Life of a Stoner

Today I reached my breaking point in this pregnancy. Hindsight’s 20/20, like they say, and it was an inevitable culmination of events and emotions that overwhelmed my small and currently cramped frame, as well as my small in-the-process-of-being-sanctified mind. 

At 9:00am I had my 38 week appointment with the midwife at the birthing center. I have felt crummy over the weekend, physically, and have felt that I am mentally declining as well; so I didn’t arrive happy to be there still pregnant with not even one contraction to report.

[A bit of info since the last update: last weekend I reached my 37th week, which was the ultimate goal since the pre-term labor symptoms were experienced starting at 28 weeks. We all thought the baby would certainly come during the 37th week, and indeed, I did have contractions 8 min apart for 1 hour that Saturday night, then nothing. I have been dilated to at least 3 cm since then, growing increasingly uncomfortable as my pelvic bones have already separated, but with no further progress except the loss of my mucus plug - sorry, graphic -  and continued bloody show.]

The midwife decided not to check me since I was not feeling well. This was hit number one. I had felt that certainly I was dilated past 3 cm by this time, and even half a centimeter progress I thought might bring some sustenance to my sanity. Then I was measuring very small, most likely because baby has moved down even further, so she said she could order an ultrasound if I wanted one but implied that it was suggested per protocol rather than because she felt it was necessary. Hit number two; how am I supposed to make that decision? I can hardly afford to have this baby at a birthing center, let alone adding on ultrasound fees and the potential to be referred to a hospital to acquire even more and astronomical fees, on top of the fact that I am physically and mentally depressed? Surely with a new life money should not be a factor, but I was clearly overwhelmed. Then was the chart review making sure we weren’t missing anything necessary to complete before baby’s arrival; there were a few gaps “because we just didn’t think you’d make it this far; how are you still here?” Hit number three; indeed, how am I still here? and the bomb drops out. If you know me, you know that my PDE [Public Displays of Emotion] are few and far between. But I started sobbing. And this little piggy cried all the way home.

All that had been stowed away surfaced upon the crash. The surprise pregnancy. The pre-term labor symptoms. Having to stop school half-way through the semester. Having to be extra careful for two months. Expecting baby early. Signs of labor. Waiting. Increasing physical discomfort. Irritability as a result. Waiting. Nothing. Mental decline. Hope. Discouragement. Breaking Point.

Crying is therapeutic in itself. I also have an incredible support system and foremost I would not be anywhere I am today if it were not for my relationship with Jesus Christ. I also watched the movie Sarah’s Key while my children napped; a good reminder that my discomforts and mental trials are small in comparison to what others faced in the past and still encounter today.

And true to historical pattern, the hindsight gained at the end of the day looking back over the morning’s meltdown made me feel guilty and silly for reacting as I did. I have friends and acquaintances who are trying to have children but are unable; and I view this miracle as an inconvenience. I feel a physical discomfort that has indeed made some permanent alterations to my body, but that overall will has a definitive source of relief and end-point; so many live with chronic pain that is hardly understood let alone relieved. My two-year plan was changed; I had the privilege of having a two-year plan instead of having to worry about making ends meet each day. Thankful for perspective. Thankful for forgiveness and understanding from One Who has experienced it all and only can provide true peace, and for those He has put in my life to remind me of that.

From my brother: “God knows you are tough, or else you probably would have had the baby by now.”

From a dear friend: “You are a trooper. You’ve been carrying it all with such grace. I can’t even imagine how it must feel. It’s okay to cry. Those tears needed to come out. Do you need some chocolate trinity ice cream?”

From another dear friend: “I’m so sorry…I cannot even begin to imagine how frustrating this has to be. I hope you feel better soon and please let me know if there is anything I can do for you! I love you friend!”

From my bosom buddy: “Wanted to encourage you to think about the fact that God has the details under control and is apparently still developing the most intimate details of your baby’s body for the well-being of his/her little life. In view of this and while you wait, praise God for the way He’s omnisciently providing for this little one’s health and development. Love you!”

From the Word: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

Is my faith so small that I could not accept that God could use this to make me more like Him? Had I already taken over planning my future again? Sometimes He has to bring us to our breaking points to get our attention. It is in fact the most loving thing He can do: save us from ourselves.

I am a mere mortal, and the flesh sometimes overcomes in the small daily battles. Thank you, LORD, that ultimate victory is already and forever Yours.

LORD, I believe; help my unbelief.

This is not a recent story, but it is one of my favorites that I have treasured up and that makes me laugh still every time I think about it or re-tell it.

Merrick Ridgley had started crawling, Rush was potty-training, and my body was re-adjusting to a non-pregnant state in more ways than one. I decided that my children were old enough for me to be able to go to the bathroom solo, with the door closed all the way. If you have not children, this may seem like a strange milestone to rejoice over; if you have children, I am sure you sympathize. Even when you are able to be in the bathroom alone, with the door closed, the little ones are usually right outside the door. Amazingly, they could be playing across the house, in another room, seemingly oblivious to you until you decide to go into the bathroom; as soon as you close the door - even if this is accomplished in complete stealth - they are at it, calling your name, saying they need something, asking if you are done yet [they often try out in the handle in case you didn’t lock the door, and/or begin knocking to physically emphasize the verbal cries for your maternal attention].

Anyway, I am not an overly modest mother, believing that at their young ages observing toiling habits and asking healthy questions that stem from what they see is how children learn about humans, themselves, and good hygiene. But I am modest enough to believe that certain monthly feminine rituals are not for little ones to be privy to. Hence the emphasis on the need to start implementing a privacy policy.

I thought I would be discreet and diplomatic in my approach to introducing, claiming, and sharing the concept and practice of privacy - and I thought this would be fairly easily accomplished since Rush was potty training. I simply explained that privacy is when people have time and space to do something alone, such as go to the bathroom. I made it a point to offer privacy to him each time he went to the bathroom and to claim privacy for myself to get the point across.

I know, brilliant, right?

And the plan seemed to work perfectly. Privacy was embraced and practiced by all of us. Then came the day when I was reminded of how observant children are; we think we can trick them into things, and maybe we can to an extent. But they are ever vigilant at picking up on even minute details and applying them to life in ways that we may not realize until they are able or just happen to verbalize something from their point of view.

Case-in-point: One day, several weeks into privacy training, I was changing clothes as my children played in my bathroom. Suddenly, Rush called out:

“Oh, NO! Mommy!!”

As I scrambled to get my clothes on, I replied:

“Oh - what is it?!”

And rushed into the bathroom.

“Mommy, Merrick Ridgley dumped ALL your privacies on the floor!”

And behold: Merrick Ridgley had crawled over near the toilet, taken my box of tampons [which Rush did not fail to notice happened to be sitting on the floor almost every time I became strict about having privacy] and spilled them all over the floor.

“Yes, Rush; yes, she did. It is ok though, we will just pick them up.” [and Mommy will not leave them on the floor anymore]

And I still call them privacies to this day.

Today the kids and I were on an errand downtown for my mother and stopped at my brother Eric’s house to take a look at the progress of bachelor pad renovation as he counts down to his wedding day, April 7. [see the progress for yourself and have a peek into the awesome personalities of my oldest younger brother and his soon-to-be wife: http://dontwaitfor.us/]

My brother was bicycling his way home from work, so as we waited for him, the children and I walked around outside admiring the plentiful piles of pollen, smelling sweet wisteria, and finally encountering a testament to the inherent predatory nature of domesticated felines when we discovered a deceased shrew deposited in Eric’s driveway.

“Oh, a mouse Mommy!”

“Oh, uh, yes; I think it is a shrew actually. A shrew is very similar to a mouse; they usually live in the ground. Its nose is slightly pointier than a mouses, and its tail is shorter.”

“Why is he just laying there?”

“Yes, well…I think that a cat may have caught that shrew and then left it in Uncle Eric’s driveway. Cats are very good at catching shrews and mice and rodents like them.”

“Oh. He is a dead shrew.” “Mommy, what kind of noise do shrews make?”

“Hmmm; I think that they probably squeak, similar to the sounds mice make.”

“Do you think that shrew was squeaking when the cat caught him because he didn’t want to die?”

“Yes; yes, he probably was.” “Shall we go look at this clover patch over here?”

Monday, I went to the birthing center for my next appointment. Assessment determined that there have been no changes since my last appointment, meaning that the baby is still at a 0 station but my cervix is staying closed, which is a good thing.

In response to my inquiry about whether poor baby’s head is being molded like play dough in the hands of my toddlers due to being engaged for an extended period, I was assured that I seem to have an invitingly wide pelvic inlet so baby has settled there comfortably and happily, against a smooth cervical surface, and is not wedged into place conforming to the uncomely shape of the exit route.

This good news was followed by a baby shower given for me by my classmates – who have become close friends – at school.

The shower itself was not a surprise, but the generosity and support I received was absolutely overwhelming! I felt missed and encouraged by friends and faculty at the same time. It was a big test and assignment week for everyone, but they took the time to prepare yummy treats, write sweet cards, and give precious gifts to our family. I feel so loved and special – blessed to have such awesome people in my life – and encouraged through this time.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everyone!!

We continue to appreciate your prayers, and I will continue to keep you posted.

Good thing God is in control. You’d think I’d be able to live that out as easily as I can say and type it by now; over and over again, throughout the history of the world and the history of my life, He has proved how His plan and His timing are always so much better than anything I come up with.

It’s not so easy though.

Especially when I thought what I was doing was part of God’s plan. Still was, and is. It is rather a personal problem when God’s plan doesn’t play out quite like I envisioned it. See, I struggle with this: seeking and accepting God’s plan one day; then taking it upon myself to carry that plan out long term instead of prayerfully participating in how it plays out day-by-day; and that’s where I get into trouble. Then it becomes my plan after all, and I get miffed when the plan God had all along fails to follow the course I ended up setting for it. So thankful for forgiveness. And so thankful His plan prevails.

Here’s the most recent illustration for this [it’s a doozy]:

August 2011: we prayerfully decided that I would go back to school to earn my Bachelor of Science in Nursing. So we put our house on the market since we didn’t want to be in Simpsonville long-term anyway and we could rent my parents’ basement apartment for a price that would help alleviate cost of school and childcare. The house didn’t sell, but we got a lease offer and decided to take it since the lease would span the time that I would be in school and we would rather have it rented than on the market trying to show it with school starting. Commencement of the first [of four] semesters of nursing school.

October 2011: positive pregnancy test. And not only that, positive pregnancy test in spite of my 99.9% effective form of birth control: the IUD. Whoa. 99.9% is nothing to God. Initial emotions included shock, fear, and disappointment. What about the two-year plan? This was part of the Master[’s] Two Year Plan, which I somehow forgot about when I took over responsibility of my own initiative. Oops. I finally got to the point that this was God’s plan and God’s baby and that He would work out all of the details. At least the baby was due at the end of the second semester so I would only have two more to complete after summer break and adjusting to life with another child.

March 2012: pregnancy complications. Increasing pressure the week prior to spring break urged me to consult an instructor/mentor and my midwife. It was determined that the baby, at 29 weeks, was head down and engaged in the pelvis. Thankfully I was not dilating and not having any contractions, but at this early stage these things needed to be avoided so I was advised to consult school on my options for continuing in the semester with limitations on my physical abilities [basically, I needed to seriously limit myself to avoid bed rest]. School advised that I withdraw at this point in the semester [except for my online class] and resume in the summer/fall. Once again, not part of my the plan. At least God was not taken by surprise.

Balancing being a wife, mother, student, small group leader, and employee has left little time for anything else. It will be nice to have some extra ticks and tocks to devote to things such as blogging.

Baby #3 [that is an umbilical cord in the picture, not a distinguishing male feature], whose gender will remain a surprise until birth, is technically due May 19. As of now, the goal is to make it to 37 weeks, which puts us right at the end of April/first of May. I will go to see the midwife every 2 weeks [unless I feel adverse symptoms between appointments], and they will likely check me each visit.

I will post updates on the blog, since as you may or may not have figured out, I am a Facebook Fail and only slightly more consistent with my Tweets.

I am trying to follow God’s plan one day at a time. I know His plan is better than mine, and I know that He will provide for details like needing our house to sell so we can find another house so we have a room for the baby and financially if the baby comes early and has to be delivered at a hospital rather than the birthing center. It is hard to wait for His timing though.

We appreciate your prayers as we submit to the Master[’s] Plan.