Baby For Sale--Motivated

We've always been very lucky, fortunate, blessed, graced, what have you, with the kids. All kids were great nursers. Not one second's worth of trouble there. The babies slept through the night very early on, thanks in part to our dedication to sleeping through the night. I'm a fan of a loose schedule, but not for the reason many books suggest.

Several back-to-back years of parenting babies and reading books and trying things first one way and then another and talking to other parents who have done things first one way and then another, has brought me to this realization: I'm a fan of a loose schedule. Who knew it could be as easy as that little thing? Certainly cuts down on the husband/wife drama at 3am. We didn't have our own way of thinking with our first baby. We just read a book, decided it sounded like a good idea and followed it verbatim.

Oops. Still dealing with the ramifications of that.

Anyway, without a loose schedule, how else do you get more than one child to nap at the same time? Or how do you address the real point of the schedule: Mom's nap.

But luckily, we never had fussy babies like some people do. Seemed like each baby was more easy-going than the last. Then, of course, the girls became toddlers. One definitely tougher and more strong-willed than the last. I don't know where they get that from.

But Joshua is charting new territory for me. That of Screaming Baby. I thought at first he was deathly ill or an invisible person was actually cutting his throat with their sharp, invisible knife. Because beginning about last week, he would scream and scream and scream. Not fussing. Not whining. Those, I can just about tune out. At least that's the rumor. "Mama can't hear you when you're whining." But I began to notice that anytime he was in his high chair and I moved out of his eyesight, however brief, he would start in. Sometimes that only meant he was facing the table and I was behind him at the refrigerator. Sometimes, all I have to do is get up from my chair. The result? High-pitched screaming. Wailing. Gnashing his 4 tiny teeth together.

With Brian gone, the Witching Hour of 4-5pm became the Witching Afternoon/Evening. I would serve dinner, then start bathing kids, leaving Bubba in his high chair with a snack while I got the girls bathed. He never stopped screaming until I got him out of his chair.

Then he was fine.

Or I would put him in his bed, praying exhaustion the reason for his ire. He would then stand there or even lay there and scream until I rescued him.

Once released, he was fine.

I took him to the doctor last week. After a long wait and a short visit where I hoped for some easy identifiable, minor medical reason, I was told he was fine. Great. It was the worst possible answer: it's his personality. Right before my very eyes, he was changing from that of a sunny, happy, thrilled-to-be-here, 4th child, only boy pleasure to a set of screaming hot cross buns. Mama. Just. Can't. Have. That.

What to do?

I thought about what I would do if one of the other kids wanted to have a throwdown screaming fit. Everyone over the age of 2 knows screaming and whining and crying is okay at our house. But has to be done in the bedroom. As soon as the urge to throwdown passes, they are welcome back to GenPop. I decided we could do that with Bubba, too. Unfortunately, it's not always convenient to put him in his bed. Like this morning. Trying to get the girls ready and out the door for preschool was not a good time to put him in his bed. He had to stay in his chair and scream.

I'm very fearful of this screaming stage. It's very painful for me to stand there and listen to him scream, but the last thing I want to do is to create a big, spoiled monster of a boy who grows into a spoiled kid who thinks the world (and everyone in it) is there to serve his needs. An entitled boy who turns into a selfish, spoiled monster of husband with a wife who going to be cursing me later. And I think it all begins here. Joshua Peter (Bubba Gump) Welch has to learn here and now that I, nor his sisters, or his dad are here to serve his purpose. He is just one of 6 people in this group. Sometimes, Mom has to get up from the table. Sometimes other people's needs have to come first. Sometimes, you're just gonna be sad. But if you want to scream and cry about it, you gotta do it in your room.

Otherwise, Mr. Hot Cross Buns, as the rhyme suggests, I'll sell you "one a-penny". I'm motivated.

A Topic Never Broached...

Quiver full.

I don't tend to shy away from discussions. I am definitely interested in and love hearing about people's explanations of how they come to decisions. Especially decisions that could have only been influenced by the Lord. I want to know how things worked out and the end result.

I found a very nice discussion on the quiverful movement and thought I'd link to it here. It's a blog post written by a mother with 6 children and you might be surprised what she says. Her post has over 300 comments and commenting is now closed, but commenting is open here. I would love to hear what anyone stumbling around my blog thinks about this topic.

Let me place this disclaimer: Those who were around for the homeschooling discussion, be assured this discussion will not follow the negative turn of that one.

Thoughts on Contraception and The Quiverfull Movement.

Who's gonna start?

Busy, Busy, Busy

Last year we didn't do anything. Actually, I take that back. I waddled around, waiting to birth the elephant we named Reagan. It was all I could do to haul myself out of bed in the morning and tend to the "big" girls throughout the day. Lily didn't go to preschool, Darcy wasn't old enough and we barely darkened the door of any church. We had no discipline to do so and no interest.

Now, Reagan is 9 months old and I'm lumbering around with her on my hip. Lily and Darcy just started "school" Tuesday and are going twice a week. Class starts at 8:30am so I must get up by 5:30am so everyone can be fed, dressed and washed before we commence our day. I actually like getting up that early so I can what I like to do in the morning before I get started: wander around. I like to wander around the house and get some coffee and look out the window. And then check my email. The problem with getting up early is that I'm a night person who likes to stay up late. 5:30am comes mighty early when I don't go to bed until midnight. I'm working out the kinks.

Once I drop the girls off at school, it's just me and Reagan. Tuesdays I plan to run errands. This week we ran about 5 errands, including going to the grocery store. It was nice only hauling around one kid, instead of a busy infant and 2 very busy preschoolers. Today was my "house" day. I didn't get much done around the house since I made a phone call to a friend who is leaving for a long journey soon. I'm not beating myself up, which is huge. When she returns, she will most likely have her hands full and won't have the luxury of long phone calls for a while. I can mop next week.

Tuesday and Thursday nights, we have soccer practice which Lily really seems to enjoy. There do seem to be several girls on her team who have played before and are excellent for this age. However, I'm certain that my daughter will also be excellent when she has played for 2 or 3 seasons. Practice starts at 6:30 and we decided it would be better to eat supper first, instead at nearly 8pm. We eat at 5ish and hope that dinner is more or less digested before practice. We all watch Lily practice and it thrills my heart to hear Darcy yelling, "Good job, Lily!" When we get home, Brian bathes them, they have a snack before bed and we do our devotions. The other night, we had everyone in bed, bathed, devoted, and snacked by 8:15. Not too shabby.

Wednesday nights are Awana. The "big"girls will be doing that and I think they will enjoy it. Brian is even going to be volunteering with Awana as well. I will not. That's just not my thing. I don't know what I'm going to be doing instead. They offer a prayer service or something, but passing by last night, it looks like I'm going to be the only one there under 65. Then I think I could volunteer in one of the children's programs...how bad could it be? I think I'd rather stick my finger in my eye. I don't know...maybe I could get to know another mother whose kids/husband is in Awana and she doesn't feel the call to help.

I am starting our first "official" year of homeschooling, even though it is actually pre-kindergarten and Lily just turned 4. We are working out of a kindergarten math book and so far, it seems to be going well. Lily always wants to know why she can't keep "playing" with the manipulative of the day. Today we'll have our first lesson on blending letters to make actual words. I don't know how that's going to go, but I am looking forward to it. I have also written activity "plans" for the days they are home with me that correspond to what they are working on at school.

It seems like our evenings are full to the brim, but I am loving the feeling of chaos, to be completely honest. I like that we have someplace to be and so therefore, I've got to be efficient. I am definitely making progress and can see what areas I still want to focus on. Before, we had no real direction or purpose. We were just doing this thing or that thing, but now we must be purposeful, because our time is limited. I like that I am thinking along those lines. Even though we have more to do, I feel like I am operating under more peace and grace than before. I am thrilled, thankful and anxious to show my girls the same thing.

More Housewives Analysis

I finished reading the book this morning. The authors make some good points about depending on God, finding contentment and the fact that "women's work" isn't lesser work.

However, I don't find much practical advice in getting from malcontent to content. Just that I should be there. Or maybe I wasn't looking hard enough.

They dispel the necessity of finding a block of time daily to spend with God. On its face, I find that to be poor advice. I don't know if I can/would seek the Lord in bites. I find spending that block of time is a necessary part of my day, Well, only if I want my day to go well. When I start the day off with the Lord, it seems that my patience goes a little further and I'm more focused. I'm more kind and I can find joy in my "hamster wheel" tasks. I believe the Lord understands when we've been up 13 times a night with the baby and then had another one of our blessings throw up, as happened to one of the authors. I don't find it to be a "mandate". However, it's something that acts as a blessing and an encouragement as I go through my day.

There are days I don't spend time with the Lord. But before I just decide I'm "too busy," I need to evaluate my lifestyle. When my laziness becomes a habit preventing me from rising early, then maybe my guilt is actually conviction for a misuse and poor stewardship of my time. But if in the execution of caring for my children, I need sleep because I have a nursing baby, that's another thing altogether, and I believe the Lord is there through it. But we can't expect to survive on "bites" while we have children at home.

One thing I like is a quote from page 64:

We must remember that when we view other women-- other families-- we are only outsiders looking in at the part of life they are willing to show us. Or perhaps, in the case of the unfortunate parent with the "crashing and burning" toddler, we see them on a bad day. We can only see a small percentage of what real life is like for them. We can't see the whole picture, nor are we invited to. Our own families and our own lives should keep us plenty busy without the need to speculate about the ups and downs of others. (Emphasis mine.)

I'm not going to live my life from a list. I'm certainly not going to depend on the Stacy McDonalds and the Jennie Chanceys of the world to dictate to me what I should be doing as a wife and mother. I accept their book for what it is: an opinion and nothing more. I stand by my opinion that God has a plan for me and is refining me.

I'm okay with that.

Passionate Housewives Desperate For God

I am reading Passionate Housewives Desperate For God. It's been a tough read for me, and I can't quite figure out why. Is it because I truly disagree with what they're promoting or is it because I am weighted down with conviction?

If I were to be honest, I think it may be some of both.

At this point in time, I am only giving it a surface read. I'm not reading it with my Bible out, checking references. I am trying to get the gist of it. I think the authors make some interesting points. Although, I don't know if I'm willing to read it again without the chip on my shoulder. Perhaps I should start over and read it with my Bible and an open mind.

However, those ladies seem to be in a different place in their lives than I. I want the phase of my life where I judge others for their decisions to be over. I definitely want judgment of my life to be over. I am tired of comparing myself to what other moms/women/families are doing and not measuring up to some pre-conceived notion. I admit that the pre-conceived notion is often one of my own conception, but it's based on a comparison of lives I am ill-equipped to emulate. I can't copy the housekeeping regimen of a friend who doesn't have children. Or even the regimen of families that have older children to help. I must accept my limitations. Or at least the idea that I may possibly have limitations. It's a process.

I guess the good thing about the book, even if I'm not in complete agreement with the authors, it's causing me to think, reflect and contemplate my own life and what God wants from me. And maybe that was the whole point.

Calgon, Take Me Away

Break Update
I have heard that the more time someone spends away from home, the more time they want to be away. I think there is some truth to that. After my weekend away, I remember thinking I could get used to hanging out with my friends until the wee hours, experiencing a tour of food pleasures, and sleeping until my bladder, not my children, wake me up. No laundry, no responsibilities. All that to say...my weekend was nice and quiet. No Dr. Laura and only one meal alone, but it was peaceful, nonetheless. I would have liked one more day for some solitude and time for thinking after all my socializing was complete. I don't know if I can get the thinking done that I need to do at home. Too many distractions, even when all's quiet. I certainly came home with some insight and perspective I hadn't really had. I realized I am not a bad mother.

Blood Test Update
My bloodwork shows that my thyroid is not rotting out of my head. It is plugging along, doing its job well within the normal range. I'm sure that's a good thing, just not the answer I wanted to hear even though it's the answer I expected.

Clifford the Big Red Dog Update
I was sad to hear of Issac Hayes' passing. I guess he won't be auditioning for the voice of Clifford in Clifford the Seriously Big (Bigger Than A House) Red Dog. I thought I remembered Barry White being dead also, so I don't know who is going to take Clifford to the next level...maybe Brad Garrett? I'm not married to the idea of a singer doing the voice, just a voice that's as big as the dog.

Rocky Mountain Update
I had opportunity to investigate the trend line of "club attire" while on my break. I don't recall seeing any Rockies. They must be passe. I do recall seeing lots of high-heeled shoes. I love heels. Although, where I went was not strictly "country". I did not see any key-hole shirts with orange and teal zig-zags. Mens' clothing is remarkably unchanged from my former days of bar-hopping.

Excellent.Useful.Product.
The ideas are still churning on how to make my binder organizer the answer to everyone's organizing questions. I found some very cool binders and dividers while on my break that I think will work perfectly for this project. I want to market my idea to all moms who could use a hand in keeping it all together in one place. That's the goal of this. Everything together, customized to each mother's needs, not just homeschooling. Brian is going to be out of town for the next couple of days so I'm going to utilize this time to get my organizer finished and ready to be hole-punched. This thing is going to blow Amy Knapp's (the best I've seen to date) out of the water. There won't be any need to buy the whole thing every single year. Just supplement with the sections you need.

Close To My Heart Scrapbooking Layouts
For the last year and a half, I have been attending a Close To My Heart scrapbooking club. Every month, we make at least 2-2 page layouts using paper, stamps and embellishments from the most recent catalog. The "club" is apparently the brain-child of a Director who probably makes a ton of money from this venture. She has several groups that meet like this every month and club members commit to a year and are required to purchase the club kit every month ($15 + tax). We learn new techniques and most of us buy much more than our required purchase. Every month, some new benefits from the windfall as "hostess". Last year when I was the hostess, my "party" had over $400 in sales and I got a substantial amount of stuff...free.

The only problem is that I have a ton of layout pages that I don't really like or aren't going to use. I've made them and I'm proud of them, so I'm not going to throw them away. I think there is a market for completed scrapbooking pages and my research shows that everyone seems to like Close To My Heart. Beginning this week, I think I will start posting the pages I don't like on eBay and see if someone else likes them better.

Political Observations From A Reformed Feminist

I watched portions of The Debate on Saturday. I don't usually follow politics, but Brian has such a huge interest that I must this season so that we'll have something to talk about. As a reformed feminist who spent my senior year of high school wearing a T-shirt that read: A Woman's Place Is In The House or The Senate, I am interested in what happens with Hilary Clinton. What I don't know or haven't figured out yet is if she is trying to fit in as man in this man's world and/or is she hoping to garner women's vote only on solidarity.

All that to say, I couldn't believe how unfeminine Hilary Clinton appeared wearing a black pants suit, green blouse and low heels. That's not what I would wear. I don't have a problem with the black, but how about a skirt? Suits with long skirts (with a modest slit to the knee) are feminine and yet, professional. I'm 5'10" and I'd be wearing 3-inch heels. I would want to look these guys in the eye.

Then I heard her speaking and she sounded like a mean, old bulldog snarling and barking at everyone. I told Brian, "Man, she is tough." This certainly was not some dainty woman. Then I remembered that she was a lawyer for years and years long before this. Those ladies have to be tough.

And the unthinkable happened....Hilary cried.

Yesterday morning, George Stephanopoulous and Diane Sawyer (or was it Charles Gibson?) had an interesting chat about Hilary's chances in New Hampshire. I don't think this is an exact quote, but "slim to none" was what I heard. In fact, Georgie-boy had a graph with a big red "X" on the next few states she was not going to win: Nevada and North Carolina (or was it South Carolina). Things were not going to turn around for her until Super Tuesday.

Later in the morning, I tuned into The View. This is not my usual fare, but I did get a commentary on Hilary's emotional display in a greasy spoon somewhere in the New Hampshire 'burbs.

It was pretty interesting. First of all, among the combatants, it was pretty universal that a man choking up over the rigors of campaigning would be labeled "weak". If being on the campaign trail is emotional and draining, well, that's just too bad. Nature of the beast and all. Live with it. Being President is tough work. But for a woman? Well, she finally showed that she's got a heart. She's really a woman. Isn't that wonderful? Women can relate to this.

Apparently, that's the case in New Hampshire because when all those women got off work and were on their way to soccer practice with dinner in a bag from McDonalds, they stopped off at the local elementary school and voted for Hilary. Because she understands what it's like to be a woman...blah, blah, blah. When the polls started turning for her, I called her victory as a result of the emotional incident. Then! I was vindicated on National TV by George and Charlie. Women came out in droves to show their support for a woman who is finally not acting like a man.

Brian thinks it's a political ploy, this crying. He's jaded and doesn't know the first thing about the emotional highs and lows that women go through. I'm taking the high road because I have been there. Not on a national campaign trail for President, but I have been overloaded and stressed and I have cried....at work. Now it wasn't in front of million of people and then replayed on YouTube, but it was humiliating enough.

But I have realized in the last year, God did not make women to hide their emotions or it wouldn't be so hard. If I am in a situation (like an office) and it's not appropriate to show my God-given emotion, then perhaps I'm not in the right environment. He made us emotional. It's okay. Really. How else can we be the heart of the home, like He intended?

First, we actually have to be at home not running the streets at every opportunity. What a concept!

Women are shirking their responsibilities at home and in the meantime, looking for validation that it's okay. But it's not and no amount of pandering is going to change that. The more we turn away from what God intended for us, the more trouble we have. If Hilary had been at home crying about the kids being out of control, or her burned dinner or being tired from taking care of 3 sick kids, her husband, her protector, would do just that: protect her. Or at least he should. Not leave the whole country to wonder if it's okay to a woman to cry, if it's okay for a man to cry and whether those tears were real or contrived and how that bodes for a Commander-In-Chief.

I have said before that since America doesn't seem to be ready for a woman anchor on the Evening News, then we're not ready for a woman President.

I fear for our families if I am wrong.

A Baby Story

Things are starting to settle down into some semblance of normalcy...if that can actually be defined with a newborn in da crib. Literally.

Reagan Elizabeth was ushered in, a week earlier than planned, two weeks earlier than was due, on Monday, November 26, 2007 at 4:58am. As was suspected, she weighed between 9 and 10 pounds at 9 pounds, 7 ounces and was 21 inches long.

I went into labor on Sunday evening, with contractions 3 minutes apart for over an hour. I was reluctant to go to the hospital being nearly sure that the contractions would stop. Like they usually do. When the nurse actually captured 2 of them on the monitor, I felt validated. When the nurse told me that I was dilated to a 1, I was ecstatic. I had never been dilated before! This meant that my body was doing something to prepare for the baby...and I wasn't crazy. Unfortunately, my team of medical professionals would not be doing anything to stop this labor. I would not be going home without a baby. At 9:30pm, we were told that we would either have a baby "now" or first thing in the morning.

I was in a dead panic. We (read: I) were not prepared to have a baby. What about the girls? My doctor was not on call. I didn't have any clothes. I couldn't even think of what I might need. I was supposed to get a pedicure this week. My swanky nursing pajamas hadn't arrived yet.

We alerted the media. My parents, scheduled to arrive the following Sunday for a birth that was to occur on the 3rd, would not be able to come until Tuesday. Of Brian's parents, scheduled to arrive Saturday before the birth, only Gran was able to come, and not until Monday afternoon.

For the current problem of what to do with the girls all night while we wait for a decision to be made by those in the know (because I wasn't going anywhere), thank God for Ashlee, our babysitter. She was not working at her regular job Sunday night and was able and willing to come and stay all night with the girls while Brian stayed with me. She even offered to skip her classes on Monday, in case we needed her.

From 8pm until 3:30am, we waited and I contracted every 3 minutes. After hours and hours of watching the clock and trying to rest, my nurse barged in the room and threw on the overhead light. Within 30 minutes, all parties would be there to start the surgery. After hours of "hurry up and wait", their efficiency was nerve-wracking.

The nurse anesthetist showed up and yes, I actually asked her if she was well-rested. I had no problem having a baby during normal business hours, but I've read too many scary medical stories in Reader's Digest about after hours procedures. (And this is not a big city hospital...all these people had been sleeping snug in their beds.) She said she'd had about 3 hours of sleep. In my opinion, that's not well rested. Personally, I can hardly make coffee when I've had only 3 hours of sleep. Honestly, this was my 3rd baby, my 3rd set of doctors and my 3rd surgery and she was by far the best anesthetist of them all. She had very kind eyes, the only part of her that I could see. She had me facing away from all the "equipment" to keep me from being anxious. She had the drape as far away from my face as could be managed and told me that I could have my hands loose. When she saw me using those loose hands to scratch and scratch, she gave me a shot of Benedryl. I never got nauseous, much less threw up. She even held the baby so I could kiss her.

Recovery is always fun...I never know what is going on even though I try earnestly to pay attention. I do remember hearing it took over 2 hours and many, many sticks to start Reagan's IV. Actually, I don't remember much of the first day. People came to visit and later when I tried to remember, it seemed like a dream.

Reagan was not allowed to come out of the nursery because of transient tachypnea of the newborn (TTN) which is fancy doctor talk for fast breathing. Apparently, it's a condition most often seen in big, fat babies delivered by C-section. Too much fluid in the lungs causes the baby to breathe fast. Normally, most of the fluid would be pushed out during delivery. The problem is not unusual and tends to right itself in a day or two, sometimes less. After 3 days of little improvement (and no nursing....could be too stressful for the baby to suck and try to breathe) our pediatrician called a neonatalogist at the children's hospital in Fort Worth for a second opinion. That doctor wanted her to be transferred to that hospital for an echocardiogram to ensure that there wasn't more to the problem. Apparently, fast breathing could be a symptom of an infection, a heart problem, etc., etc., etc.

Wednesday, my doctor discharged me and Reagan was transferred to Cook's Children's Hospital in Fort Worth. I tried to be strong while the doctor was talking to me...but I was in shock. Just the night before, he assured us that there was only a 10% chance that she would need to be transferred. When the sweet nurses asked me how I was doing, I started crying. Something was wrong with the baby, no one knew exactly what it was and I was all alone. Brian hadn't made it in from the plant yet. Then the transport team showed up with the contraption they use to transport those sick babies and I was inconsolable. It's a gurney with an incubator and machines and leads and oxygen and scary medical stuff. They assessed the baby and took her to Fort Worth. Brian and I went home to get some clothes and things. We had no idea what to expect when we got to Fort Worth.

Reagan was re-routed to Baylor All Saints. The NICU there was spectacular. Everyone from the department head to the baby's daily nurse went above and beyond. The doctor was the same one there every single day. When we weren't there and called to see about her, the nurses never acted like it was an inconvenience to answer our questions.

All tests indicated it was TTN and little by little, her respirations were slowing down. On Thursday, the neonatalogist finally let her nurse and she did great. Until then, they'd been feeding her pumped breast milk and formula through a tube in her nose. Brian and I were driving back and forth to Fort Worth every day to visit her and then coming home in the evenings to Lily and Darcy worn to a frazzle and emotionally exhausted. Thank God for my mother-in-law who stayed with the girls and fixed dinner every night. I don't know how I would have coped.

After another brutal day of driving back and forth to Fort Worth and sitting by Reagan's bedside, I came home to find a large box in the living room. It was a Shower-In-A-Box from our friends back home. That was absolutely the most amazing thing. At a time I needed to know it the most, God used our friends to show us in a very tangible way that people were thinking about us, cared about us and were praying for us. It was exactly what I needed at exactly the right moment.

The next day as we were preparing to go visit Reagan, her nurse called and told us that she would be discharged the next day if we'd like to "room-in" that night. I jumped at the opportunity. We ended up in a tiny little room in the corner of the NICU for nearly 24 hours. I got an extremely uncomfortable twin bed and Brian slept on a chair that folded out...standard hospital fare. No meals were provided. At least we did have a TV. I thought we'd end up playing 20 questions all night. I understand why they do this rooming in thing, but Brian thinks it's a racket. They charged us another day's room and board even though we did all the work and I provided all the board. Brian thinks that if she's well enough to "room-in" then she's well enough to go home and save us the money. I think they see a lot of sick babies and need to know that the parents know how to care for the babies before they send them home. Some of the babies go home with equipment. It just so happens that we've done this kind of thing before.

Finally, on Saturday, December 1st, on our 5th wedding anniversary, Reagan came home from the hospital. So far, she's doing well. Her stump has fallen off and she regained her birth weight (and then some) in the allotted time period. Her sisters are interested in her and don't like her to fuss for any reason. Our next goal: sleeping through the night. Last night, she went from 12:30am until 5am so we are well on our way.

Wendy

On Friday night, I received an email from my best friend from high school with a link to a blog and a note. She was writing to tell me that a girl that we knew growing up from our church youth group (only a year older) was in the hospital in a coma...and that things did not look good. Her husband had found her Monday night unconscious and not breathing on their living room floor. Some person or people had thoughtfully put together a blog to inform people of Wendy's condition and I read everything that was posted.

Over the course of the weekend, several times a day, I checked the blog to see what the updates were on Wendy's condition. An EEG on Saturday morning reported no change in brain activity and her family struggled to determine whether to send her to hospice or remove physiological assistance.

I have been deeply and personally affected by this...even though I have not spoken to Wendy in years. You see, Wendy would be leaving behind her husband, a 4-year daughter and a 3-week old son. And I thought about our little family. Wendy was a healthy woman...and one day after a shower, her husband walks in and finds her on the floor. As far as I know, doctors still aren't entirely sure what had caused this coma, except for the lack of oxygen to the brain...other contributing factors are unknown.

Saturday night, Wendy was removed from all support at almost 7pm and at 10:05pm, she passed away holding the hand of her husband, never having regained consciousness.

This morning I read a post about Wendy's husband telling their daughter about her mother and I just cried. Not that I hadn't been crying and hurting for this family all weekend...and wondering if our family could survive something like that.

I know that God is sovereign and that He is in control of all things and that this would happen has been known since time began. But even though I should derive some comfort from that, I'm not...I'm thinking about those poor children.

I Am An Aunt

In the course of the last few months, I have had very limited contact with my family. I wondered how (or if) I would know when Susie had her baby or if something bad happened to one of my parents. I knew that Susie and Sam's baby was due at the end of this month.

Tonight after Bible study, I had a message from my brother. I haven't spoken to my brother since June when I found out they were expecting and certainly not since I had my talk with Susie. I don't know where they are living or what they are doing. But tonight, my brother, his voice full of pride, called to tell me that I was an aunt and that his son "had everything he should have and nothing he shouldn't". The baby (between the answering machine and the cell phone, I couldn't catch the name, but it wasn't Bocephus Boudreaux) weighed 6 pounds, 14 ounces and was 19 and a half inches long.

And my brother told me that he loved me. Lily has prayed for Sam and Susie and their baby for months now. I am ashamed to admit that I have not been as faithful. I called him back and got his voice mail, but I told him how proud I was and happy for them and to let me know how I could help.

I'm hoping there is restoration in that relationship.

The Root of It All....

I've been following a very interesting discussion on Tom's blog and rather than muddle his blog, I'll post my thoughts here.

I never thought it made any difference. Christian or non-Christian. You decide how many children you want and then you have that many (God willing, of course). Once your perfect family is complete, use any number of available birth control methods to ensure (to the best of your ability) that you don't have any more except through God's divine intervention or forgetfulness. I never thought that one birth control method would be better or worse than another and I never thought how those various methods actually worked either. I only thought that they prevented pregnancy in varying states of permanence and that was the point. At least, it was the only thing I was interested in.

I have always thought that 2 children were plenty. I came from a family with 2 children. I had less fear of a total uprising with an equivalent number of parents and children. We would have an even number of people for rides at Astroworld (which I realize is now deceased). We would have no middle child and thus, no middle child syndrome...everything would be even. (Although, to be completely honest, nothing in my family has ever been even or equal.)

Brian has always had his heart set on 3. He comes from a family of 3 sons and so this seems like a perfect number to him.

And the debate continues. Brian is wise in that he knows not to push me on any particular issue. Pushing any issue will only cause me to run at breakneck speed to the other side. However, time continues to show that I usually come to where I need to be. Cases in point: breastfeeding, being a stay-at-home mom and homeschooling.

I am beginning to see the problem in all this...my feminism. If you had asked me 15 years ago what the course of my life was going to be...it wasn't going to be as a wife and mother. I saw no importance in that whatsoever. Of course, part of that thinking was due to the fact that I strongly believed that I would never find anyone to marry me and that I had been told it was very unlikely that I would ever have children.

I was taught that you had to depend on yourself and be able to take care of yourself.

When I heard men talking about not using birth control, I would get my nose way out of joint. Women, not that I heard very many in my social circle talking about unlimited children, I just thought were nuts. At least the women would actually be carrying the child and taking care of it instead of issuing a directive while going off to the office and talking to people who can talk back.

When I told my mother that Brian wanted 3 and I only wanted 2, she confirmed what I was thinking. He wasn't the one that was going to have to carry it and have it and take care of it. So he didn't get a vote.

And that's the way I was raised and that is the way I think, initially at gut-reaction level. It is my decision how many children to have or whether to work or to homeschool or even to have pink carpet.

Biblically, I know my role is to be the heart of the home. To take care of my husband and my children. To be Brian's helper. Some days I like doing that. Some days, I'd like to leave and never come back. And on those days, I wonder...what about me? I didn't finish college and I still have some aspirations of finishing. Sometimes it makes me feel like a failure. I don't have something that's just mine. Everything I have, I have to share. I wonder if I would have the same selfish attitude to overcome if being able to "take care of myself" hadn't been drilled into my head for as long as I can remember.

With that selfish attitude on my role in this family, is the selfish attitude that I don't want any more of God's blessings, thank you very much. Two are just fine with me. I am just starting to realize how ridiculous that sounds. Why in the world would I want to tell God to keep His blessings? There is no wisdom in that statement. Don't get me wrong, I have good worldly reasons. We are living in a 900 square foot apartment! I have plenty of good reasons to not want more children. I am being convicted HARD CORE on two levels that this way of thinking is wrong, wrong, wrong. One level is the form of birth control we are using. We both feel that this is wrong. This has been on my heart for a while. I have started reading 2 books that addressed this topic in one fashion or another and when I read that part, I put the book back on the shelf. Nope. Not interested in hearing that.

And the second, well, that's the trust issue. I feel like we need to trust God that He will give or not give us what we can handle. I feel certain it says that somewhere in the Bible. Frankly, it's a very simple point, as points go. You know, let God do His thing. One thing that we've been able to tie this to is our feeling of debt and letting God take care of those needs.

Brian and I feel very strongly about not going into any further debt. When we were getting ready to sell the house, we were in a big hurry and had to get a lot of things done that we had intended to get done over time. People were starting to want their money. I told Brian that we needed to get a loan so that we could take care of these immediate needs and then pay off the balance when the house sold. Brian said "no" and we put our faith in God instead of Wells Fargo and everything was taken care of. Only one company asked to be paid at a time. Brian got the moving allowance way ahead of schedule. All these little things happened so that we were able to honor our commitments.

Now. God wants us to put our trust and faith in Him, in all things. In fact, I'm sure I read somewhere that "without faith, it is impossible to please God." He also says things like, "Fear not" and that He will supply all our needs according to His riches in glory. I guess the question is....are we going to trust in God or trust in ourselves? I feel like God is telling me to trust in Him on this particular issue that He's hammering on me. His ways are not our ways and our ways are not His ways. And Brian's thinking is basically, look twice at whatever you're doing that the world agrees with...

My next hot topic is going to be....Should we encourage (or pay for) our daughters to go to college?

Clarification

I need to clarify a few points...so that we all have the right idea.

Whether or not commenters were speaking out of love, I felt no love. Period. I felt attacked and condemned. I felt like an innocent question asked in a safe environment was made very hostile. With love, I would think that someone might have asked what in the world happened that made me go this way. Instead, I felt browbeat and punch drunk from all the "love". So, to those of you that were acting in "love" you may want to work on your delivery.

Yes, I am struggling with this. Absolutely. I needed some encouragement because, to be completely transparent...no one out here homeschools. I did not want to be a pioneer and I thought if no one out here homeschools, then there must be a reason for it. The strongest Christians that we know send their kids to public school. We have been told that there are many, many Christians in key roles in the school district. The support groups in this area are disorganized at best. And it would be much easier. But I do not feel useless as a mother and I am fully aware of what my calling is. Let me further point out for the whole group: no one has "drug" me into the idea of homeschooling or drug me out. I have always had my own mind and that will continue to be so.

We are very thankful for friends who have shared their experiences with us. But sometimes it's okay to use a gentle hand. Especially when you think you know someone's heart.