Part 2: When God Plans Your Delivery

David William came to join us on January 31st – a full five and a half weeks early. Needless to say, once again, we found ourselves living a different plan from our own. And in each circumstance, God provided.

A few weeks before David’s birth, I began to experience an insane amount of itching. As if I had been rolling in poison ivy. But pregnancy had come with a lot of uncomfortable weirdness so far, so I didn’t think much of it (aside from “I want to tear off my skin”). I wasn’t going to even mention it to the midwife, but a couple of hours before a routine appointment I googled my symptoms on a whim. Cue mild panic.

Later that day, the general pleasantries between the midwife and I turned into a concerned conversation. Blood work was ordered, and within two days I was diagnosed with a liver condition called intraheptic choleostasis of pregnancy (ICP). If you’d like to read extensively about the condition, I encourage you to do so here. But for the shorter version, ICP affects 1-2 in 1,000 pregnancies. It’s not terribly dangerous for the mother, but it can be harmful to the infant in a number of ways. Since it only lasts as long as the pregnancy and increases risk of stillbirth after 37 weeks gestation, it’s typically treated by inducing early labor.

The midwife explained all of this over the phone, and that she’d like to talk about inducing labor at 36 weeks – I was 33w 6d at the time. She also told me to schedule an appointment for that Monday to come up with a game plan and retest my blood. Dutifully, I made and attended the appointment, with a different midwife than the one who had been working with me so far. This new midwife brushed aside all concerns, and told me that there would likely be no need for an induction. Needless to say, I was less than thrilled with her blasé attitude (this is my child’s life we’re discussing) and more than a little confused and upset. My husband and I made a plan to call the office first thing the following morning to speak with the original midwife.

Fast-forward a few hours, my husband and I attend our evening childbirth class and learn all about pain management and breathing techniques. We walk downstairs together, and I tell him that I’m planning to stop at Wendy’s on the way home to grab a late night snack. We hop in our separate cars and head homeward. As I exited the Wendy’s drive through, my water broke. Events proceeded as follows:

10:35p – Husband receives phone call requesting that he not go to bed yet; I am 60-70% certain my water has broken.
10:50p – I arrive at home and we decide my water is most certainly broken. But no contractions yet (as far as I’m aware).
11:00p – Call midwife; I am told to come in so we can figure out what’s going on, but I’m probably not in labor.
11:01p – Since I’m “not in labor,” I tell my husband I’d like to take a shower and have a snack before we go in. (He declines the bedtime story request.)
12:00a – Arrive at hospital, fill out copious amounts of paperwork. Do lots of waiting. Find out that I am having mild contractions, according to the belt monitor, but they’re really irregular.
2:00a – Midwife finally checks me out; I am definitely not in labor or going to have the baby tonight since I’m not dilated at all.
2:10a – I am moved out of triage into a delivery room because that’s the only place they have space to put me.
2:20a – Definitely having contractions now that I need to breathe through.
3:20a – HOLY COW, I AM HAVING CONTRACTIONS. I CANNOT DO THIS FOR HOURS. NO WAY.
3:30a – Midwife returns; apparently I’m fully dilated and it’s time to start pushing.
3:40a – There’s suddenly a lot of activity at the end of the bed. Baby needs to come now because he’s not tolerating the labor well.
3:52a – Oh, hey there kiddo.

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David spent two and a half weeks in the NICU as a result of preemie status + vomiting green goop on day 4 of life (which scared the begeebers out of everyone and led to transfer to a bigger hospital than where I delivered… but that’s a long story). There, we met some amazing medical providers and tremendously encouraging NICU parents. Although it isn’t what I would have chosen, it actually ended up being an amazing blessing to have so many people helping me learn how to care for an infant in those first weeks. Also, Ronald McDonald House was a HUGE blessing, providing a quiet place for us to step away from the bedside, as well as grab meals. The hospital also had a meals program for me as a breastfeeding mom, and their financial aid program covered all of David’s medical bills. God. Is. Good.

We’ve all been home for 5ish weeks now. David is already 8lbs and 13oz and counting – which is great especially considering he had dropped from 5lbs 9oz to 4lbs 11oz his first week. As everyone keeps telling me it will, the time is flying by. He’s already outgrowing newborn clothing. He’s making messes everywhere and stealing our hearts. And as I wake (many times) in the middle of the night to meet my son’s needs, God is still good. God’s teaching me patience, generally refining me, and also reminding me how great my husband is. God’s seen fit to place a number of fantastic people in our lives that have blessed us in countless ways. To say I’m humbled by His provision for us is a bit of an understatement. So I’ll just finish by repeating, God is good.

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When You’re a Hypocrite…And Also a Blogger

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Photo credit: Anna Grace (Not my Bible on my counter, haha, I found this among her amazing photos after writing the post!)

 

If you happen to notice such things, it may have struck you that it’s been a little quiet in the Audacious Poet blogosphere. I’d like to say it’s because I’m busy–and I am busy–but that’s not the primary reason I haven’t written anything substantial since… I’m afraid to look. October? Well, beginning of November, anyway. No, it’s actually because I’ve felt  hypocritical posting about spiritual things because I haven’t been living them like I ought to.

I have a recurring problem. I hit a busy spell and I routinely forget or put off spending time in the Word and in prayer. Ladies and gentlemen, I here confess: I have been forgetting and putting off spending time with God. It’s awful. And then I have a secondary recurring problem–I get really embarrassed about it. I “hide” from God, as if I could and as if He’s going to upbraid me for missing time with Him then second I sit down with my Bible. (Sort of like when someone lends you a book, and you haven’t read it yet, so you avoid them for an eon because you’re afraid they’ll ask how it was and you’ll have to admit it’s been kicking around your car since they lent it to you, and then they’ll call you terrible names and hate you for all eternity…or am I the only one?)

Additionally, I want to hide from anyone or anything that might make me feel more remorseful, or actually call me out on it. Folks, I’ve actually been embarrassed to pick up my prayer journal because I don’t want to record that I’m STILL reading through the same part of Ezekiel so many months later. Nobody even reads (or will read) my prayer journal. Might I suggest that there’s some irrational, spiritual interference here?

Please understand, I don’t think the devil himself lurks around my home to plague me with guilt about missing my quiet time. However, I do think there’s a real spiritual battle surrounding any activities that strengthen my relationship with Christ. And I do think the enemy is shameless about using my own shortcomings–namely pride in this case, I think–to trip me up.

A closing thought here, for any who have read this far. My brother and I recently had a somewhat unrelated discussion about living a middle of the road life where you aren’t really doing anything in the way of Kingdom work, nor are you enjoying the pleasures of sin for a season. You’re just doing your thing, enjoying the “benefits” of neither and making sure you muddle through the every day stuff without any serious sin. But we know that Christ can’t stand a lukewarm Christian (Revelation 3:15-16). And we also know that Christ offers an antidote to the paralyzing poison: “Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent.” (Revelation 3:19) Just like that. It’s our responsibility, once we’re aware of where we’re at, to do something about it.

I got out my Bible yesterday morning. I’m starting in Hebrews. (NOT so I can cheat in my prayer journal, just because I need a change of pace.) I’m also leaving my Bible open on the kitchen counter so I read my mandatory chapter in the morning before work, if nothing else. If you’re in a paralyzed, lukewarm, embarrassed stage for whatever reason–just open your Bible. Say a prayer. God is so gracious to draw me, as He did Israel, with cords of love–especially when I’m a knucklehead (Hosea 11). I’m sure I’ll be here again in a few months, in spite of my best efforts. But God is so good. Happy New Year, everyone.

THAT’s and THOSE’s

The danger of thinking you’re finished with anything forever is that–inevitably–you’ll suddenly be crushed with the realization that you are most definitely not. For instance, I rejoiced publicly when I finished my final math class in high school. “HA,” I thought, “I’m not going to be a math teacher. I’ll never see THOSE awful textbooks and ridiculous word problems again.” Fast forward six years and four mathematics courses later to college level statistics, the only thing that’s keeping me from failing my ecology exams. Yet more upsetting was my epiphany earlier this week that I was 7 credits short of finishing school in the spring. Did I mention they were upper level credits? Did I mention I’ve been in school for a very long time? Needless to say, I was not happy.

As serious as the second blunder was, however, I’m not sure it compares to things like, “Well, I’ll never have to see THOSE people again. I don’t have to learn how to stand up for myself.” or “I no longer have an issue with anxiety attacks–done with THAT phase of life.” Continue Reading

Wanderenvy

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Everyone seems to be jetting off to somewhere–and writing about it. Students are abroad learning-whilst-exploring, loving the cultural experience. People are taking a break from their careers or life in general to go globe trotting. There are sights to see; traditional tourist stops as well as the hole-in-the-wall sort of places. In the interest of full disclosure, I’m happy to say I’ve been able (by God’s blessing!) to do some of this myself. The picture above actually came from a missions trip I took to Austria a number of years ago. I loved trying to decipher the various languages to which I was exposed on the continent, as well as tasting the cuisine and wandering my way around foreign cities, camera in hand. And other peoples’ accounts of adventure are, at present, the closest I can come to doing that once again.

As much as I enjoy reading, I am prone to sudden and serious attacks of wanderenvy. Wanderenvy is often misdiagnosed as wanderlust, making it a dangerous look alike. Continue Reading