Garrett's Birth Story

It has been awhile since I've posted anything. I keep meaning to post more and journal more so that my family and friends from afar know what's new with my growing family. It turns out I'm much better at photojournalling-- which I enjoy immensely. 

I thought it may be appropriate to share Garrett's Birth Story for those of you who are curious.  Many of you know that Jenni's birth was difficult and many of your were praying that this birth would go better. Therefore, I feel it is appropriate to share that all of our prayers were graciously answered!

So just a little disclaimer. .. this is a birth story. Please remember that birth is earthy and if you have a weak stomach, you may want to skip this read. For the rest of you, thanks for reading and for your interest.  Thank you for your prayers, love, and support. This pregnancy was especially difficult and I would not have made it through but for the grace of God.  I strongly believe that God uses difficult situations especially in my life to grow me. If you know me at all,  you know I'm stubborn and strong willed but I am certainly no match for our Maker. He definitely brought me to my knees this past year and I'm thankful for it. 

For those of you that don't know, pregnancy is not easy for me. (Of course,  I am thankful that I can grow life within me at all). With Jenni, I had morning and evening sickness until 18 weeks followed by gestational hypertension and was almost preeclamtic.  I do have a blog post about her birth story in case you're interested. With Garrett, I also had morning sickness and nausea until 18 weeks. I also got the stomach flu pretty badly around then. Thankfully, Jenni dodged that bullet but with the morning sickness and the flu,  I actually lost weight. Garrett of course took what he needed and was growing beautifully. In May after a surprise trip to MI, I was hospitalized with viral meningitis. 

The hospitalization for meningitis was probably one of the most difficult things I have ever experienced. I think the thing that really helped me get through this scary situation was obviously prayer but the thought of my child. I was so focused on keeping my child healthy that I didn't have time to panic. I still to this day don't think I really grasped the gravity of that situation. It really could have been very dangerous.

I'll briefly share about that scary weekend. I am prone to migraines.  I thought I was going to bed with the beginning of a migraine that night. I took some Sudafed and Tylenol and planned to sleep it off. I remember being thankful that it was time to go to bed for that reason.  As the night went on, my headache got worse. It started in my forehead and temples and progressed down the front of my face and up the back of my head up to the appex. This was the worst headache I have ever experienced. I just thought it was a migraine until I felt feverish. I had actually called the nurse earlier in the week to confirm that Sudafed was safe during pregnancy and she reminded me that if my temperature went higher than 100.4 to call right away. And so I did. And I'm glad I did. I went right into labor and delivery.  Immediately,  they monitored the baby and found that his heart rate was very high and too consistent. They want baby's heart rate to accelerate and decelerate because that shows good oxygen intake. I was admitted. We did a CT scan of my head to rule out a bad sinus infection. The reason for this was because I was missing two symptoms of meningitis --dizziness and severe pain  to put chin to chest. Once a sinus infection was ruled out, we did a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia.  I had come into contact with someone who had walking pneumonia during my travels.  They were suspecting meningitis after that was ruled out. In order to confirm meningitis,  a spinal tap or lumbar puncture had to be performed.  That was the most scared I have ever been in my life.  By this time, I had been placed on isolation. No one could come visit me. I had to go through this alone, save for the nursing staff. I was told to lay on my side and roll into a ball. That is difficult when you're 25 weeks pregnant but I managed. They did an ultrasound on my spine to figure out exactly where to puncture. They punctured before the area was numb and they missed! First of all  it was extremely painful and secondly, my left leg was involuntarily kicking. All the while, I'm trying to keep my silence because of the pain and the doctor is telling me to keep still! I said, I can't! You're hitting my leg! So they took out the needle and tried again. I finally spoke up about the pain and they gave me more numbing medicine. It took them about 3-4 tries before my leg stopped kicking and they got what they needed. This was still my first day in the hospital and I had kept it together emotionally but after that LP, I lost it. I can't remember exactly at what point I called my pastor to ask for prayers but I did. I can't believe I kept it together for that phone call. Anyway, after they take the samples of spinal fluid, they wait to see if bacteria will grow on them to see if the meningitis is bacterial or viral. Until they knew for sure, they put me on antibiotics and tried to get my fever down. They graciously waited until after they knew the baby was safe and my fever had broken to tell me they were no longer considering early delivery.  I spent Saturday to Tuesday in the hospital.  I was released once they knew it was not bacterial. It was nice to see faces again. Peter and Jenni did come visit me on Sunday. Jenni was very put off by the whole situation.  She instinctively knew something was wrong. She cried when  she saw me. It was heartbreaking. And what a difference when  she came to visit me when  Garrett was born! She was shy but happy.

At 30 weeks,I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Admittedly,  I was very angry. I thought, well,  what else are you going to throw at me, God? And why? Why is this necessary?

Oh He showed me! Trust. Trust. Trust. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  I was forced onto a diet I had been researching for months. It worked out great,  actually.

So now you know how we made it to 40 weeks. For 10 weeks, I had Non Stress Tests (NSTs) twice a week. If you don't know, gestational diabetes is caused by hormones in the placenta blocking the mother's insulin.  If left unmonitored, the baby could be born hypoglycemic.  In rare cases, it could be so bad, the baby could seize and even die. Also, during pregnancy,  the placenta could stop working at any time. Hence the NSTs and strict diet. I learned all of this from my doctors and midwives. One of my midwives was quite stern with me to help me grasp the gravity of the situation and why diet and exercise in this condition were so important.

Another risk with gestational diabetes is a large baby. I kept reminding my doctor that I'm a Dutch girl with a Dutch husband... we are going to have bigger babies. I'm convinced that anything over 7 lbs is big to them.  I was also hoping for a vbac and so keeping Baby at a healthy weight would help me achieve this goal. I would not be allowed to go full term. I was scheduled to be induced at 39weeks, 5days.

It was  a Friday.  I had tried to get as much sleep as I could Thursday night. I wanted my strength up. I was to call one hour before my appointment to make sure they had room for me. As they did not have room for me at that time, I was told to call back in a few hours. When I did call, they told me they would call me. I anxiously sat by the phone all day. I was extremely uncomfortable.  I had a lot of round ligament pain. I was ready to meet my new son  or daughter.  We decided to go out for dinner since I had not prepared anything for that evening. I had expected to be in labor. So we went to Matsumi in Ripon. We thought that as soon as we did something, we would get the call. That's how things usually work, right? Well not so this time. We went to a friend's house to get out of the house. I ended up calling the nurse around 7:30 pm to set a cut off time. I was not about to be called in to be induced at 3am. They said there was no way there would be any openings anymore that evening. Come at 8am and call at 7am to confirm. I am sorry to those of you who knew I was scheduled for Friday and waited anxiously thinking I had been in labor!

Saturday morning. This was it. We dropped Jenni off at a friend's house. It took us from 8am to 1pm to get settled, sign the appropriate paperwork, have all the blood drawn, and finally, get doctor's orders for induction. During that time, a midwife met with me to confirm I  really wanted to attempt a vbac (vaginal birth after cesarean section). She told me point blank and rather frankly that I was a terrible candiadate. My previous experience with gestational hypertension and now with gestational diabetes put me at risk. Also, my risk for uterine rupture had doubled, not to mention my odds of having a larger baby were higher. Basically what she was saying is there was a very real risk that the baby and/or I could die in this experience. She said the safer option was a c section. Now, I was really second guessing myself at this point. She was a midwife, after all. Midwives as a general rule would rather see me have a natural birth and avoid surgery. I told her I would give what she said some thought. The OB had a similar opinion but surprisingly wasn't as forceful towards surgery. How I came to my decision to continue with a vbac was that I had already been praying about this for weeks and months. I think I had the confidence that God would protect me and my child. And He did because here we are.

My labor began at 130pm. I had begun dilated at 2cm. I had been having contractions and didn't know it all week to get to this point. My labor is pretty chill until my water breaks. They gradually started increasing my pitocin. Apparently pitocin is indeed the drug they can use to induce labor during gestational diabetes but there are other drugs they may not use. At some point, there was a shift change and a new midwife and OB came on. I was so happy to see that the midwife who had delivered Jenni was on. Her name is also Jennie.  She jokes about how we named our daughter after her and I'm OK with that. She's a special lady. It made me feel much more at ease to have at least one person I recognized go thru this again. When I reached 5cm at about 3 or 4pm, Jennie was ready to break my water. The epidural was offered. Now, I knew that the anesthesiologist was busy elsewhere and I thought that I'd be OK for awhile without the epidural. Oh my word, was I wrong. I totally didn't take into account that my body would release more hormones in addition to the pitocin and those labor pains were no joke. As soon as my water was broken, the REAL contractions started. The other ones were just fake. I was standing and walking and even kind of "dancing" to pass the time. (I was jamming to Nate Ruess -- Grand Romantic.) I couldn't even stand with these contractions and had to do the whole breathing ritual to endure them. Ugh, I felt like such a wimp!

Finally, the anesthesiologist came in. This kind of brought back a bit of the anxiety from the spinal tap I had had a few months prior. I kept reminding myself that I would be receiving pain relief from this poke. The added complication (I mean in my mind ) was having to stay completely still for the administration of the catheter. I had done this before with Jenni. I could do it again. However, these contractions were much more forceful given that I was having a labor inducing drug pumped through my veins at this point. And to add to it, the estimated 30 minutes it should have taken  for the epidural to kick in was in actuality. .. 45-50 minutes. When you're watching the clock for timing contractions so that you can prepare yourself for the next wave of pain, you tend to notice these things.

Fast forward a few hours, active labor, still experiencing back pain even with the epidural.  At some point, the shift changed again and I got a new nurse. Huh, haven't talked about my nurses. I actually requested to not have a nurse. She was my nurse when I was in the hospital for meningitis and I chose not to be her patient again. One of my nurses that I DID have was awesome. She helped me pass the time by chatting and getting to know me. She also told me about herself (which I liked because I feel strange about one ended conversations ) and that distracted me from the pain I was still experiencing. After her, I had a nurse that I had when I had meningitis.  It was weird seeing her face because when she had taken care of me previously, she had to wear a mask. But she remembered me and again, it was comforting to have another person I was familiar with to get this baby out of me. Birth is such a personal thing. By the end of it, I have no shame. They've seen it all and all of me by the end of it. 

Since I was experiencing so much back pain, we tried different positions to relieve it. We rolled me onto my left side. That did not feel right. AT ALL. Baby's heart rate dropped suddenly. I felt just totally wrong and he rolled inside me in a oddly painful way. It just felt like I needed to roll back in the worst way. So she gave me oxygen to get his heart rate up again. After a few minutes, we tried the right side and the same thing happened. He was rolled inside me in the wrong way and his heart rate dropped. I was really scared. I thought for a minute I was going to lose him. The heart rate was dangerously low and the nurse even seemed nervous. I was on oxygen for about 30 minutes and that's when she came back and told me we could relax -- the baby's heart rate had returned to the normal range with the healthy accelerations they like to see. Sigh of relief.

Peter was in and out all day long. It was a huge waiting game and I couldn't make him just stay with me the entire time. We arrived at the hospital at 8am and Garrett was not born until 325am ... I just told him to go do his thing. I know that he was feeling a little bit impatient but I kept reminding him "hours versus weeks". I could "end it all" whenever I wanted but I was not willing to go thru the 8 week recovery again just because we were tired of waiting. (And believe me, I was getting just as impatient if not more... I was so uncomfortable). After I received the epidural, I asked him to stay around because it seemed that the contractions were getting worse and that I was progressing much more quickly. I believe I was complete around midnight or 1230am. The nurses checked me and I was told to just wait until the baby engaged.

Well, what does that mean? I never felt that with Jenni. They asked if I was ready to push and I said yes so I started to push.  In retrospect, I think I wasn't ready to push but I didn't know any different. I think that's part of the reason her delivery ended the way it did -- my own inexperience. All I knew during this labor was that the epidural was not taking away my back pain. I kept clicking that button and it did not help. At least I was not doing my breathing ritual at this time to get through my contractions. Of course, feeling contractions during labor is necessary,  in my opinion. I could not feel my contractions with Jenni and therefore had nothing to push against. Around 130am, my contractions started to get really painful, even with the epidural.  I was nigh unto tears and I didn't know what to do because I figured there was nothing to be done. I was in labor. Peter was curled up on the couch (I say curled up because the poor guy was too tall for the thing) and asleep. I didn't want to bother him. Also, I'm the type of person who internalizes  (if that's a word) when I'm in pain. I like to be left alone almost because no one else is experiencing the pain and most of the time, no one can help. At 2am, I decided that I could not take it anymore. I was sweating and crying from back pain. I called the nurse and she checked me. Apparently this is what it feels like for the baby to engaged because it was time to start pushing.  She started turning all the lights on and getting me positioned. She called the doctor and midwife and assisting nurses. I had to wake up Peter.  I did not like that because he did not like that. Even if it was the birth of his child, I think he would rather have slept. Too bad. Pushing sucks and I needed the support.  Literally, I needed his support. I started pushing at 240am. The nurse kept telling me "like a BIG POOP!". Ok, I get it but I'd rather not end up with hemorrhoids again so... yeah. 

I remember feeling like a champion this time. With Jenni,  I just wanted to quit. The entire time. This time, I was cautiously optimistic but for some reason, I felt like a champion. I kept up with 3 pushes per contraction at first and then upped it to as many as I could handle per contraction. My nursing team and midwife were present and kept me encouraged. I was on and off oxygen towards the end. Truth be told, I don't remember why. It may have been to keep Baby's heart rate accelerations going.  I was in a bit of denial when they said that I was doing it and that I was progressing. And then they saw the head.  Now, I know I had medication but the way that Garrett was engaged, it felt like it was not helping one bit. I just kept going because I kind of had a point to prove. I was not going to end up in the OR this time. And it appeared to be working! Peter told me recently that in hushed tones while I was pushing, the staff was saying it wasn't going to happen. Well not in my mind!

When they said they could see Garrett's head, they started asking questions like, "do you want a mirror?" Or, "do you want to feel the head?" That's a no from me.  I will admire my baby when they come out, thank you. It was just adding to the excitement when the midwife said, "Oh, Baby is a Blondie!"

I can't help but feel like this entire time was a blur. I was tired and excited. I just remember working hard. On oxygen between contractions, off to push. Because I didn't want the mirror or to feel his head, my midwife told me I was going to pull him out. I was going to catch my baby! I was really nervous because I knew he was going to come out slimey and slippery but I was really excited because I DID THIS. And so at 325am, I caught my son. I pulled him up to my heart and cried. He was (and is) beautiful. We were between two names but we both looked at our strong boy and knew the right name was Garrett (which means strong or strength).

My favorite part was hearing Peter call our family members and tell them how proud he was of me. I had just proved a lot of people wrong. I had quite the audience when Garrett was born -- first because he was a surprise baby and second because they all had to see if I would succeed. The energy in that room when he was born was high! I remember everyone cheering, congratulating me, but also giving me space to bond with my newborn son.

He was in perfect health. He just didn't cry hard enough and that was a little but concerning. So the baby nurse took him for a bit to the other side of the room to get him to cry and make sure his airways were 100% clear. Then he came back to me.

He was not great nursing right away so between starting with nursing and the post labor cramps... That was painful. I remember always just looking down at him and feeling so proud. I think I felt a little bit of guilt because I was so proud of his birth and so "ashamed" of Jenni's birth. Of course, I love her but it was an interesting sensation first to be so excited that I successfully pushed Garrett out naturally but then to feel bad about it because I wasn't able to do it the first time.

Post partum is just such an interesting time emotionally. You have all the emotions of excitement because you just gave birth and gave life to another little human who is completely dependent on you. That is so profound to me. But there is also the depression. I don't know how to explain that. I am just being honest that to some extent with both of my children, there was a certain amount of depression following each birth. For me, it wasn't very concerning because I'm familiar with that particular kind of hormonal imbalance in myself. But it is very real. I feel for the women who have had it much more severely than I have experienced. The thing anout hormonal depression is that it is somewhat uncontrollable and a lot times you can't explain why you're sad... You just are. It did pass after Garrett much more quickly than it did for Jenni. Funny thing is, after Garrett, all I wanted to do was MOVE to MI! I did get over that. I love my home. I love my family.

It has taken me 8 months to finish this story. Most of the reason is because having two kids is busy! Some of the reason is because it was emotional. I do know that my perspective has not changed: Good is the Lord and full of kind compassion. He is faithful especially when I am not. I still tear up when I think about that long weekend in the hospital with meningitis. But I also think about where I've been and where I'm going and how God has led me each step of the way and how He is still leading me. May He be forever praised and glorified.

Identity Crisis

It has been almost a year since my last blog post. Every time I came back to write a new post, I would get hung up on my last post (Jenni's birth story) and would end up in tears and writer's block. No more. I think the last year has made me a stronger woman.

Recently, I started journaling again. My intention is to have an outlet to write my thoughts that no one necessarily needs to know. It got me thinking about blogging again. I really enjoy writing and I have had quite a few things on my mind that I feel are worth sharing.

I have been reflecting over the last year. It has been the hardest and best year of my life. I LOVE being a mom, in case you can't tell. But to be honest, it comes with its own set of challenges and trials. The one that has been crossing my mind a lot is the problem of identity.

Things are about to get personal. Consider yourself warned.

I just need to share what has been on my heart for the past few months. I have been hung up on losing weight and how I look. I have changed my diet and tried quite a few exercise plans and it seems that there has been little to no change. When I think about how my baby will be a year old and I still have almost all of my baby weight, my heart sinks. No, I would not trade my baby girl for ANYTHING. Not even to be my prebaby weight. Yes, my husband loves me for me and I am so blessed. But it is disheartening to look in the mirror every day and see what I don't want to see. It is shocking to see myself on YouTube walking from the piano to the pew and think, "wow, that's how people see me?". It is frustrating to be uncomfortable in my own skin. 
Please don't think that this is because I'm vain. I would just like to be my former self. It seems to me that most women get pregnant, have their baby, and promptly lose the weight. And that's not the case for me.

You may have guessed that this has absolutely consumed me. It consumed me so much that I really got back into makeup. Understand that makeup to me is an art. But for awhile it was quite the obsession. I figured that if I could not control my weight, I could at least have a pretty face. Thankfully, the obsession is over. I still very much enjoy doing makeup but in all the right ways now. I have once again embraced my inner and natural beauty.

Isn't this a struggle for everyone? It may not be how you look or how much you weigh. Everyone has something. It is an identity crisis. Only recently I discovered how incredibly selfish I have been by obsessing over all of this. The world doesn't revolve around me. I'm a grown woman. I am a wife to a wonderful husband. I am a mother to a beautiful daughter. She is the reason I look the way I do and not everyone gets to experience the joy of motherhood. Not everyone gets to experience life growing from within. Perhaps there is a woman out there who is hurting because she will never have that privilege.

My focus shouldn't be on what I weigh or what I look like. Ultimately, that doesn't matter. It is fleeting. My focus should be on being a Christlike, godly wife and loving mother. What will matter is that I have accepted the Gospel (by way of the Holy Spirit) and that I have shared it with my children. My identity isn't in who I am or what I look like but in Christ.

Consider this. The scene is God's throne room. Joshua, the High Priest, stands before God. Satan is also there to accuse him. God rebukes Satan. "Don't you know that I have chosen him?" Joshua is clothed in filthy garments. God orders these garments away and tells Joshua that he has had his sin taken away and that he will have new clothes. He is given a fine turban and fine garments and also a place in God's courts.

Isn't this a beautiful picture of what Christ has done? I was clothed in the filthy rags of my sin. God took away those rags, my sin, and gave them to Jesus to bear. In turn, I have been given the pure white garments of Jesus' perfect acts. In God's eyes, it is just as I have never sinned nor been a sinner.

God SEES me. He sees what I look like. Do you know what He sees? He sees a child of the King who is clothed in the works of Christ. I have been accepted and I am now an heir. These clothes are the best clothes to wear. They fit me perfectly.

I know that my comfort in life and in death is that I BELONG both BODY and soul to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all of my sins.

Jenni's Birth Story

I have had quite a few people ask about my birth story. I really don't mind to share but I do want to be clear that as it is a birth story, it contains birth and the earthy details. What I'm saying is that if you find the details of birth to be TMI, don't read any further! Also, it's very personal! Again, I am happy to share to those who are interested, but if you're not really that interested, read no further.

I decided to write a post about this because it really is getting old repeating the story over and over again. It's long! So with this being your last chance to turn back, here's our story.

On Saturday, July 12, it seemed like any other Saturday. We hung out by the pool, had friends over, ran errands, etc. Peter had been predicting this day for months. He said that it was possible the full moon could put me into labor. At this point in the pregnancy, I was begging God to allow Peter to be right. I was very swollen, on watch for preeclampsia and just kind of miserable in general. I kept praying that He would just allow my water to break so that there would be no doubt and I could hold my baby.

This was the Saturday that Nicole had left for convention and also the Saturday before my due date. We decided to go to SaveMart to get some groceries for the week and get pizza for dinner and a RedBox to have a date night. We thought maybe it would be our last chance to have a date night before Baby was born. It just so happens that we were right. At this point, I was already dialated to a 4. My doctor had predicted that I would not make it to my due date. We got home from running our errands. I had felt very uncomfortable while we were walking in the store. We got home about 7 and sat down to watch our movie (Monuments Men) and eat pizza. That's when the contractions started. In my opinion, Peter may have been in denial that it was possible I was having contractions. At the same time, he kept saying, "I told you! It's a full moon!".

I remember the contractions feeling a lot stronger than any others I had had. I had had some before which my doctor had said had gotten me to a 4 to begin with. They continued throughout the movie. I timed them, walked around, hydrated. I was trying to mentally prepare myself for what was happening and what would happen. I was excited, scared, but mostly excited. I was so incredibly uncomfortable as I have mentioned before. It was the beginning of the end. After an hour and a half had passed, I called Labor and Delivery to see what to do next. I had followed the 5-1-1 rule. I had packed my hospital bag. I was ready. The nurse told me to keep walking around and hydrating. She told me to call back in an hour. The only reason she didn't have me come in right away I think was because I could still talk through my contractions. I compared them to bad menstral cramps. And believe me, these weren't bad. I have had cramps so bad I've passed out. These contractions weren't that bad. But they were every 3-5 minutes for over an hour. After speaking with the nurse, I went to take a shower and pack some last minute things for the hospital. Peter installed the car seat and made sure I drank water. I was so concerned about the timing, I honestly have no idea what was going through Peter's mind. The extra hour passed and I called the nurse back who told me to come in.

We arrived at Kaiser at around 10:15pm. We went in through the ER. We had no idea where to go other than through the ER. The triage was dealing with another person so we waited in line. Then a woman noticed us and asked if we were here to visit or if we were there for L&D. Obviously L&D. But she didn't know. She took us through the short cut. That was nice of her. The nurse who I had spoken to on the phone couldn't believe how quickly we had gotten there. She had me change into a gown and give a urine sample. Then she had me hooked up to a monitor to monitor the baby's heart rate and my contractions. She confirmed that I was having contractions but I could tell she didn't think they were very strong. After awhile, I met the midwife and RN on call. The midwife gave me a cervical exam. I HATE CERVICAL EXAMS. They seriously hurt more than any of my strongest contractions. She asked who told me I was a 4. I still wonder who else but my OB could have told me! She performed the exam and confirmed I was a 5. She was surprised. As I'm writing this, I have to remind myself exactly how I felt because this was my first birth. I feeling kind of like OK? Is that good or bad? I'm progressing, right? Should I be here or not? She said that my contractions were not consistent enough and not strong enough. I had wondered at the strength because they felt like menstral cramps but I knew they were contractions. I had timed them. I followed the rules. Why did I feel silly for even being here?

The midwife asked that we walk around for an hour and then she would check me again. We had had a full day already. Our usual bed time during the week and if we don't have plans on the weekend is 9:30pm. She just asked us to take a walk at 11:30pm! Of course I had adrenaline coursing thru my veins but poor Peter was just tired. Anyway, we did our walking around and around the area. We figured out where the on call doctors slept. That's about as exciting as that was. Boring walk. Longest hour to date. When the hour was up, the midwife came back when she had time and performed another exam. This one hurt way worse and I didn't know until the next morning why. I still don't understand why she didn't communicate with me what she was doing. The result of the exam was that I had progressed to a 6 and she wanted to admit me.

And so at 12:30am on Sunday, I was admitted. This would be the beginning of what was to date the longest night of my life. The nurse led us to our birthing suite. She took down my information on the board. The goal was to have a baby. She took samples of blood and urine. I was still being monitored for preeclampsia and they wanted to make sure I wasn't at risk. My blood pressure had been elevated when I came in. To me, that made sense. I was nervous and had adrenaline coursing through my veins. I was hooked up to the monitor again to monitor Baby's heart rate and the rate of my contractions. She suggested that if I wanted to walk, I could but I had to be on the monitor every half hour for a half hour. They needed to have an eye on Baby's heart rate as much as they could. And I walked. And walked. I think I walked miles around those hospital halls trying to get my contractions consistent.

After we were as settled as we could be and my IV line had been put in, I told Peter to go to sleep. There was no sense in both of us being tired for whenever Baby made his/her appearance. For the rest of the night until 4:30am, I walked the halls. It was tiring. It was boring. Each half hour seemed to drag on. My contractions were getting stronger each time as well so I was trying to remain positive about that. For each half hour I was on the monitor, I watched Scrubs on Netflix. It helped pass the time and keep my kind off the growing pain that occuroccured every few minutes. After a few episodes though, it got hard to watch seeing that it's a sitcom that takes place in a hospital.

At 4:30am, I was so tired, I wanted to sleep but the contractions were so strong, there was no way. The thought of sleep had been unthinkable at the beginning of the night. How was I going to be able to sleep now that my contractions were starting to be more consistent? The nurse came to check in on me and asked how I was. So I told her how I was feeling tired and in pain. She offered some medication so that I could get some rest. I discussed with her about what it would do to my contractions. She said I needed rest and I needed to sleep and not to worry. The medication made me drowsy and dizzy so I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

When I woke up, the midwife that had admitted me had come to see how I was doing, check the monitor for Baby's heart rate, my contractions, and my vitals. We looked at how my contractions were finally becoming more consistent and stronger. She then explained to me that she had stripped my membranes. I was taken aback because she had not told me she was doing this at the time so I was kind of annoyed with her. She seemed very pleased with herself. I was just annoyed because she had not communicated with me what she was doing during the last cervical exam. All I knew is it really, really hurt. She asked me if I felt like walking around again and I said I did so I began my ritual again.

Peter was awake when I came back from my first round. We talked about what the midwife had said. I know he thought she talked too loud. After all, he was trying to sleep. We decided that it was good for him to go home, freshen up, and get some breakfast. He promised he would be back before the morning service started. Our church has live stream on YouTube so we could watch the sermon online and not miss it. It was Sunday and I didn't want to miss any of the series. In the morning, we were currently working our way through the book of Exodus. 

Peter went home and I kept walking. Some of the nurses would make comments like, "You're gonna walk the baby right out!". They didn't bother me. In the comments' own weird way, they were kind of encouraging. It's weird but it made me keep going around and around because I didn't know what anyone would say next.

The new midwife and OB on call came in at 8am. I also had a new nurse. When they all came into the room, they asked how I was. The midwife, named Maggie, couldn't believe that I was a 6. She looked at me quizzically. "How are you still talking and walking? Most women who are this far along are in pain and you're just treating this like any Sunday morning.", she said. I just looked at her and said, "I have no idea. This is my first baby. I don't know what's happening." I felt rather silly. I know she was wondering why I was there. I couldn't possibly be in real labor if I wasn't in any excruciating pain at this point. She said that she would come back later to check me again.

Now, she had come back once more after meeting all the new patients. Maggie gave me a cervical exam. Why does it hurt so much when a midwife does it? When an OB did it, it didn't hurt nearly as bad! I was a solid 6 and 80% effaced. She kept saying that my cervix was nice and stretchy. Again, she couldn't believe where I was.  Her concerns were that I had contractions because the day before was hot and I was dehydrated. At this point, she said my contractions were about 10 minutes apart. Not close enough and not strong enough. I was so discouraged to hear this. She was thinking about sending me home. What?! You can't send me home, I thought. There were so many things going through my head. What did I do wrong? Am I supposed to be here? I don't want to go home without a baby. I would feel so foolish if I spent the entire night here and didn't come home without a baby. Not even that, I made PETER spend the entire night here! I remember just praying to God and saying, "What now, Lord? Your will be done, but what now?" 

She gave me more time. I walked the halls some more. Yes, I walked more. I said to my nurse on the ways around that I didn't want to go home. It didn't feel right. How would I know when to come back when "real" labor started? My contractions were so much closer together when I walked -- every 3 or 4 minutes. The more I walked, the stronger they got. My nurse, Chris told me that I needed to be my own advocate and stand up for myself. I needed to voice my concerns to the midwife and tell her how I felt. I kept thinking of all the questions I wanted to ask. 

 Peter came back around 9am and I filled him in. I almost didn't want to admit to him that they were thinking of sending me home. I was so frustrated. I was tired of being pregnant. I was tired of not sleeping. I was tired of being swollen. I told the nurse that I was going to take a longer break from walking this time. I wanted to watch the sermon and I was exhausted from being up all night. Of course, I couldn't keep my mind on the sermon. I was talking with Peter about what had been discussed in his absence. He was very encouraging. Peter is good at encouraging me. He is always so positive when all I can see is the negative. 

Just before 11, Maggie returned. She wanted to see if I had progressed. I was so nervous. If I hadn't progressed, I would essentially have to confront her about letting me stay and what my options were to get this baby out of me. She lowered the bed and I got into position. She did the exam. And then in disbelief, she said, "WOW. You're a 7!" I breathed a sigh of relief. Not only was the exam over but she said she had to keep me now. She said that it may be that I'm not in "real" labor but she was concerned that I wouldn't know when to come back. I was pretty far advanced now. There is no turning back. She had explained earlier that it was possible for the cervix to close up if it wasn't "real" labor. Obviously, I wasn't regressing. She then said she'd like to have my water broken to move things along. She was conservative so she called Dr. Brady, the OB, to get a second opinion. And yet another cervical exam. She said, "Oh yes, you're a 7. Let's break your water.", with no hesitation. She got out this chop stick looking thing and broke my water within the next minute. It went really fast! The feeling of a water breaking is the weirdest feeling I have ever had. Peter said that the mess from that alone was what was keeping him from having a home birth. I can't imagine cleaning up that mess. 

The next few hours, things got real. I had REAL contractions. I was in REAL pain. I had to learn to breathe to get through my pain. I don't remember if I mentioned that I had never made it to a birthing class. I had to learn everything in real time. Obviously, I did alright. I breathed and focused on something other than the pain. At around 2pm, Maggie came back to check things out. Another cervical exam. I was an 8! I was still progressing. She said, "You're having a baby today!" I was so excited! And encouraged! And in pain! The weird thing about contractions though, is that the pain passes for a couple minutes. And then it comes back. And this is the point when I was so sure that it was gradually getting worse and worse. I didn't know how much of the real pain I could handle. I don't know what my pain threshold was. I was always thinking that the standard was being held to the type of pain I had with my gallbladder pain. Of course in this moment, I couldn't even begin to think about that let alone compare it. I think this was worse, except that it did come and go where with my gallbladder pain, it lasted for hours and hours. 

So after thinking about it and some deliberation, I decided that it was time to ask for the epidural before it was too late. They said they could give it to me up to a 9. I was only an 8 so I was still okay to get it. It seemed like it took forever for the anesthesiologist to get there. But seriously, I know that these doctors have other patients to take care of. The world does not revolve around Kelli Sikma as much as sometimes I would like it to. 

 The Anesthesiologist came in. I liked him. I forget his name but he was really good at his job. Peter had wanted to coach me through the process but the doctor said no. He had picked up too many husbands off the ground who thought they could handle it. None of them had as strong of stomachs as they thought.  In case you don't know, I hate needles. I did surprisingly well with this. Most of the reason is because I couldn't see and the other part of the reason is because I had bigger pains happening. So he numbed the area and Chris, my nurse coached me. As it would happen, I had a very strong contraction while he was implementing the epidural. My nurse was awesome. She helped me stay perfectly still. She helped me breathe. She encouraged me. Once was the catheter was inserted, the medication was flowing. 

 Soon after, the drip mechanism malfunctioned. Honestly, I was kind of afraid that the pain was going to start up again and they were going to have to redo the epidural. Of course I was worried about nothing. They fixed it, changed the batteries and we were golden. Or I was. As the anesthesiologist was fixing this, we discussed baseball. We had been keeping track of the Tigers game and I think we were winning. We were talking about sportsmanship and how many sports fans take the game way too seriously. And how in the world did Detroit fans end up in CA? 

 Maggie came and checked on me. She did another cervical exam. She was much more aggressive than before. She admitted that if I did not have the epidural, she would not be doing what she was doing because I would be screaming in pain. She again commented on the stretchiness of my cervix. She was pleased with that. I was an 8.5. I remember that she had wanted me to be repositioned on the bed. With the epidural, I could barely move my legs on my own. It was a really bizarre feeling. They felt really, really heavy. She told me to wait for the nurse and they would move me together. I just grabbed on the sides of the bed and pulled myself up. I pulled so hard that I smashed in the headboard. Oops. We had something to laugh about. Maggie was impressed with my strength and she even made note of it at the change of shift later that evening. 

She decided to put me on pitocin as to get my contractions closer together now that they were finally strong enough and I had an epidural. As soon as they were finished with this, I got some much needed rest. I slept for a couple hours. After I woke up, I got a text from my mom asking if I was awake. I believe it was around 4pm. My parents were at the RYS convention in OR as committee members. She didn't usually text me on Sunday afternoon. I wasn't going to tell her that I was in the hospital until Baby was born. That was also given that Baby come in a timely fashion and as I had been in the hospital for about 18 hrs, I figured I should just let her know where I was. I called her and told her. And since we had told my parents, we called Peter's parents as well.

Things slowed down quite a bit for awhile. Contractions were happening consistently but I wasn't progressing as quickly as before, ironically. Peter stepped out again to go get some food. We continued with the Tigers game and then it was time for church again. In the evening, we were going through the book of Revelation. Again, I really just didn't want to miss any of the series! Seriously so good! And all the while, nurses were coming in and out checking my vitals and Baby's heart rate, my contractions. My BP was being taken every half hour. 

At 8pm, there was a shift change. I was really bummed. I had really gotten to like Maggie and Chris. I was really hoping they would be around when Baby made his/her appearance. My next nurse Marion came in along with my next midwife, Jenny. I did my best to get rest. Jenny did a cervical exam. I was a 9 but even though Baby was head down, he/she was sideways whereas we wanted him/her to be face down. This went on for awhile. Face down, sideways, face down. I forget the OB's name but I didn't really care for her. She came in and told me my contractions were inadequate and left the room. As if I had control of my contractions. Sorry. I don't. 

I really don't remember much from the time new staff came on until the time when I was complete and was still waiting for Baby to position him/herself face down. Baby also wouldn't drop meaning that he/she wasn't in my birth canal. I do know that I was finally complete at 11pm. There was another woman who was giving birth and so I was waiting for her so that I could get going. The fact that they made me wait was awesome! I'm not superstitious or anything but I was really excited when I found out he/she would be born on the 14th! (My birthday is March 14. Weird connection). During this time of waiting, another nurse came in to prep me. After being asked all day long if I knew the sex of the baby, she finally wrote on the board that I was having a surprise baby. I don't know why they call it a surprise baby. I was not surprised that I was having a baby. I had been pregnant for the past nine months. Obviously, I knew what she meant. Everyone who found out that we didn't know the sex of the baby thought it was the coolest thing ever. Not many people wait to find out the sex of their babies.

I also don't remember exactly when I started pushing, I just know that I pushed for 2.5 hours. My other favorite nurse, Jacqui, came to encourage me. She helped me start pushing and taught me how. I started with 3 pushes per contraction. I was watching the monitor for each contraction. The next nurse came in to take over. She could tell that I couldn't feel the contractions and that I was getting nowhere very quickly. She called the anesthesiologist so that he could adjust my epidural. He had the dose cut in half. We had to wait again until I could feel my contractions before I could continue pushing. This is where is got bad. It was painful in a way that the epidural could not help me. 

The contractions were half as strong as they were before. That wasn't the part that was bothering me. The nurse had a finger in so that she could feel where I was pushing. That was annoying. Also, somewhere along the way, I ended up with hemorrhoids.  They made every contraction feel so much more intense. And as the time went on, they hurt more and more. I had a probe inserted in order to monitor my contractions more accurately. First I was pushing 3 times per contraction. Once I got the hang of pushing, I started trying for four. I tried three different positions. I ended up on a birthing bar with a knotted sheet so I could play tug-of-war with myself. I kept going and Baby would drop a little and then regress. Drop and regress. He/she got low enough that the nurse could feel his/her head and able to put a probe on the head to monitor heart rate. I was getting frustrated. I knew that Baby wasn't coming very quickly. Nothing was inherently wrong but things were not progressing. I had it in my head that if I didn't push as much as I could, Baby would just regress. It felt like 2 steps forward and 1 step back. I kept going with 4 and then 5 pushes per contraction. The hemorrhoids just kept getting worse and worse. I could feel everything getting swollen and I wanted to stop so badly. I wanted to be done. Every time a new nurse walked in, there was a gasp. I was so swollen, everyone that entered the room was taken aback. Peter was really great during all this. He held my leg up whenever needed. He put is hand on my face which in an odd way was a great comfort to me. It let me know that he was there and that he wasn't going anywhere.

 After 2.5 hours, Dr. Burg came in to discuss other options. She knew that I wasn't getting anywhere. I was so tired and kind of out of it. I found out later that the reason Dr. Burg wanted to move things along was because my pelvic arch was too narrow and my water had been broken for a long time. This left the baby at risk for infection. They kind of argued for a bit. The midwife wanted me to keep pushing. I had another hour and a half in her eyes. I had an epidural. Dr. Burg said I had a half hour. While she agreed with the midwife, she also knew that my water had been broken for over 18 hours. When she said I could push for another half hour, I asked if Baby would even be born within that time. They both said no. What were my other options? A c-section. Really? A c-section? Me? And why did she said options when there was only one option? I was so frustrated by this. I had been told most of my life that I had hips for childbearing. How was it possible that my pelvic arch was too narrow? 

The decision was made. A c-section it was. There were two other women in the ORs at the time and then they needed to be cleaned and prepped. I remember saying, "Ok, can I be done?" I rolled onto my side and burst into tears. I felt like I was giving up. I knew that I had had the thought of giving up running through my mind for a long time. I was in pain. I hit the button for the epidural and then injected something into my IV for my pain. Jacqui came back to check on me. She asked what was wrong. She knew instinctively it seemed what I was feeling. She reminded me that the point of all this was to have a healthy baby. I still had a chance at that. That was the goal that had been written on the white board 24 hours earlier. I was given peace of mind and had somehow justified in my mind that this was okay.

The OB came back to go over the risks and paperwork before the c-section. I asked if I could have sutures instead of staples on my incision. I had heard a few horror stories about infections with staples. She said that Dr. Burg would do what was best but she would take my request into consideration. She did allow me to be stitched. 

After the paperwork was all signed, we were ready to go. I was wheeled from my room to the OR. Peter was sent to another room to get suited up. I was in the OR being prepped by 6am. I had my head covered, I was on the operating table with my arms out, IVs with meds flowing. We all made the agreement that Peter would be the one to tell me what the gender of Baby was when he/she was born. 

It went really quick. I heard them counting everything off. I was super loopy. I was so tired. Whatever meds they gave me was making me very drowsy. I wanted to stay awake. I NEEDED to stay awake! I was not going to fall asleep and miss the birth of my child! Very soon after Peter was by my side again. He was talking to me. The doctor was explaining that I wouldn't feel any pain but just pressure. I would know that they were doing something but it shouldn't hurt. They were right. It felt like pressure with no pain. I was okay with that. I also still wanted to go to sleep. 

Before I knew it, my favorite memory of the entire ordeal was happening. The doctor said, "Okay Daddy, get ready. What's the gender of your baby?" Peter said, "It's a... girl?" I just remember smiling and being in a little disbelief. I had been convinced for the longest time that Baby was a boy. But now I knew I was wrong. She was a girl. Her name is Jenni. My little Jenni. The doctor popped her over the tent and said, "Hi Mom!". That was my first look and first memory of my little Jenni. Her eyes were wide open. So many emotions were pulsing through my being. I was happy, excited, scared, tired... Loopy. My first picture with her is ironic. My eyes are completely glazed over and her eyes are wide open and she is looking right at me. She knew I was her momma. 

The process of closing me up actually took longer than it did for Jenni to be born. They counted off all their tools many times. I closed my eyes. The anesthesiologist kept reminding me to keep my wrist straight because my IV was getting tangled and inhibiting my meds from flowing properly. 

In the recovery room, Jenni was given to me for our first skin-to-skin experience. I couldn't believe how beautiful she was (and is!). The way she looked at me with those eyes! It was an amazing feeling to have a little one look at me like that knowing that their life depended on me. It was also overwhelming. Then we taught her how to breast feed. She latched on her second try. I'll never forget the way she looked. Her big eyes! After she was fed, she got her first bath. 

I remember being super hungry. I hadn't eaten since 12:30pm on Sunday. I wasn't allowed to eat after I got the epidural. I was also meant to be on a clear liquid diet for the next 24 hours. 

Before I knew it, we were on our way to a postpartum suite where we would stay for the following three days. It was rough but every day was better than the last. 

On July 17, my actual due date, we were taking our little Jenni home. She has been growing up so quickly before my eyes already. She is over a month old now. It took me a long time to come to terms with how Jenni was born. It was very emotional. This is the story as well as I can remember it. Hope you enjoyed reading it.

I am so thankful for the supportive and loving friends, family, and church family that God has blessed us with. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers throughout my pregnancy and now as I have become a new mother. Many of you have reached out to me in ways that I did not even imagine. Thank you for all the advice and encouragement. While being a mother feels so natural to me, I'm thankful for help.

May God give me strength to be the best mother I can be to Jenni.

Bundles of Joy and Change

Things are changing. Change. It's not really something that most people like to deal with. But change is here in our household.
I'm sure all of you must know by now that Peter and I are expecting our first child mid-July this summer. This means change. Change in schedules, habits, activities, ... Life in general. Now don't take this to mean that I'm not accepting of this change. This is me thinking and contemplating about it. I guess it just hasn't really sunk in yet. I am going to be a mother. When Peter and I started dating, this was a dream of mine that was being realized. What I saw in Peter was great father material. He is going to be so great. I can't wait to watch him. He has this personality that is fun-loving and yet, he knows where to draw the line. He will be able to demand respect from our children and yet, they will love him, trust him, want to be near him. I have seen this in him as we have worked with the youth in the last few years. He is their friend but no their best friend. You get the picture I hope. I'm saying my husband is going to be an awesome dad and that's one of the reasons I married him. I couldn't wait to parent children with him.
So this dream... To be a mom... To teach my kids about Jesus. Oh, that is a privilege I am so looking forward to. I actually think about my baptismal vows daily. My child is a part of a covenant made with him/her by God and he/she doesn't even know it yet. I'm just letting that sink in. I don't know what kind of personality my child will have. Will they be naughty? Will they be good? Will they be rebellious? Will they be sassy? Will they be respectful? And here's the best part: God already knows all this and He already has made a covenant based on the family they're being born into. Baptism is awesome.
I also can't wait to teach my kids music! Ah! I have a captive little audience as is right now. Let me tell ya, if you go to my church, and I jump suddenly while playing, it's now because baby kicks me constantly while in play. Oh it is my favorite part about being pregnant! My baby responds to my playing and singing and I love it! I can't wait to sing to my baby when he/she is born... Whether it's to stop those tears or it's because we're happy and having fun or just praising God!
So back to the change... I have all these wonderful things to look forward to... What's there problem, you ask? Well, no problem... But life will change. Maybe it will be more difficult to serve the church. Maybe it will be more difficult to do things with friends. Maybe I will have to actually quit work all together. I will definitely miss being a part of youth retreats and convention. And that doesn't mean never, maybe it just means not now.
I look at other parents and life seems to go on. It is going to be a huge learning curve learning how to raise a family (!) AND realize that life goes on outside of my home.
I can definitely accept this change. But you know what is going to change most, at least my best guess? ME.
God is trusting this little helpless being to me. He is trusting me with this bundle of joy. It will be difficult to not take too much responsibility for this little person and their faith, how they grow up because ultimately, this child belongs to the Lord. I am not only preparing myself for parenthood and the joys and challenges of that but also to be sanctified. I am not perfect but I am on a journey towards perfection -- to be more and more like Jesus.
So CHANGE. Change is going to be really good. In terms of sanctification, that means blessing even though there are challenges and knowing that God is in absolute control over all things, even little old me... Well... If God is for us, who could possibly be against us? Who?
Hope you enjoyed my musings.
Kelli

And nothing else matters...

As I have journeyed on this earth for the short time that I have so far, all I have learned is how much more I have to learn. When I think about that, it had to be the hardest thing I had ever learned. I have much to learn about God and doctrine and I can never possibly know it all! And the other thing is, I am not entirely sure I will ever know myself the way God knows me as he knows me better than I even know myself. Pondering this thought, it doesn't seem to make any sense. How can one not know oneself? And maybe there's not anything worth knowing about oneself. All I see is sin, weakness, inability in myself -- that is, apart from Christ.

"Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me." My grandma always told me that. Sorry, Grandma, but for me, that is the furthest thing from the truth. I am one of those people that for whatever reason, negative words can be detrimental to me. On the flip side, the positive words are heard, pondered, treasured more than the normal person would ever consider. And this is one thing I have actually been able to articulate about myself. The reason itself is entirely unknown to me but I take everything -- the good and the bad -- personally. The negative aspect of this possibly little known fact about myself is I believe an effect of sin, along with the worrying. What can be done?

Knowing that I am a child of the King, the One who has wiped my slate clean means everything. What else in this life, what flaw, what besetting sin, what people say or do, could POSSIBLY matter more than that? It is unfathomable why I forget that so easily. Why am I constantly looking to myself when I already possess the free gift of grace that I have already accepted by faith through Christ? And so I keep searching the scriptures, hungrily listen to sermons and it always comes back to the same thing -- if God is for me, what can be against me? The devil has already lost the battle and I now belong, body and soul, to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.

It will always be a vicious cycle in this life -- sin, confession, repentance. But at the end of the day, Jesus is my advocate. And nothing else matters.

Three Years and Counting...

This week was our third anniversary. Every year Peter plans some sort of getaway for us and it's a surprise to me. Maybe you don't know this about me but I LOVE surprises. I love not knowing everything about the trip. It seems to make the trip longer when you don't know every plan. Our first anniversary Peter took me to Six Flags Discovery Kingdom.  Last year, we went to Old Sacramento and Beni Hanna. This year, Peter took me to Napa Valley. I have been wanting to go to Napa Valley for a very long time. I was kind of always led to believe that it was overrated and very touristy.  I have been many other places to wine taste (Murphy, Lodi, etc) and I really enjoy the experience of extending my knowledge on wine and viticulture. And in the end, we both decided that our idea of fun has changed in the past three years. From roller coasters to wineries, this year was the best so far.

We stopped for lunch at a place that Peter's coworkers kept twlling him to stop at. Peter's line of work actually has him driving to Napa Valley occasionally. They told him to stop for lunch at this burger joint called Big D's Burgers where they have garlic fries. He said he had never actaully stopped there because he was never there at lunch time. So we stopped and had burgers and garlic fries in their gazebo.  For being a hole in the wall, the gazebo was clean and well maintained and the food was great.

Our first winery was called Ruthford Ranch. The experience was wine and chocolate pairing. The atmosphere was incredibly inviting and relaxing. Peter is constantly telling me that I need to relax so it felt very fitting for him to bring me to a place to do so. We tasted 5 wines and 4 chocolates in this really comfortable room. One thing I loved about Napa Valley wineries in general is that they all want you to relax, take your time, and enjoy yourself. We certainly did so at this particular winery as they had couches for us to sit on and windows overlooking the small garden and patio area. It was far away from the main road ao there were many trees with changing colors to see.

After our first stop, we decided to drive a little. Our over all drive time so far was around 2 hours. We had driven through Napa, St. Helen, Rutherford, Yountville and lastly to our final destination of Calistoga. Our hotel was in this little town. It had a strip with shops, boutiques,  and restaurants, many of which were very fine. I think the thing we both enjoyed so much was that fall had come to these areas and it felt like we were in Michigan again. The only things that reminded us that we weren't were the palm trees and mountains in the distance.

We went to a restaurant called Brannon's for dinner. The atmosphere was dark,  fancy, and warm. An odd combination, I know, but I cant think of another way to describe it. The windows were large and wide open. Where were all the bugs? We kept expecting them but they never came. We decided not to question it and just enjoy it. I ordered a drink called the Prickly Pear Margarita.  It tasted like someone dumped chili powder into it! Even Peter didn't like it. I ended up with a Zinfandel and peter with a beer ( I don't know what kind it was).

Something you may not know about me: I love Surf 'n Turf and my Peter let me order it ! It was phenomenal! He ordered a BBQ platter complete with chicken, ribs, and brisket. As we enjoyed our fancy meal together, we reminisced over the last year and how God had worked in each one of us. We talked about how it changed and how it stayed the same and discussed the future. God has truly blessed us. He gave us each other, sinners though we may be, and through the Holy Spirit, we point each other to Christ. Looking back over the last year, I can see not only how I have grown but also the work that has yet to be done. It's amazing how two imperfect people can coexist and still bring out the best in each other. My prayer for our next year is that we may grow in grace and wisdom even more than we already have in the past three years.

Day two of our adventure included both beer and wine. We started the day at Sterling winery. You have to take a gondola up the hill. The valley where this winery is located is quite forested and offers texture and dimension in the view. That is probably my favorite thing about the autumn season. And this year because our location, we got to enjoy that with out seeing too much of the Halloween decorations. It reminded me of why we decided on an Autumn wedding in the first place: colors.

At the top of the hill, we were greeted with our first tasting and entered the self guided tour. The tour was a "grape to glass" tour. I enjoyed the enlightenment of viticulture and wine making. It was quite fascinating and helps explain the complexity of taste in wine. So as we were taking the tour, we were tasting wine, enjoying scenery, each other and relaxation. We took our time. It actually felt kind of European in a sense, except there was no food.

The beer tasting was at a brewery in Santa Rosa. It apparently is 12 miles away from Calistoga. We drove through some hills and valleys to get there. Fun drive. This brewery is called Russian River Brewery. The food was great, we ordered pizza. I don't particularly care for beer but Peter enjoys it and he also enjoys brewing. We had a good time driving there and being there.

I know this post is super long so if you're still reading along to the bitter end, thank you for taking interest in my life. I'm so thankful that God chose me to be one of His children and that he gave me a husband whom he also chose. At the end of it all, we are both sinners who need Jesus and keep pointing each other back to Him however painful it may be.

Soli Deo Gloria

Kelli

Perm rods and Joy

I never thought I would enjoy perms as much as I do until I began to work with the elderly. Perms are a long process which can turn out to be tedious depending on the person. When I was in beauty school, I never imagined I'd ever need to know how to do a perm let alone a shampoo set. They seemed to be a thing of the past.

Well I started working for a beauty shop within a society that serves the elderly. The position I have secured is within the memory care unit where there is a ratio of one caregiver to four residents and eight residents per house. It's a lovely setup. These resdients have one form of dementia or another and so working with them can be a real challenge at times.

The key I have learned is to find the humor in whatever situation is presented to you. Sometimes, it really is hard to not take what was said to you personally. You have to realize the disease is not allowing them control over what they say or do. This being said, some days are difficult while other days are just plain entertaining. 

My job combines my love for doing hair with my love for working for the elderly. My job is to be in the moement that they are in at that moment.  If I can do that, I have done my job, brought them joy and made them beautiful.

My last lady for today was singing in the mirror, "what a beautiful girl". It brought tears to my eyes and a smile to my lips that I gave her such joy just by giving her a vintage hairstyle (as I have lovingly come to know it as). I felt fulfilled by her joy and that is enough of a reward.

Blessings,

Kelli