Part 3-Our Quiver, Or What The Lord Has Done

We were finally allowed back to our house after Hurricane Rita, but it wasn't liveable and wouldn't be for months and months. I was a stay-at-home mom with a toddler and a newborn feeling both out of place and in the way, living in a garage apartment belonging to kind friends. I was withdrawn, sad and depressed.

Before moving into the apartment, we had spent 2 weeks with our friend in Houston and another 3 weeks living with my in-laws, soaking up their hospitality. Thankfully, Darcy was an easy baby. Unlike Lily, when Darcy ate in the middle of the night (after the first few days), she did so easily and went back to sleep quickly. We were so hyperfocused on our housing crisis, that we didn't have much time or energy for infants requiring much attention.

After life settled a bit and I was able to contact my doctor, I had an IUD inserted. I needed birth control that would work without any interference from me. I had found out the hard way what happens if you miss a few pills. I asked my doctor for a recommendation and the Mirena IUD is what she suggested. Brian and I read the phamphlet and decided that this would be good. I was in no way prepared for the pain of having it inserted. It was excruciating and I wondered if the thing was ever going to get in. But once it was in, it was wonderful. I loved it. I never gave a thought as to how it worked, and frankly, I didn't care. I just didn't want any more kids. Ever, really. I just hadn't convinced Brian of it yet.

We were finally able to move back into our house and we were so thrilled. We had had new wood flooring put in, and our kitchen completely remodeled. There was brand new living room furniture and new bedroom furniture. The end result was really, really nice. Brian had done much of the work himself late at night and on weekend, and there was much blood, sweat and tears in it.

Six weeks of finally being home after 6 months of being gone, Brian gets a call. They want him to go to school to become a nuclear inspector and move...up to the Metroplex.

Part 2-Our Quiver, Or What The Lord Has Done

The first days of being a stay-at-home mom were a trial by fire. I was not good at it and I didn't enjoy it. I was not bathed. I did not cook. I did no laundry and did not clean. I struggle through pregnancy and could barely manage to haul myself around. I did not go anywhere. I was miserable.

Despite the bleeding, the baby was doing well. I was getting big and uncomfortable and desperately wanted Brian to agree that we could stop. I thought 2 girls 15 months apart was a sign from God To.Stop.

During this pregnancy was the first time I ever heard anyone talk about not using birth control and letting God determine the size of a family. I thought that was lunacy. Just complete and total stupidity. What kind of stupid, half-baked man's idea was that? I was just sure those remarks had come from a man; no woman I knew would think up something that asinine. And even if she did, it was her body to be ridiculous with if she wanted. I was so pissed off about the very idea of it, that I couldn't even be rational.

Darcy was born during the evacuation from Hurricane Rita. In another hospital and by another doctor. After a few days in Wichita Falls and then 2-3 more in Bryan/College Station, we were invited to stay with a friend in Houston until we could get back home permanently. It was just he and his wife, and she was working overseas so he was all alone rambling in their big, lovely home. We accepted, arriving on a Tuesday. Tuesday night found me in the ER with contractions 5 minutes apart and no way to get in touch with my doctor. I already had a C-section scheduled for Friday (didn't look like that was going to be happening) so the on-call doctor agreed to put me on her schedule for Thursday morning.

We had nothing for a baby except the carrier. Brian had the foresight to go by and pick up the carrier we had lent on our way out of town. I know that was God, not Brian. Brian's strong suit is not in those types of details. That is my area and being so overwhelmed with everything else, it never occured to me to get it because it never occured to me that we might need it. We stayed with our friend for over 2 weeks. It was very difficult knowing that we were imposing on him, but so very grateful to recover in a home, instead of a hotel, our other option.

After 3 weeks of being gone, we were finally able to return home and deal with the mess that was our house.

Unlike Lily, Darcy was born without any problems at all. I was told by both sets of grandparents and Brian that she did something the baby nurse had never seen in 25 years of nursing: she pushed up on her arms and picked up her head and looked around. As soon as I was brought into recovery, she was brought in to nurse. Like Lily, she latched on immediately and ate well. This is a picture of me in the recovery room, holding her for the first time. Yes, I am aware I look scary and my hair is a train wreck.

Part 1-Our Quiver, Or What The Lord Has Done For Me

I find it so fascinating to compare where my life has been to the place where I am going. The Lord is doing mighty things to me and for me, and subsequently, to and for my family. This is not the first time I have touched on this topic of childbearing. I originally discussed it nearly 2 years ago, but my views have changed from even that perspective. Previous post here.

(I keep typing and deleting and typing and deleting. As much as I want to simplify and focus on one issue at a time, I just can't. It is not just one issue for me. It is multi-faceted and it seems impossible to separate them.)

After years of believing that something like this would never happen, miracle of miracles, I found someone who wanted to marry me and have children. And I was able to have children, which was contrary to medical information I had received as a teenager. Not only was I able, but together, Brian and I were so fertile, we had 2 children within 15 months of each other and before we had been married 3 years.

Lily, our oldest, was born 3 weeks early via a scheduled C-section after the doctor gave me the option of being induced and attempting a normal delivery or a section. Multiple ultrasounds indicated that she was well in the 9 pound or more range and there may have been some question as to my ability to get her out. I didn't see the need to go through hours and hours of labor just to have a section in the end. I opted to cut the middle man.

Knowing that the number of children most doctors believe I could safely deliver would now be limited to 4 because of that decision, would not have affected that decision. Realizing that choosing a section would more than likely mean I would always deliver by C-section, would not have changed that decision. I was not misinformed. Having the information would not have changed my mind at that time. It is only recently after honest reflection of my heart and secret motives, then and now, that I am able to see things more clearly.

I refuse to feel guilty or believe I made a "sinful" or "bad" choice. I will allow that I didn't make the "best" choice because I allowed fear to motivate me and there are consequences in that decision. Both good and bad consequences. I had a beautiful, healthy baby who weighed nearly 10 pounds, 3 weeks early. She is still a blessing from God, no matter how she got out or how many follow her.

While I didn't feel a conviction about my C-section, it was after dragging myself to the NICU and seeing my precious daughter for the first time (the next day) and hearing of all her problems over subsequent days, that the Lord began to change my heart toward breastfeeding. That is something only He could have done. Jesus Christ Himself could have come down from heaven and told me it was better for the baby and I would have politely told Him I didn't care. I thought nursing was gross and I didn't want any part of it...I didn't care how good it was for the baby or who thought it was a good idea. I was not going to do it. Period. But after seeing my little daughter in the NICU with this problem and that problem and feeling inadequate to help her, waiting for experts to tell us the next thing to do or expect, I made the decision to give nursing a try. The neonatalogist had come to speak to me and tell me how the baby was doing and asked me if I was going to breastfeed. She suggested that I get a pump and try it, and if I didn't like it, I could stop. How freeing to me! I didn't have to sign on for life...just try it. In my mind, I began to wonder how I could keep something from her that might help just because I thought it was gross.

The first time I pumped, I felt like a humiliated fraud. For nine months, I had vehemently denied that any child of mine would have access to this chest and here I was, attached to a real live milking machine. I was surprised the first time I actually nursed her. None of the many, many, many breastfeeding advocates I'd come across told me it was going to feel like I was attached to a bear trap. How could something with no teeth hurt me so much? Lucky for Lily, she was a champion feeder because I gave her 10 seconds to figure it out or I was done trying. it took her 2. I nursed her for 4 months which was 4 months longer than I intended the day she hatched. The Lord was good to me knowing my heart on the matter. I have heard many mothers tell of trouble breastfeeding and the hurt and agony and inadequacy when they are unable. The Lord made it easy on me. She latched on quickly and well and He gave me so much milk, I could have fed the whole nursery. What a blessing.

Darcy was conceived after I missed 2-3 birth control pills while tending to Lily who, at 6 months old, was hospitalized for RSV.

What a shock. I was a working mom, and I loved working. But, the older Lily got, the more we talked about my staying home. I wanted to be there when she was sick. (And since she was in daycare, it seemed like she was sick all the time.) I didn't trust Brian to take her to the doctor and get all my questions answered. The part I really hated was the smell of other women on my baby. Except staying home just didn't seem possible. Early in my pregnancy with Baby#2, I started bleeding and was put on bedrest until the bleeding stopped. No one knew how long that might be. That was my first day as a stay-at-home mom. The bleeding stopped the day after I quit my job. I cried for most of the next 9 months.

Hesitant

I want to put forth my thoughts on the quiverful thinking, but my thoughts don't and won't just stop there. They spill over into many areas and to cover it well, I think I have to tell my story, and I'm hesitant to do that.

I'd have to explain my original thoughts concerning children.

I'd have to explain how it feels to have a broken nurturer.

I might have to explain my newfound freedom in trusting God and knowing there is nothing rational about that.

There would be a lot to explain...and I'm more than hesitant. I'm scared. I'm scared to put everything out there to be judged or condemned by whomever might pass by.

But maybe it's necessary? Maybe it would help?

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?

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?