My Darling Children,
All children are special. It's true. And in my biased opinion, you three are more special than all of them. But in my un-biased opinion... you are extra special because you have loved me through more.
Every parent has flaws and difficult circumstances that they have to work through. That is just life.
But I want to thank you, my Loves. Because you have loved me through depression and anxiety. When mommy is so deeply sad that it hurts way back in my heart, and I don't know why... and tears fall down my face.... you put your pudgy hand in mine and don't say anything, you're just there with me. When the anxiety overwhelms me and I over-react and yell at you, and you strongly stand your ground... I am proud of you; You respectfully remind me that you are a person too and I need to get control of myself. When my body aches from the severe depression and I'm a "potato", and I can't get down on the floor to play with you... you courageously play alone, or use your creativity to think up something we can play while I don't feel well. Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck in a kaleidoscope with music that is turned up too loud while wearing a straight jacket; you see me shut my eyes tight and plug my ears to try to ground myself.... then you grab my hand and say "I want to play hide-and-seek too!" ..... Or when I feel purposeless, and I'm desperately trying to look for the Light and grab onto it, you remind me that you need me... you want me. I am the only mommy that will do; You remind me that God trusted me with you three and knew that I am the best mommy for you.
You give me courage to keep going, laughter to sooth my scarred heart, and hugs to hold on to.
I will keep growing. I will keep fighting. You are worth it.
Words can't describe how proud I am of you: Ian, my confident boy; Andrew, my compassionate one; Ivy, my piece of joy.
I love you a bushel and a peck,
Mommy
Monday, February 29, 2016
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Prejudice & Preconceived Notions
Valentine's Day 2016. Let me set the scene:
My husband and I went to downtown Tulsa to eat dinner with our church small group. We parked about a mile away from the restaurant since we really didn't want to pay $5-$10 for sketchy parking and since we were there really early and wanted to walk in the abnormally gorgeous weather. There was plenty of daylight to get there and back safely. On the walk there, people were very friendly and kind! Homeless people (there were a lot of them) were telling us "happy valentine's day" and "God Bless You". It was a pleasant walk that restored some of my hope in humanity. I mean, after all... these people had nothing and we were walking in our nice clothes and shoes to eat a nice dinner, and they were the ones waving and smiling first!
On our way home, dusk was approaching, but we still had time to get back safely to our car. The people we came across were still kind but there were many more asking for cash or cigarettes... but they were still kind about it.
At one cross walk, about 2 streets away from our car (parked at Quick Trip), we waited at the cross walk for it to signal that it was safe to walk. When the signal changed, we headed across, and the man on the opposite side started heading the direction we had come from. As we had done with everyone else, we kindly smiled and nodded a passing greeting (this is a typical Oklahoman procedure) as we passed in the middle of the cross walk. As we were stepping up to the opposite curb, this man whipped back around and stomped up to us. He was mumbling something and we assumed he was going to ask us for money or something. He threw his backpack down on the ground and warning bells started going off in my head. He slid his hands into his pockets and got up in my husband's face. #terrifying! I continued to walk (not too fast, but I also didn't want to walk back towards my husband so the guy didn't feel threatened or ganged up on) but Jeff, ever calm, said "Hey man, what's wrong?" This man, still mumbling around, suddenly shouted, hands still in his pockets (which Jeff was watching very closely), still in Jeff's face "I said, Is your comfort good enough!?"
I did not hear all this since I was too busy inwardly panicking. Adrenaline had kicked in and as I continued walking (I wanted to run!) and praying for God's presence and protection, I inconspicuously reached into my purse, got out my phone, and dialed 911... my finger hovering over the green button.
My husband, gifted with peacefulness and patience replied calmly to this angry man, "Hey man, we'll go our way; you go yours." Thankfully, he took the advice.
And that was it. The whole thing was maybe 1 minute long. I thought we were dead. This was a situation I had never encountered. Nor do I want to again! I'm so thankful my little ones were not with us!
I really don't know if this man was upset because we had nice things and he didn't...or if it was a racial prejudism. Maybe he thought that we as white Americans thought less of him because he was African-American? Perhaps it was a combination of all of these assumptions.
That man didn't know that we hold no prejudist thoughts or actions towards anyone of a different race; he didn't know that Jeff and I actually have a tight income and the clothes we were wearing were clearance items that we had bought with gift cards and hard earned babysitting money. He didn't know that my husband himself is a card-holding Native American, a race who has also faced racial prejudice. He assumed. He lumped us in with the others.
And for the first time in my life, I understood. I understood the racism that African-Americans, or anyone else of a different race has gone through in history. While I've always been sympathetic, I couldn't truly know how painful it is to have someone be purposefully mean and threatening to you, simply because of your skin color and how you're dressed. I can't even begin to fathom the pain if my children had been a target as well.
One of the things about this experience that I love is that I saw my husband show his strength like never before. He could have picked a fight. He could have said things to this man to "return the favor". He could have tried to correct him. He could have cowered in fear.
But instead, he stood his ground with respect and said something to quickly diffuse the situation. (Thank the Lord for his military training and personality).
That evening, as we do every evening before bed... we prayed. We thanked God for His protection over us. And then we prayed for our enemy. We prayed that that man would be shown the love and forgiveness of Jesus, the restoration that can be his if he will give his life to Christ. And we prayed for all of the different organizations in the area that could help him, that he would find them and get the help he needs. We also prayed that if he chooses to continue with those same hateful actions, that the people he encounters would be protected and that someone can get him off of the street so that innocent people are not hurt by him.
It saddened me that this man chose hate to "protect" his race, his pride. Love is what protects.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres ~1 Corinthians 13:4-7~
Fools give full vent to their rage, but the wise bring calm in the end ~Proverbs 29:11~
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” ~John 13:34 &35~
But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you ~Matthew 5:44~
My husband and I went to downtown Tulsa to eat dinner with our church small group. We parked about a mile away from the restaurant since we really didn't want to pay $5-$10 for sketchy parking and since we were there really early and wanted to walk in the abnormally gorgeous weather. There was plenty of daylight to get there and back safely. On the walk there, people were very friendly and kind! Homeless people (there were a lot of them) were telling us "happy valentine's day" and "God Bless You". It was a pleasant walk that restored some of my hope in humanity. I mean, after all... these people had nothing and we were walking in our nice clothes and shoes to eat a nice dinner, and they were the ones waving and smiling first!
On our way home, dusk was approaching, but we still had time to get back safely to our car. The people we came across were still kind but there were many more asking for cash or cigarettes... but they were still kind about it.
At one cross walk, about 2 streets away from our car (parked at Quick Trip), we waited at the cross walk for it to signal that it was safe to walk. When the signal changed, we headed across, and the man on the opposite side started heading the direction we had come from. As we had done with everyone else, we kindly smiled and nodded a passing greeting (this is a typical Oklahoman procedure) as we passed in the middle of the cross walk. As we were stepping up to the opposite curb, this man whipped back around and stomped up to us. He was mumbling something and we assumed he was going to ask us for money or something. He threw his backpack down on the ground and warning bells started going off in my head. He slid his hands into his pockets and got up in my husband's face. #terrifying! I continued to walk (not too fast, but I also didn't want to walk back towards my husband so the guy didn't feel threatened or ganged up on) but Jeff, ever calm, said "Hey man, what's wrong?" This man, still mumbling around, suddenly shouted, hands still in his pockets (which Jeff was watching very closely), still in Jeff's face "I said, Is your comfort good enough!?"
I did not hear all this since I was too busy inwardly panicking. Adrenaline had kicked in and as I continued walking (I wanted to run!) and praying for God's presence and protection, I inconspicuously reached into my purse, got out my phone, and dialed 911... my finger hovering over the green button.
My husband, gifted with peacefulness and patience replied calmly to this angry man, "Hey man, we'll go our way; you go yours." Thankfully, he took the advice.
And that was it. The whole thing was maybe 1 minute long. I thought we were dead. This was a situation I had never encountered. Nor do I want to again! I'm so thankful my little ones were not with us!
I really don't know if this man was upset because we had nice things and he didn't...or if it was a racial prejudism. Maybe he thought that we as white Americans thought less of him because he was African-American? Perhaps it was a combination of all of these assumptions.
That man didn't know that we hold no prejudist thoughts or actions towards anyone of a different race; he didn't know that Jeff and I actually have a tight income and the clothes we were wearing were clearance items that we had bought with gift cards and hard earned babysitting money. He didn't know that my husband himself is a card-holding Native American, a race who has also faced racial prejudice. He assumed. He lumped us in with the others.
And for the first time in my life, I understood. I understood the racism that African-Americans, or anyone else of a different race has gone through in history. While I've always been sympathetic, I couldn't truly know how painful it is to have someone be purposefully mean and threatening to you, simply because of your skin color and how you're dressed. I can't even begin to fathom the pain if my children had been a target as well.
One of the things about this experience that I love is that I saw my husband show his strength like never before. He could have picked a fight. He could have said things to this man to "return the favor". He could have tried to correct him. He could have cowered in fear.
But instead, he stood his ground with respect and said something to quickly diffuse the situation. (Thank the Lord for his military training and personality).
That evening, as we do every evening before bed... we prayed. We thanked God for His protection over us. And then we prayed for our enemy. We prayed that that man would be shown the love and forgiveness of Jesus, the restoration that can be his if he will give his life to Christ. And we prayed for all of the different organizations in the area that could help him, that he would find them and get the help he needs. We also prayed that if he chooses to continue with those same hateful actions, that the people he encounters would be protected and that someone can get him off of the street so that innocent people are not hurt by him.
It saddened me that this man chose hate to "protect" his race, his pride. Love is what protects.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres ~1 Corinthians 13:4-7~
Fools give full vent to their rage, but the wise bring calm in the end ~Proverbs 29:11~
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” ~John 13:34 &35~
But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you ~Matthew 5:44~
As we finished our walk back to the car, me shaking almost uncontrollably, Jeff grinning because he felt like a manly man who'd protected his woman... I looked at Jeff and said "Next time, let's just pay the freaking $5 for parking!"
I'm so glad God showed us a different aspect of love on Valentine's Day.
Monday, January 11, 2016
Choose Your Thoughts
Finally, brothers and sisters,
whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable- if anything is excellent or
praiseworthy- think about such things. Philippians 4:8
TRUE: 1. in accordance with fact or reality. 2. Accurate or
exact. 3. Loyal or faithful. 4. Honest.
NOBLE: having fine personal qualities or high moral
principles.
RIGHT: morally good, justified, or acceptable.
PURE: wholesome and untainted by immorality.
LOVELY: very beautiful or attractive. Very pleasant or
enjoyable; delightful.
ADMIRABLE: arousing or deserving respect and approval.
EXCELLENT: extremely
good; outstanding.
PRAISEWORTHY: deserving approval and admiration.
Satan, as our adversary, is AGAINST everything that God
stands for and is. He is the opposite. And he wants us to think opposite of how
God thinks.
The thief comes only to kill, steal and destroy; I have come that they
may have life, and have it to the full. John
10:10
God sent His son, Jesus, to take on each of our sins. We
deserved death. But Jesus took that for us… and not only did he take it but he
defeated Death by rising again. Because of his sacrifice and victory, we can be
made NEW. We can choose Death or Life in our soul…. And this includes our
thought life!
Have your thoughts been life giving? Or have you been
allowing Satan to feed you things that kill you, that steal JOY and PEACE from
you, that destroy your ability to show God’s love to others?
You can choose. It’s difficult to choose this…. Especially
when hormones and chemical imbalances are at play as well. But it is a choice.
Let’s write down some things that God has given us that are excellent and
praiseworthy according to Philippians 4:8! What about your children is lovely?
What about you is true? What relationships do you have that are right? Let’s
focus on these things this week and CHOOSE to speak them out loud when we feel
ourselves unraveling.
Saturday, December 19, 2015
A Favorite Christmas Memory
When I was probably 5 or 6, my mom and I were out Christmas shopping and she found this really pretty collectible doll that had a wind-up thing on it that played a song and the little doll would rock back and forth to the music. "Mommy, is that going to be my present!?" "No I'm buying this for me for Christmas!" she said. That was so confusing to me. You can't buy a present for yourself because then you wouldn't be surprised on Christmas morning when you open it! That Christmas, my mom wrapped up her doll in pretty wrapping paper, put it under the tree and then opened it Christmas morning.
For years, I couldn't figure out my mom's odd behavior. I would think about it every year and ponder why she did that. But now that I have had 4 Christmases as a mom, I finally understand why she did that.
She was taking care of herself.
As a mom, we give and we give and we give. We are lucky if we get a full, unrushed meal... or a shower.
So it's important for us to take care of ourselves! We can't give out anything of ourselves to our husband, our children, or others if we HAVE nothing to give out!
Reading our Bible, taking time "off" from motherhood by getting coffee with a friend, working out, or even buying a little extra something for ourselves.... find things that pour back into you, that fill you up.
This applies to everyone! While stay-at-home moms do especially struggle with having any time to themselves or having no routine change and dealing with the same people 24/7..... anyone can commit too much of their time to something. We need to be careful that we don't burn ourselves out. Because when we do that, we can't do what God is asking us to do: show love to others. If we are too overwhelmed and haven't taken time to ourselves we end up giving everyone the LAST of what we have... which is usually snippy and grumpy.
People deserve your best. Your family deserves your best. You deserve your best. God deserves your best. Make sure you take time to grow and encourage yourself,
Thanks Momma... for unknowingly teaching me that lesson all those years ago. Thank you for taking time for yourself so you could give me your best. <3
What are some things you can think of that your mother did to take care of herself in order to be able to give back to you? Comment here on the blog or on Facebook! Tag your mom or share this with her as a THANK YOU!
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Are You The Problem?
This past Sunday in church we had a guest speaker, Dino Rizzo. (Link to service attached at the end of this post) He talks about how our actions need to point to Christ, how we are a sample of Jesus to others (like the yummy samples in Sams or Costco), and how our actions need to be an invitation to others to join in a relationship with Jesus Christ. This is elementary to me, I've heard this my whole life. I KNOW this. But this weekend, during the message, God asked me a question, "Are you doing these 3 things for your children?"
While yes, I know my job is to love my children and raise them in a godly way .... and I know that I need to be an example to them of how we should treat others. I also know that how I am with them will directly effect their relationship with God...
But it just suddenly hit me. Are my actions towards them pointing their little spirits toward Jesus? Are my actions giving them a sample of Jesus' love, forgiveness, kindness, self-control...? When my kids are old enough to decide for themselves if they want a relationship with God and that they want to follow His Word, will they think back to their childhood and how they were treated by their mom and feel invited towards what she had?
Or will my children see that God acts on his anger? Will they see that God is lacking in self-control? Will they see that being in a relationship with God is a casual thing and really has no relevance in their life? That it's not something they really need?
And while I feel like I can say with confidence that they will know that I love them and that I love God and that I want them to be in a relationship with Him.... will they also feel confusion about WHO God is because of my actions? About how to be rich in good deeds (Dino Rizzo's message)? About how to treat their own children or their spouse?
If I can show kindness, patience and mercy to those outside of my home, but not to the tiny people that God has trusted me with, then I am the problem. I am what is wrong with the world.
I want to be the one the POINTS to the Solution of our messy lives. I want to be the one that shows them a SAMPLE of who God is, what He has for us here, and even what heaven is like. I want to be someone who INVITES my own children into the most amazing and beautiful relationship I have ever experienced. I want them to know the fullness of His forgiveness, His grace and mercy, His compassion and His love, just as I do.
But if I am the one, not the world, who is the problem.... what hope do they have? God trusted Jeff and I to lead these little people to Him. Trusted us to show them how go out into all the world and show that hurting and lost world the love of a Savior who died for their mistakes.
Putting these 3 things (Point, Sample, Invite) at the forefront of my mind these past few days and acting on them has helped me immensely in how I deal with the everyday things that happen around here. I will never be perfect, I won't always get it right. My children will be asked to forgive me over and over. But if they can see that I am constantly going back to Jesus, that I am constantly pointing back to Him... they will see Him and not me.
They will see HIM... and not me.
Give freely and become more wealthy; be stingy and lose everything. The generous will prosper; those who refresh others will themselves be refreshed. -Proverbs 11:24 & 25-
Parents: insert your child's name where others is at. Megan who refreshes Ian, Megan who refreshes Andrew, Megan who refreshes Ivy.... you, in return, will be refreshed. This goes for your spouse too. Even if your family believes in Jesus, why shouldn't you allow God to use you to show His love to them?
For it is by GRACE you have been saved, through faith - and this is not from yourselves, it is the GIFT of God- not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for each of us to do. -Ephesians 2:8-10
"I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the water to create many ripples." -Mother Teresa
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Little Truth Bombs
I am a parent.
I have been parented.
I am an observer of parents.
And the thing I always notice is that
children appreciate honesty. They appreciate when you explain the
truth to them. They appreciate when you tell them right from wrong. They
appreciate when you explain "why". Obviously, there are times
when a child is too young to know a whole truth simply because they are
not yet capable of understanding or grasping a concept (sex, for example, is
not an appropriate topic for a young child.). But there will come a day when
they can understand some of those deeper subjects, and at that
point... honesty is the best policy.
But even further than just honesty... I think
humbling yourself and being honest about your mistakes is one of the greatest
things you can do for your child.
My biggest downfall is my self-control. Specifically,
my ability to control my anger. Being angry is OK. But my reaction TO
my anger is my problem.
"In your anger do not sin": Do not let
the sun go down while you are still angry, -Ephesians 4:26
because human anger does not produce the righteousness
that God desires -James 1:20
I
fail daily at my reaction to anger. I throw giant fits that could rival a 2
year old. Yelling, slamming doors, and flinging objects. UHG.
And I hate myself afterwards! I feel such shame.
God definitely deals with me over it.
But most recently, I have seen my very own actions
mirrored in my 4 year old.
Ouch.
Recently, my 4 year old, Ian,
threw a huge fit over something. There was over-reacting, screaming, stomping,
angry faces, and mean words. He was disciplined for it. But then when I sat
down with him to discuss the "why"...
I looked at his angry, teary
face and I said, "Ian. Mommy needs to tell you something. I am sorry. I
have been a bad example to you. Do I throw fits sometimes? Do I yell
sometimes?"
"...yes..."
Then I asked a question that I
was a little afraid to know the answer to, "How does it make you feel when
Mommy acts like that?"
"It makes me sad."
Straight to the heart.
"Well Mommy is very wrong
when I act like that. I am sorry that it makes you sad and I am sorry I am a
bad example. Will you forgive me? Let's both work on being better when we are
angry."
Ian was surprised at the turn
our conversation took, I could tell. But I saw him go from having a frustrated
and angry face... to a face of peace. It gave him peace that I confessed my
sin, my deepest problem, to him. I trusted him with the truth of my issues. I
was honest about my downfall. I humbled myself and showed him that even mommy
makes mistakes. Even mommy has to say she's sorry. Even mommy has things to
fix. I'm glad I had that conversation with him.
Because a couple of days later,
my boys were arguing and were being very loud and I was trying to get their attention
and it just wasn't happening. So I yelled to make myself heard. Before I could
go on, my new accountability partner says, "Mommy... remember, we are
supposed to be kind."
What if I would have saved my
pride and NOT had that conversation with my 4 year old? I would've been a
hypocrite, first off. Second, he and I both would've missed a growing
opportunity. And third, I wouldn't have been reminded at a later point that we
are supposed to be kind.
Parents don't give their kids
enough credit. Kids are little truth bombs. They like to point out the truth
all the time.
In the store:
"*loudly* Mommy, you just farted!"
At home: "Mommy
you're squishy!"
When friends are over
"Did you know I can pee standing up now? Just like daddy!"
...
So why not give them some
truths that YOU need to hear? What is your downfall; your issue? Speak the
Truth around them and those little boogers will kindly repeat it back to you
when you need to hear it! Usually at the moment you least want to hear
it.
This isn't to say that you
should share your darkest secrets with your children. It just means that if
there is an issue that you have that your kids can see, you should probably be
honest with them about it.
Saturday, October 24, 2015
As real as it gets ~ Birth Story ~ Ivy Leanne
I'll admit that this post (that is 1 year in the making, but I've been specifically working on it for the past week) has been harder for me to be ok with posting. It's easier for me to share my emotions than it is for me to talk about my physical bodily functions. I wanted to be honest about how everything went down without OVER sharing. There were so many things with my first pregnancy and labor/delivery that I wasn't educated on or prepared for and I don't want to be a part of that continuing problem. I'm excited that there is so much more education and information being given on the topic of pregnancy, labor & delivery, breast feeding, and post partum than there has been in even the recent past. The following post isn't full of beauty and politeness. It's raw and it's real. And the end result is the most beautiful person I have ever seen.
Saturday evening the 25th of July...
I had been having contractions on and off for two days. Nothing consistent. Some were uncomfortable, some I had to breath through. But mostly it was just annoying.
My husband was working the church service that night so I went with him and followed him around. Keep in mind that I was 10 days overdue! So I was huge. And I looked like I was walking while squeezing a bowling ball between my knees. I saw pretty much EVERY person I knew and was trying to pretend I was fine... mostly because I just really didn't want to think about HOW pregnant I still was. I didn't want to be at home thinking about it either. So there I was, wearing the only shirt and pair of pants that still fit, waddling around my church's huge campus, huffing and puffing.
I had called my midwife's office that Saturday morning to get their opinion on when I should come in since, although nothing consistent, I was having a lot of painful contractions and had been since Friday morning. They told me that instead of waiting until I was having consistent contractions 5 minutes apart, I should come in when I had 6 per hour for 2 straight hours.
That Saturday evening when we got home, we went ahead and called my mom just so she could make the 1.5 hour drive and be there "just in case". They got to our house at about 9:30pm. We went to bed at 10:00 and I could NOT get to sleep. I had 4 contractions between 10 and 11 and then 8 between 11 and 12am. So I told Jeff that I'd like to go in just to be safe. We got to Hillcrest at about 12:30am.
I was dilated to 3cm when I got there. I walked around a bit and also sat on a Peanut Ball to help me dilate. I was checked every 40 minutes. After 2 hours, I hadn't dilated at all even though my contractions were picking up and gaining in intensity. They talked about sending me home and I about cried. I just wanted to have this baby already!!
My amazing nurse, Jordyn, said that she could strip my membranes and see if that helped get things going. I agreed. And when she checked me 40 minutes later, I had dilated to 5cm! This was at about 3am. From that point on, I progressed pretty quickly. I had Lavender Essential Oil in the diffuser in my room to help keep me relaxed. I tried to get up and move around or sit on the peanut ball, since they say that laying in bed can make contractions worse or can stall labor. Honestly though, there was no way I could get out of that bed anymore. My contractions we every 1-6 minutes for 4 hours, never consistent. Even when I was dilated to 9cm, I was still having inconsistent contractions! I had been dilated to a 9 for about an hour. My fantastic midwife, Kim Kmita got there at (I'm guessing, but wasn't really looking at the clock) probably about 6am and used some of her essential oils on me (Panaway and Valor 1; Young Living). That was a huge help in itself, but along with that, Kim was very encouraging through each contractions and didn't pressure me to start pushing or anything. She told me through each contractions to relax my face. I don't know if it was a mind thing or if it actually physically helps, but focus on relaxing a muscle I COULD control made all the difference in being able to endure.
I've heard that some women in labor have a certain word or phrase they say and stick to through contractions that makes them feel grounded, even if the word or phrase doesn't make any sense. Unfortunately, mine was "I can't do it!"... At one point, I looked at Jeff during a pretty intense contraction and angrily said "I can't do it!"... and always the peace in my storm that he has always been, he looked me square in the eyes and said "Baby, you can do all things through Christ who gives you strength." For half a second, I wanted to bite his head off... but he was right... and that gave me the courage I needed to keep going. It reminded me that I was designed for this. God made the human body so incredible and He created me to be able to have a child. (So thanks babe for reminding me of Philippians 4:13). Through every contraction, my wonderful mother would remind me to breath and I kept getting mad at her! She did nothing wrong though and I honestly did need that constant reminder. Just hearing her voice and Jeff's voice (and him holding my back or being where I could see him) grounded me and helped me focus. Every time I'd get a little snippy with my mom or Jeff I would immediately apologize. I was determined that I would NOT allow myself to be mean, even in my pain and exhaustion. Through one particularly difficult contraction, I made the "fff" sound... the beginning of an awful word. Jeff said "honey, it's ok... if that's what you need to say I'm not going to judge you." But I decided I wasn't going to use this time as an excuse to lose myself control. It's funny to me that I had better self-control over my words in that moment than I have in the past when stubbing my toe. *rolls eyes*
So at 9cm, my water still had not broken, my contractions were constant, and I was starting to throw up, my face and limbs were going numb from hyperventilation, despite my best efforts to breath, and I was getting WAY way over exhausted. So Kim asked me if I'd be ok with her breaking my water. I remember the question, I didn't answer though because I was so exhausted and didn't know how to say "No don't break my water... This hurts too much and breaking my water will make it hurt worse."
Obviously, that makes no sense! There's no turning back now! Either way it will only hurt more and more... Finally, Kim asked again and I nodded "yes". I had to work it out in my brain that more pain would be better than constant pain. Kim had me get up and use the restroom first...that was one of the most difficult parts of my whole labor! Jeff had to hold me up because I was so light headed.
Kim broke my water (holy bleep........... that hurt.) In between a contraction, at probably close to 7am, 5-10 minutes after that, was when the urge to push started happening.
Through the first push, I threw up.... and then Jeff almost threw up! (That's one of my favorite parts of the story because he is NOT grossed out by anything.) I think it was like a sympathy throw up type of thing...and for some dumb and hormonal reason... it warmed my heart that he was that in tune with me.
Through the second push, I did something I had been horrified might happen but had never happened with my two labors with my boys. I pooped. Noooooooo! I was mortified. For real. But no one else was and I didn't have but maybe 2 seconds to be mortified before my next contraction hit and I needed to push again.
On my 3rd push, I yelled pretty freaking loud. Like amazon woman yell. Later on, Jeff was like "Oh...so it IS kinda like the movies!"... I had epidurals with both of my boys so the effort wasn't as painful with them. Part of it was because of effort and exhaustion, the other part was that she was crowning and OH MY GOSH. ow. Pretty intense.
I don't want to scare any of you new mommas... Yes it was incredibly difficult, painful and exhausting. But I am so proud of myself for doing that. I'm so glad I did. You can do it too. And you will be so glad you did! It is such an amazing and empowering experience!
On that 3rd push, I was pushing so hard that it was pushing Ivy out too fast! I didn't even know that was a thing, but pushing a baby out too fast is something that can cause you to rip (not tear, but rip!). So my rock star midwife got pretty harsh with me "Megan. SLOW DOWN. You have got to stop pushing right now!" That kind of scared me. Because in the moment, with all of my adrenaline rushing, I thought there was something wrong with my baby. I looked at my mom, with what I can guess was a panicked face, as a laid there trying my hardest to breath but not push. Ever the momma, she reassured me that everything was ok and Kim also reassured me and explained what was happening.
So on the 4th push, at 7:24a.m. on July 26th, my beautiful, gorgeous daughter, Ivy Leanne James entered this world. 7 pounds 13 ounces. 20.5 inches. Brown hair, brown eyes. The feeling of delivering a baby is like the most relieving feeling in the world, by the way. Also, the hormones that kick in as soon as baby is this side of the womb makes for lots of tears of joy and an insane feeling of needing to protect your baby and not share with anyone.
The cord was wrapped around her body and her neck and her poor little face was bruised and swollen from coming out too fast.
They set her on my chest. The plan was delayed cord clamping (leaving the cord intact until it stops pulsing) but because the cord had been wrapped around her neck (nuchal cord) it was only attached for about a minute before Kim made the call to cut it to make sure her brain was getting enough oxygen.
They took her to the little incubator in the room to check her vitals and all that fun stuff while I delivered the placenta. For some reason, probably from exhaustion, I felt like the placenta was more difficult to deliver than the baby. Not more painful, just more difficult.
Ivy was cleaned up. I was cleaned up. Then they brought her back to me for an hour of skin-to-skin and our first nursing session. One of the nurses was so sweet to share some of her knowledge with me since I was struggling a bit to figure it out (A post on my nursing experience for the first 3 months is soon to come).
After we'd had an hour of skin-to-skin and nursing, they moved us to the next floor up into our recovery room. I was blessed to have been the ONLY woman in labor that night and one of a very few women on the post-partum floor so all of the nurses were focused only on me and Ivy. Our nurse in post-partum was Becky, who went to our church! So that was kind of cool. My midwife requested that I be put in a room with the best view (downtown Tulsa). Have I mentioned yet how awesome she is?
That day (the 26th), a lot of visitors came, which is awesome. But I didn't get sleep, at all. Nor did I sleep that night. At around 5am on the 27th I finally fell asleep. For 10 minutes before the LAB guy came in to draw my blood! (WHO DOES THAT? Could've waited until a godly hour. Could've warned me so I could put a shirt on. That's my biggest complaint from my whole experience at Hillcrest. But oh well.) That day was filled with hearing tests and other tests on the baby (I approved the vitamin K shot for her but waited on any other shots usually given at birth and I opted out of the eye drops.) and also the pediatrician came and checked her out (he was the oddest person I have ever met, so that was... fun!). Ivy and I were in perfect health so they sent us home that evening and I was SO glad. Because it had now been 48 hours since I had slept and had been about a week since I had slept longer than an hour at a time! Ivy woke up every hour that first night at home but by the 4th night... she was sleeping through the night!!!
If I were to have another child (not in the plans), I honestly don't know if I'd choose an epidural or a natural labor. There are aspects about both that I totally loved. With natural labor and delivery, recovery was about 50 times better; I got to see what my body is capable of; All decisions were made by me or with my permission, which was not the case with my first two. But the epidural with both of my boys were done incredibly well and I could feel what was happening with my body only without pain. So no pain is always a plus. But that was about the only perk. But I wonder how different my labors with my boys would've been, even with an epidural, if I would've had Kim Kmita attending instead of my first ob/gyn. Guess I'll never know!
I hope you gained helpful information through my own birth story and that it helped you to be confident in YOUR birth plan, whatever it may be. (feel free to email me: meganljames90@gmail.com to request the birth plan I used.)
I could not have gone through this all without some very incredible people so I want to give them a huge Thank You!
First, yep you guessed it: Kim Kmita! She's an 11+ out of 10 when it comes to midwifery!
My husband, Jeff, who supported the fact that I wanted to go through with a natural labor and delivery and not ONCE during the process did he suggest medication or an epidural; he was truly supportive.
My momma, there for all 3 of my babies, and encouraging throughout.
Sonda Powell, my chiropractor (I am a huge advocate for chiropractic during and after pregnancy and for baby too)... I doubt you will find a better chiropractor than mine!
Resources used: The Husband Coached Childbirth book, The Bradley Method book, Google, Baby Center, Mommy Facebook Groups.
Saturday evening the 25th of July...
I had been having contractions on and off for two days. Nothing consistent. Some were uncomfortable, some I had to breath through. But mostly it was just annoying.
My husband was working the church service that night so I went with him and followed him around. Keep in mind that I was 10 days overdue! So I was huge. And I looked like I was walking while squeezing a bowling ball between my knees. I saw pretty much EVERY person I knew and was trying to pretend I was fine... mostly because I just really didn't want to think about HOW pregnant I still was. I didn't want to be at home thinking about it either. So there I was, wearing the only shirt and pair of pants that still fit, waddling around my church's huge campus, huffing and puffing.
I had called my midwife's office that Saturday morning to get their opinion on when I should come in since, although nothing consistent, I was having a lot of painful contractions and had been since Friday morning. They told me that instead of waiting until I was having consistent contractions 5 minutes apart, I should come in when I had 6 per hour for 2 straight hours.
That Saturday evening when we got home, we went ahead and called my mom just so she could make the 1.5 hour drive and be there "just in case". They got to our house at about 9:30pm. We went to bed at 10:00 and I could NOT get to sleep. I had 4 contractions between 10 and 11 and then 8 between 11 and 12am. So I told Jeff that I'd like to go in just to be safe. We got to Hillcrest at about 12:30am.
I was dilated to 3cm when I got there. I walked around a bit and also sat on a Peanut Ball to help me dilate. I was checked every 40 minutes. After 2 hours, I hadn't dilated at all even though my contractions were picking up and gaining in intensity. They talked about sending me home and I about cried. I just wanted to have this baby already!!
My amazing nurse, Jordyn, said that she could strip my membranes and see if that helped get things going. I agreed. And when she checked me 40 minutes later, I had dilated to 5cm! This was at about 3am. From that point on, I progressed pretty quickly. I had Lavender Essential Oil in the diffuser in my room to help keep me relaxed. I tried to get up and move around or sit on the peanut ball, since they say that laying in bed can make contractions worse or can stall labor. Honestly though, there was no way I could get out of that bed anymore. My contractions we every 1-6 minutes for 4 hours, never consistent. Even when I was dilated to 9cm, I was still having inconsistent contractions! I had been dilated to a 9 for about an hour. My fantastic midwife, Kim Kmita got there at (I'm guessing, but wasn't really looking at the clock) probably about 6am and used some of her essential oils on me (Panaway and Valor 1; Young Living). That was a huge help in itself, but along with that, Kim was very encouraging through each contractions and didn't pressure me to start pushing or anything. She told me through each contractions to relax my face. I don't know if it was a mind thing or if it actually physically helps, but focus on relaxing a muscle I COULD control made all the difference in being able to endure.
I've heard that some women in labor have a certain word or phrase they say and stick to through contractions that makes them feel grounded, even if the word or phrase doesn't make any sense. Unfortunately, mine was "I can't do it!"... At one point, I looked at Jeff during a pretty intense contraction and angrily said "I can't do it!"... and always the peace in my storm that he has always been, he looked me square in the eyes and said "Baby, you can do all things through Christ who gives you strength." For half a second, I wanted to bite his head off... but he was right... and that gave me the courage I needed to keep going. It reminded me that I was designed for this. God made the human body so incredible and He created me to be able to have a child. (So thanks babe for reminding me of Philippians 4:13). Through every contraction, my wonderful mother would remind me to breath and I kept getting mad at her! She did nothing wrong though and I honestly did need that constant reminder. Just hearing her voice and Jeff's voice (and him holding my back or being where I could see him) grounded me and helped me focus. Every time I'd get a little snippy with my mom or Jeff I would immediately apologize. I was determined that I would NOT allow myself to be mean, even in my pain and exhaustion. Through one particularly difficult contraction, I made the "fff" sound... the beginning of an awful word. Jeff said "honey, it's ok... if that's what you need to say I'm not going to judge you." But I decided I wasn't going to use this time as an excuse to lose myself control. It's funny to me that I had better self-control over my words in that moment than I have in the past when stubbing my toe. *rolls eyes*
So at 9cm, my water still had not broken, my contractions were constant, and I was starting to throw up, my face and limbs were going numb from hyperventilation, despite my best efforts to breath, and I was getting WAY way over exhausted. So Kim asked me if I'd be ok with her breaking my water. I remember the question, I didn't answer though because I was so exhausted and didn't know how to say "No don't break my water... This hurts too much and breaking my water will make it hurt worse."
Obviously, that makes no sense! There's no turning back now! Either way it will only hurt more and more... Finally, Kim asked again and I nodded "yes". I had to work it out in my brain that more pain would be better than constant pain. Kim had me get up and use the restroom first...that was one of the most difficult parts of my whole labor! Jeff had to hold me up because I was so light headed.
Kim broke my water (holy bleep........... that hurt.) In between a contraction, at probably close to 7am, 5-10 minutes after that, was when the urge to push started happening.
Through the first push, I threw up.... and then Jeff almost threw up! (That's one of my favorite parts of the story because he is NOT grossed out by anything.) I think it was like a sympathy throw up type of thing...and for some dumb and hormonal reason... it warmed my heart that he was that in tune with me.
Through the second push, I did something I had been horrified might happen but had never happened with my two labors with my boys. I pooped. Noooooooo! I was mortified. For real. But no one else was and I didn't have but maybe 2 seconds to be mortified before my next contraction hit and I needed to push again.
On my 3rd push, I yelled pretty freaking loud. Like amazon woman yell. Later on, Jeff was like "Oh...so it IS kinda like the movies!"... I had epidurals with both of my boys so the effort wasn't as painful with them. Part of it was because of effort and exhaustion, the other part was that she was crowning and OH MY GOSH. ow. Pretty intense.
I don't want to scare any of you new mommas... Yes it was incredibly difficult, painful and exhausting. But I am so proud of myself for doing that. I'm so glad I did. You can do it too. And you will be so glad you did! It is such an amazing and empowering experience!
On that 3rd push, I was pushing so hard that it was pushing Ivy out too fast! I didn't even know that was a thing, but pushing a baby out too fast is something that can cause you to rip (not tear, but rip!). So my rock star midwife got pretty harsh with me "Megan. SLOW DOWN. You have got to stop pushing right now!" That kind of scared me. Because in the moment, with all of my adrenaline rushing, I thought there was something wrong with my baby. I looked at my mom, with what I can guess was a panicked face, as a laid there trying my hardest to breath but not push. Ever the momma, she reassured me that everything was ok and Kim also reassured me and explained what was happening.
So on the 4th push, at 7:24a.m. on July 26th, my beautiful, gorgeous daughter, Ivy Leanne James entered this world. 7 pounds 13 ounces. 20.5 inches. Brown hair, brown eyes. The feeling of delivering a baby is like the most relieving feeling in the world, by the way. Also, the hormones that kick in as soon as baby is this side of the womb makes for lots of tears of joy and an insane feeling of needing to protect your baby and not share with anyone.
The cord was wrapped around her body and her neck and her poor little face was bruised and swollen from coming out too fast.
They set her on my chest. The plan was delayed cord clamping (leaving the cord intact until it stops pulsing) but because the cord had been wrapped around her neck (nuchal cord) it was only attached for about a minute before Kim made the call to cut it to make sure her brain was getting enough oxygen.
They took her to the little incubator in the room to check her vitals and all that fun stuff while I delivered the placenta. For some reason, probably from exhaustion, I felt like the placenta was more difficult to deliver than the baby. Not more painful, just more difficult.
Ivy was cleaned up. I was cleaned up. Then they brought her back to me for an hour of skin-to-skin and our first nursing session. One of the nurses was so sweet to share some of her knowledge with me since I was struggling a bit to figure it out (A post on my nursing experience for the first 3 months is soon to come).
After we'd had an hour of skin-to-skin and nursing, they moved us to the next floor up into our recovery room. I was blessed to have been the ONLY woman in labor that night and one of a very few women on the post-partum floor so all of the nurses were focused only on me and Ivy. Our nurse in post-partum was Becky, who went to our church! So that was kind of cool. My midwife requested that I be put in a room with the best view (downtown Tulsa). Have I mentioned yet how awesome she is?
That day (the 26th), a lot of visitors came, which is awesome. But I didn't get sleep, at all. Nor did I sleep that night. At around 5am on the 27th I finally fell asleep. For 10 minutes before the LAB guy came in to draw my blood! (WHO DOES THAT? Could've waited until a godly hour. Could've warned me so I could put a shirt on. That's my biggest complaint from my whole experience at Hillcrest. But oh well.) That day was filled with hearing tests and other tests on the baby (I approved the vitamin K shot for her but waited on any other shots usually given at birth and I opted out of the eye drops.) and also the pediatrician came and checked her out (he was the oddest person I have ever met, so that was... fun!). Ivy and I were in perfect health so they sent us home that evening and I was SO glad. Because it had now been 48 hours since I had slept and had been about a week since I had slept longer than an hour at a time! Ivy woke up every hour that first night at home but by the 4th night... she was sleeping through the night!!!
If I were to have another child (not in the plans), I honestly don't know if I'd choose an epidural or a natural labor. There are aspects about both that I totally loved. With natural labor and delivery, recovery was about 50 times better; I got to see what my body is capable of; All decisions were made by me or with my permission, which was not the case with my first two. But the epidural with both of my boys were done incredibly well and I could feel what was happening with my body only without pain. So no pain is always a plus. But that was about the only perk. But I wonder how different my labors with my boys would've been, even with an epidural, if I would've had Kim Kmita attending instead of my first ob/gyn. Guess I'll never know!
I hope you gained helpful information through my own birth story and that it helped you to be confident in YOUR birth plan, whatever it may be. (feel free to email me: meganljames90@gmail.com to request the birth plan I used.)
I could not have gone through this all without some very incredible people so I want to give them a huge Thank You!
First, yep you guessed it: Kim Kmita! She's an 11+ out of 10 when it comes to midwifery!
My husband, Jeff, who supported the fact that I wanted to go through with a natural labor and delivery and not ONCE during the process did he suggest medication or an epidural; he was truly supportive.
My momma, there for all 3 of my babies, and encouraging throughout.
Sonda Powell, my chiropractor (I am a huge advocate for chiropractic during and after pregnancy and for baby too)... I doubt you will find a better chiropractor than mine!
Resources used: The Husband Coached Childbirth book, The Bradley Method book, Google, Baby Center, Mommy Facebook Groups.
First Look/ Them putting pitocin in my IV to help with afterbirth
Ivy Leanne James
6 weeks later: Ivy and Kim Kmita
Daddy holding Ivy for the first time
Brothers meet Sister for the first time
Downtown Tulsa; the view from our room
flowers from a dear family friend, Tonja Colombo
1st week home; my silly girl
The hospital gives all the mommies a cupcake to celebrate their baby's very first birthday!
Dear Ivy,
My darling girl, you are an answered prayer to your whole family. But especially me, your momma. Your name means Faithful. God has been so faithful to give me the desires of my heart in having a little girl. I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.
Love, Mommy
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