddy says we'll have to move you to the big tub soon because you splash all the water out on the counter top.

You have rolled from your front to your back once, but you really despise being laid down.  We tried to work on rolling, and it always ended with horrible facial expressions and tears.  Frankly, you would rather sit up or practice standing.  You're awfully close to sitting up all by yourself, and I've started believing you'll probably walk before you try to roll over consistently.

I love your facial expressions, and the sound of your giggling is the best thing I've ever heard in my life.  You are pretty greedy with the giggles.  People have to work for them, and even then you're fairly selective.  Sometimes you will laugh when we laugh, but you spend more time observing everything going on around you.

You're a pretty chatty little guy.  You make all sorts of noises and you "talk" to the people you're observing--especially in busy places (like the mall).

We cloth diaper almost exclusively (except when we travel), and you do well with those.  Diaper changes are hard because you are forever pulling your feet up so you can play.

Yesterday you ate with a spoon for the first time.  You had rice cereal on your face.  In your hair.  On your hands.  In your eyelashes.  Up your nose.  It was pretty well ev.ery.wh.ere.  You got a bath promptly after.

While I'm sad to see your baby days passing so quickly, I'm so enjoying giggles and talking that it's hard to be too sad.  Pretty soon we'll be writing about walking and solid food!

You've changed my life, baby boy.  I'm pretty sure my heart will never be the same.

I'll love you forever; I'll like you for always.

Mommy

Oh God How I Need You

Ryan loves it when I sing to him.  I think it has something to do with all the interaction and the fluctuation of my voice; he really pays attention and smiles as he watches my face. 

He's been exposed to a hundred different things--"She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain," "Camptown Races," "I've Been Workin' on the Railroad," "The Blues Man," "This Girl is on Fire," etc.  Sometimes Favorite makes up songs about what Ryan is doing that day so we have a lot of songs that revolve around taking a nap, pooping in our pants and taking a bottle.

When it's just me and Ryan, though, I sing praise choruses.  When he was hours old in the hospital, I walked around our room singing "I Will Rise" while I waited for him to close his eyes.  When I buckle him in the carseat, we sing "One Thing Remains" because it gets a sweet smile instead of a fit.  When I cuddle him at night, I sometimes sing pieces of Nichole Nordeman's "I Am," or "I Need You."  (Lately, I've been introducing him to "We Build.")

Those are the songs I know--the ones I love--but they are also the legacy I want to leave for him.

During our worship services, I hold Ryan and sing quietly in his ear.  Often I pray he hears those lyrics and my voice in his head long after I'm incapable of holding him during a service.  I want God's love and constancy to be carved on his heart, so I'm forever singing and re-singing "Your love never fails/ It never gives up/ Never runs out on me."

I don't know that I could explain to him how deeply I believe those words.

In the not-so-distant past, I can remember sitting on my couch with little but a glass of wine and my sobs to keep me company.  Favorite was at work and my heartbreak settled in for an extended stay when I was alone.  Most of those sessions resulted in me hugging my knees to my chest and repeating the only thing I knew to be true:  Jesus.

Flowery prayer sessions and perfect poetry were worthless then.  Prayer was little more than the name I knew and believed.  I remembered that today when I was feeding Ryan and quietly singing, "I need You.  Oh, I need You.  Every hour I need You.  My one defense, my righteousness, Oh, God, how I need You."

It's funny that in my last three months of complete joy (and chaos--lots and lots of chaos), I hadn't thought about the three thousand prayers of almost wordless desperation that proceeded it.  I'm so grateful for what I've been given, but I don't want to forget the deep sense of neediness draws my heart to whisper to the only One who is capable of providing rest.

Brokenness isn't our problem.  Sometimes I think the issue is we'd rather stay in the desert than see the land we've been promised because we don't want to openly admit we're needy.

I'm praying that on my church family--neediness.  And on my son.

I think it's the only way we'll survive. 

Two Months--Ryan Christopher

In the three seconds since my kid has been born, he's managed to turn two months old.  I'm not entirely sure how it happened so fast, but I know it appears that bear is shrinking.  Proof?

(I just now figured out it would be a good idea to put him in a white onesie for his month pictures.  Oh, and the bear is wearing a diaper because Favorite had to "practice" before Ryan got here.)

At his two month appointment, Ryan weighed 12 lbs 0.13 oz and was 22 1/2 inches long.  We like to joke and call him Jabba the Baby, but he's truthfully only in the 54th percentile for weight (and the 32nd percentile for height--poor baby is going to be like his parents).  On the other hand, his head was 39 1/2 centimeters--the 70th percentile.  (That information is just for you, Uncle BigBro.)

He's been sleeping through the night since he was about five weeks old.  That information was enough for several of my friends at work to call me a dirty whore out of jealousy :)  Typically, he goes down around 8:30 pm and sleeps until 6 am.  There is an occasional morning he wakes up at 4 am, takes a bottle and goes back down until 7 am, but those mornings are rare so I try not to complain.

Big Yawn

Naps, though?  Naps are a different story.  He sleeps just fine in the car, but he will argue endlessly with me when I put him down for a nap at home.  I'm working through the BabyWise sleep methods to teach him to nap.  Thankfully, it's been pretty successful.

And speaking of BabyWise, that book and the Moms On Call app for the iPhone have been awesome.  I highly recommend both for new Mommies.  Initially, Favorite and I were having a difficult time determining how much he should eat at each feeding because, from time to time, he would cry after finishing a feeing.  Based on the recommendation from Moms on Call, he takes about five ounces at each feeding now.  (That amount is a rough estimate due to nursing.  I have to supplement his feedings with formula, too.  Thankfully, he transitions from breast to bottle with no issues whatsoever.)  It's also been helpful to determine how many hours we should wait between each feeding.  Right now, he goes 3-3.5 hours.

He is not really a fan of his binky.  We do offer it and occasionally he will suck on it to soothe himself.  For example, he gets one when I lay him down at night.  He'll suck on it until he's calm, but he spits it out before he goes to sleep.  And if he's mad?  Good luck trying to keep it in his mouth.

Lately, he's really been talking to us.  He coos and smiles and mimics the faces we make.  He loves attention--especially from Num-NumTheWonderChild.  He smiles at her every time he sees her.  But he's also a fan of his Daddy and his Grandparents.

That Daddy is just hilarious.

Favorite and I took Ryan swimming for the first time on our 10 year anniversary trip.

Ten seconds after this picture?  He filled that swim diaper to capacity.

He loved it so I'm pretty sure he's going to be a water-baby.  (On a side note, can you see how much that child looks like his Daddy?)

Since we were visiting the zoo, we thought the trip wouldn't be complete without this picture:

The Ryno and a real rhino

Ryan is wearing size 1 diapers which means he is one snap out on the waist of the cloth diapers.  We are cloth diapering almost exclusively now; however, we don't travel with them.  Disposables are too convenient for a trip out of town. 

We started with the BumGenius Elementals.  (I'm only going to use AIOs because I have no desire to spend time stuffing diapers.)  Several bloggers commented that these diapers were excellent, and my experience with them has been really great so far.  My one complaint is that they take FOREVER to dry.  Because of that, we gave the BumGenius Freetime a shot.  I actually prefer them because they dry so much faster, but I know a few people are probably more partial to organic cotton over microfiber.  Oh, and any person interested in cloth diapering should invest in a diaper sprayer.

(And for those interested:  we currently have 18 diapers in the rotation--6 Elementals and 12 Freetimes.  You can definitely get by with 12, but 18 guarantees I'm not doing laundry every day and I have at least 4 clean and dry diapers on hand at any given time.)

Favorite is even a fan of the cloth diapers.  Overall, they should save us around $1500 for Ryan and even more if he has siblings.  Not too shabby, eh?



 

Look at those bright eyes.  If things keep progressing at this rate, I'll be posting pictures of his Senior Prom next week.  How did he get so big so fast?

Ryan's Birth Story: Part 3 (The Final Frontier)

Part 1

Part 2

I specifically waited until Grandma had left the room and Daddy was sleeping to have my break down.  I didn't want to add stress to an already stressful situation, but those hot tears and sobs needed to be spent before I completely imploded.

I didn't really expect crying to help; I was just fighting frustration.  After an almost perfect pregnancy, I found myself without much faith that my body was capable of doing something that came naturally to many women.  I could almost taste the c-section that would be required, and, to be honest, I was afraid.

I wasn't two minutes into my tear fest when my replacement nurse came in to check the monitors and had her own panic attack.  She was sure something was really wrong.  Unfortunately, Grandma chose that exact moment to return to the room. 

The nurse was scared.  Grandma thought the nurse made me cry. 

And here is where you get a few notes about Grandma.  Before you were born, Grandma was a social worker with the Department of Health and Human services.  She regularly dealt with insurance companies and often had the privilege of dealing with people who were less than forthcoming with information.

Because of this background, Grandma developed what your uncles and I like to call Mom personality #1 and Mom personality #2.

#1=An extremely naive woman who is non-confrontational and usually in a good mood.

#2=You know how National Geographic says more people are killed every year by angry hippos than any other animal?  Well, your Grandma can channel her own angry hippo.  And it ain't pretty.

Typically, Angry Hippo is reserved for insurance companies and lazy people; however, in the 5 nanoseconds that passed between your Grandma coming back into the room, registering my tears and turning to my nurse, I saw that Angry Hippo had swallowed whatever part of Mom Personality #1 had been present.

For the rest of the day, your Grandma (who I learned is extremely agile and protective) hawk-eyed every.single.procedure.  And while I never would've described her as a terrifying woman, I certainly wasn't going to poke the bear.  My nurse must have sensed the change in atmosphere because she was pretty low-key for the rest of her shift.

Around 9 am, Dr. S came in to check the progress of our through-the-night-Pitocin-gamble.  We were all frustrated to learn I had only dilated to 2.5 centimeters.  Dr. S scratched her head and said, "Well, I'm inclined to suggest we break your water and see what happens from there.  Though, we can take you for a c-section if you'd rather."

I explained that I really wanted to avoid a c-section, and she responded, "I really think your body can do this, and we have some time.  Let's break your water and see what happens."

Now I had read three different pregnancy books in the last nine months.  Not one of them indicated what would happen if the doctor broke my water.  So if you are ever planning to get pregnant ever (your wife, I mean), read carefully:

As soon as the doctor breaks your water, every muscle in your body is going to relocate to your uterus and spasm like you've been running from some crazed man trying to kill you.  Truthfully, though, it's just your uterus trying to kill you.  No worries.

For those of you who have never experienced a contraction, imagine some invisible force has reached inside your body and gripped your uterus.  Then, in order maximize your pain, the force grows tentacles and wraps them around every available muscle in the tri-state area.

Thankfully, I reacted with the strength and grace that begets my personality.  In other words?  I panicked.  Panicking is my spiritual gift, you know...or you'll learn sometime before you turn 18.

I don't mean to blow things out of proportion here because once I got my bearings and could focus on breathing, the contractions were manageable.  But that first one?  I just wasn't prepared.  Call it a theme in this story.

My day nurse, Megan, said the average dilation activity after a woman's water breaks is a centimeter an hour.  But us?  We spit in the face of average.  So when I still refused to dilate much in the hours following my water breaking, my doctor began discussing the options. 

And by options?  I mean our lack of them. 

But you know us.  Dad and I definitely reveled in the hilarious before those decisions were made.

When I'd labored for several hours, my nurse asked if I was ready for some pain medication.  I wasn't quite ready for the epidural, but I was tired enough to need something to take the edge off of each contraction--mostly because in order to manage them I needed to sit straight up, propping myself on my arms with the soles of my feet touching.  I was tense and there was no way of knowing how much longer it would take before I got to look at your sweet face.

So my nurse brought me Stadol.

As soon as the drug hit my IV, I learned that it is possible to hallucinate while maintaining a firm grasp of reality.  Any time I closed my eyes, I felt like I was being transported to an alternate reality.  Everything looked as real as it did if my eyes were open, but I knew it couldn't be real.  For example, there was a squirrel who kept pulling on my underwear.  When I opened my eyes, I could still feel that stupid squirrel pulling on my underwear, but I also knew, laboring like I was, that I wasn't wearing underwear.

For a full report of all the hilarious things I saw, you'll have to contact Grandma.  She wrote it down, blessed soul that she is.

Most of the day felt 15 minutes long to me--mostly because it was tedious.  There was little change until late into the evening when I finally started to dilate.  My body, trying to make up for lost time, seemed to dilate three centimeters at a time.  And that was really promising.

Until my temperature spiked.

For some unknown reason, I developed a 102.4 degree fever and that was a definite cause for concern.  We didn't know what was causing the fever and any sort of infection would impact you negatively.  Immediately, the doctor started pushing antibiotics and discussing a C-section.  She told me we had a limited amount of time before this situation was serious, and then left Daddy and I to talk.

Something far worse than contractions grabbed me after that conversation.  Daddy and I both cried and tried to figure out what we should do before God reminded me of my word for the year:  peace.  So with little recourse, and no ability to make an informed decision, we called PastorJosh and asked for prayer.

It was around 10:30 in the evening and most of the people in the waiting room were clearing out and heading home in hopes of getting some sleep before returning to meet you.  A few minutes after that call, many of those same people returned to that waiting room to pray for us...for you.  Even more received a call or text from PastorJosh and got out of bed (even though Easter Sunday was the very next day) to pray until we were holding you in our arms.

Thirty minutes later?  I was pushing.

Our first meeting, Baby Boy.

Nurses warned us that first time mommies can push for hours before a birth occurs.  I smiled and told my nurse you were going to be born today.  Since it was after 11 pm, my nurse smiled and nodded, but she didn't look convinced.

Daddy snapped all sorts of pictures.  You were perfect even
directly after birth.  Most babies aren't cute at this stage.

Forty minutes later, at 11:46 pm, you were here.

Ryan Christopher
March 30th, 2013
8 lbs, 0.8 oz.
22 inches

People think I'm weird when I say this, but the actual birthing experience was one of the best experiences of my life.  By the time I was pushing, I was so excited to hold you.  The nurse commented she'd never seen anyone smile while pushing (and it was freaking her out a little).  But I couldn't help myself.  I grinned the entire time.  The doctor told funny stories.  We laughed like family.

And partially, I think that's how it was meant to be.

Peaceful.  Hopeful.  And the complete fulfillment of what I'd waited 8 years for.

Total, it took 97 months to meet you.

And every single second was worth it.

So many people have waited for you.

And loved you.

This is just the beginning of your story, Ryan.

I think there's probably a lot of laughter to come.  (Including a few hilarious stories about Daddy and putting your stroller in the car for the first time...)

And I'm so excited to tell every single one until you can tell your own.

I'll love you forever; I'll like you for always.

Mommy