Baby's First Train Ride!

Planes, trains, and automobiles! 

In the past four months, we've taken baby girl on her first flight, first extended road trip, and now her first train ride on the Alaska Railroad! She's quickly becoming quite the seasoned traveler, and seemed to enjoy the vast scenery on our four-hour coastal train ride from Anchorage to Seward, Alaska this past weekend. While the early morning departure on Saturday was a little challenging for all of us, we were able to relax and nap at our hotel that afternoon, which made our weekend excursion much more manageable. Also, we happened to be visiting Seward at the same time that our dear friends Yoonjung and Dan were in town from Seattle with their family. It was great seeing familiar faces, and catching up with them. What great timing! (You may remember Dan and Yoonjung's visit to Alaska last summer, which I wrote about here.) 

On our train ride, we spotted two large moose (likely weighing around 1500 lbs each) and beluga whales, along with an eagle and a handful of swans. In addition to the wildlife, we enjoyed picturesque views of towering mountains, giant glaciers, glacial lakes, mudflats, and dense forests. Ken and I purchased these train tickets, along with our hotel stay, as a fifth anniversary getaway and it was very special being able to share this experience with our almost five-month-old.

Here are some photos of our trip.
I look forward to sharing more adventures with you soon!

On How We Met, and 5 Things I've Learned About Marriage

Fragmented light filtered through our kitchen's newly-installed French doors, as I sat down to write a couple nights ago. The warm glow reminding me that the sun was getting ready to set. I watched Ken outside playing with Penny, our pup, in a rowdy game of fetch and smiled. Meanwhile, Ruby napped peacefully in her nursery, exhausted from dinner out, and I hoped that by her gearing up for bed an hour early, she'd welcome a full night's sleep sooner.

In that moment, I decided to step away from my computer and take everything in. As I've learned from these past few years of marriage, there are times to write and reflect and times to experience and engage. Both have their place. I snapped my macbook closed, and stepped outside. The warmer Alaskan evening felt refreshing. Penny saw me almost immediately and bolted toward our patio doors. She then threw herself into our half-filled kiddy pool before attempting to bear-hug me. Surprised by how quickly everything took place, I barely registered that our 45-lb border collie was trying to climb on me before it was too late. I was soaked. And felt gross, instantly. How long has that water been sitting there? I asked Ken, as my mind considered what parasites I might now be host to, thanks to Penny. 

As I played fetch and tug-o-war with our wild beast of a dog, I started to think about what a unique blessing this season is. In having an incredible, life-giving marriage, a healthy and strong baby girl, a cozy home, an energetic dog, the hope that we'll someday start sleeping at night again (perhaps in the near future), and an unshakable joy from knowing that God loves us and is for us and will take care of us, even if we didn't have these things. We are safe in Him. He's our ultimate hope and peace, and source of all good things. We are so very, very blessed.

Today is a special day. Five years ago, Ken and I were married at the Haiku Mill, a beautiful wedding venue that once housed an old sugar mill on the island of Maui, just a few minutes from where I grew up. It was my dream to get married in those ruins of a time long ago, and we were incredibly blessed by that opportunity. Here are a couple photos from our wedding day.

How We Met...

Our story begins a couple years prior to these photos, in October of 2008, the year after I graduated from college. I was 22 years old, on the cusp of my 23rd birthday, living on Maui when my cousin, Isaac, decided to pay a visit home during his military deployment to Korea. Isaac is my cousin who I'm closest to in age; he's like a brother to me. He was living overseas at the time with his best friend, Ken. The two of them were on leave together when I met up with Isaac at the County Fair, that fateful October evening. Immediately, I noticed that Isaac had a friend in tow, although he had never mentioned his friend coming to Hawaii as well. (Cue smiling, here.) 

Photo from the County Fair, 2008

Ken and I hit it off right away - kinda/sorta - in that, I pegged his sense of humor as "caustic" and quickly offended him, when in actuality, I didn't realize that my choice of words wasn't the best way to start a relationship. Ken forgave me, thankfully, and after our week of hanging out, he and Isaac got back on a plane and left. Unsure of what the future held for us, I said goodbye and yet struggled to get Ken off my mind in the following days and weeks. I was living on Maui, working at a hotel on the beach, while Ken was in the military, and could be sent anywhere around the world at any given time. What could really happen between us? I'd think to myself. 

Not long after the two boys left, Ken contacted me via Facebook and we started messaging each other. One thing led to another, and within a couple weeks, we moved on to actual emails and then phone calls. I was so ridiculously nervous in those early months of our blossoming friendship. But once we started talking, I felt like time stood still. We could talk on the phone for hours at a time. All my cell phone minutes were depleted by talking to a boy who lived halfway around the world. He was as remote as I could imagine, I thought, until one day he told me that he was getting stop-lossed and sent to Iraq. They needed him for intel work, he said. Scared and uncertain, I continued to pursue our friendship even though I feared that he could get hurt, living in a war zone. God met us both in those times, and challenged me to live in faith and pray for this guy that I was starting to really like. 

One of my favorite things about our relationship at the time, was in how Ken pursued me. He met me on my level and wrote me hand-written letters on a weekly basis, which spoke deeply to my heart. I love writing, and his stories were encouraging, affirming, and thought-provoking. Day-to-day adventures of life in Iraq fascinated me. I'd hang on every word, and then grab a pen and paper and write Ken back almost immediately. I loved running to my mailbox every day when I got home from work, just to see if I got another letter from my friend around the world. 

You can probably imagine what happened next. Our friendship turned into dating and then when Ken finally returned from Iraq after an extra year in the military, we got engaged and then married. We lived in Seattle for the first few years of our marriage and then moved to Alaska once Ken graduated from college. Our marriage has been a wonderful adventure, full of travel and exploration. We've visited nine countries outside of the U.S. together in only five short years. And beyond that, we've grown together through multiple challenges - along with a healthy degree of conflict - as we have learned how to love and serve each other well. 

In reflecting on our first five years of marriage, I compiled a list of things I've learned that stand out to me. These are things that I'm constantly learning and relearning. Marriage is a safe place where Ken and I are able to fail at any number of these and find grace and forgiveness, as we seek to glorify God through our relationship. 

5 Things I've Learned About Marriage:

1. Love is Worth Fighting For. Marriage is worth fighting for. This is something that my husband helped me realize early on in marriage. If we were ever going to make it in those first couple years, we needed to commit to fighting for each other, rather than against one another. We are partners, allies, and best friends. I am committed to respecting my husband and trying my best to build him up and not tear him down, especially in front of others. My husband is not the enemy - rather, sin, when it gets between us (either my sin or his), must be brought out into the open and named for what it is and asked to be forgiven of. So often, I'm in the wrong and choose to place blame on Ken, when in reality, we both really need Jesus. Communication, transparency, humility, and forgiveness are vital. 

2. Seek First to Understand Before Being Understood. Most of the time, the reason conflict escalates between my husband and me, it's because we're not on the same page. I'm not really trying to understand him; I just want to be heard. Once I sit down and really quiet myself and listen to what he's trying to say, suddenly so many of my insta-responses aren't worth sharing. I realize that in my defensiveness, I've failed to hear - really hear - what Ken is saying. I care about him, and I want to know him. What he thinks is important and valuable, and worth listening to, even if we don't agree.

3. Do the Small Things. This is something that my husband daily blesses me in - doing the small things. So much of marriage is doing monotonous tasks together (cleaning, cooking, bill-paying, etc.) and Ken does these things with so much love. Chivalry is not dead, contrary to that modern phrase. My husband still holds my hand when we walk together, opens doors for me, and stops what he's doing when I have a question. He shows me his love through action - "small things with great love," as Mother Theresa would say. 

4. Invest in your marriage. Within our first year of marriage, Ken and I were struggling with heated misunderstandings and conflict. Our "baggage" from the past kept coming to the surface and influenced our actions, causing tension. Together, we made the decision to start attending weekly marriage counseling. We committed to making our marriage a top priority, and spent the same amount of money on weekly counseling sessions as we did on groceries. I can say with confidence that this was money well-spent. Although many sessions included lots of tears and frustration (mostly mine), God enabled me to work through some very painful memories from my childhood as well as unhealthy patterns that affected our marriage. Praise God for showing me that life could be so much better than I ever imagined. I learned, perhaps for the first time in my life, that I could be responsible for my actions and choose to live a better way. For myself and for Ken. 

5. Be Present. In the end, it won't matter how many Facebook "likes" my profile picture got, or whether I made-it-big, or if I'm popular on Instagram -- what matters is how I treat the people in my life, the people that God has placed along my path and blessed me with. I want to be a great spouse, an amazing mom, a loyal friend - the kind of person who you can call for encouragement, rather than someone who finds out your most important news via social media. A great illustration of being present is how Ken encourages me to put my phone down when we are having quality time, in order to focus on each other - to savor the moment and the conversation we get to partake in, without the whole world listening in. There is a time and place for sharing as well as treasuring things with your spouse and family.

What a marvelous journey we're on!
Happy Anniversary, Babe! 

Our 30-Day Grain-Free Challenge!

Sweet, aromatic flavors waft through our kitchen. A subtle spiciness hangs in the air. Coriander and cumin and cinnamon, with a hint of cayenne. I feel as though I could walk out onto our deck and find myself a few stories about the bustling streets of Marrakesh, breathing in the sights and sounds of people meandering through their open markets, sampling delicious street food. I'd love to go there someday. Until then, I plan on creating as many Moroccan-style meals as I can get my hands on.

Today was one such day, in that I experimented with my first recipe from Danielle Walker's Against All Grain web site: Slow Cooker Moroccan Chicken with chopped almonds, apricots and cauliflower "couscous." Recipe here. Warning: this dish is amazing and you will most likely forget that it's completely grain/dairy-free while partaking of it. If I was asked to describe the flavor profile, I'd peg it as buttery, rich and bright - the chicken is initially seared before being placed in the slow-cooker, and then the use of dried apricots, which plump up in the almondy-garlicky-oniony sauce, rounds out the high and low notes. In short, this dish is sumptuous and satisfying. The side of "couscous" is simply shredded cauliflower that's sautéed with handfuls of fresh basil and cilantro and spoonfuls of dried cherries with lemon zest. Incredible - in that way where you want to keep going back for seconds or thirds or spoonfuls or lickfuls. You get the idea. I had our crockpot simmering all afternoon so that when Ken got home from work, we could sit down to this special meal together. The smells were hypnotizing, and helped motivate me through an afternoon with my usually happy 4-month-old who unfortunately, decided that today was not a good day for napping. Mama, on the other hand, would've loved a nap. 

I digress.

Today, I wanted to share some news with you. Ken and I have decided to go on a 30-day Grain-Free Challenge! You see, everyone we know is on some sort of diet (can't eat this or that) and well, that whole "since our friends are jumping off a bridge, we decided to as well" thing - Just Kidding! Er - kinda, sorta. Actually, my older sister and her husband have been living the paleo lifestyle for years and recently, Ken's dad chose to go completely grain-free, and in seeing how great it's been for each of them, we decided that it'd be good to try this thing for ourselves (yet again.) 

For some background, a couple years ago, Ken and I did the "Whole 30 Challenge," a stricter-Paleo diet/cleanse. We meal-planned and cooked tons of meals focused solely on meat and vegetables (see cute picture of me cooking paleo here) and while it went great for the first few days/weeks, I got super, super sick and ended up losing weight mainly because I got tired (and grossed out) by eating so much meat (mainly red meat, sometimes chicken) and then didn't want to eat all. One thing I should share at this point is that my body is not wired for lots of meat consumption. I do much, much better when I'm eating more vegetarian/vegan meals and have meat as a once-a-day thing or every-other-day thing. The same goes for dairy. I can have cheese and dairy products in moderation, but if it turns into a regular thing, my allergies flair up and I just feel icky inside. I guess that my main problem or issue that I struggle with as far as food goes, is my intense love for all things bread-related and sugar-related (and while we're on the topic, cheese-related and bacon-related. Hehe.) I love dessert. I see it as serving a very real purpose. A quick "hit" of sugar and I feel like I can get through the day after not sleeping well with baby. But I can so easily become addicted to sugar once I start having it. It's a drug for me, a coping tool, a comfort, and a dear friend. 

But Sugar and I need to break up for awhile. Go our separate ways, in the hopes that I won't allow it to define my eating patterns. And that is why Ken and I are embarking on this 30-day Grain-Free Challenge. We want to give up processed foods (within reason) and added sugars (again, within reason) and focus on more vegetable-centric meals and snacks. I like a lot of what the Primal Diet says in how to go about that. 

Anyway, all that to say, I would love prayer and support for me/us the next 30 days, as Ken and I try to get back into more healthful living. For those of you who know us well, we have always eaten pretty healthy and enjoyed all things in moderation, but recently we noticed a trend in the wrong direction and want to correct those behaviors. We want our trajectory to change. For me, I want my focus to stop being about what my next treat is (i.e. cookies, ice cream, all-things-yum), and more about what God is doing in my life and how to better steward this body I've been blessed with (by making wiser decisions about what I put in it.) Health is a gift, and I want to take care of myself so that I can better take care of my family. 

Our game plan is simple: no grains (breads, pasta, rice, oats, etc.) and no added sugars (this will be harder since sugar is added to almost everything). Veggies, fruits (in moderation), nuts, oils, meats, and some dairy is A-Ok. We can have one "cheat" meal for special occasions (for example, we're planning on getting sushi for our anniversary next week) or once/week, but we can also choose to go without these things. We're committed to trying this approach, and recognize that in Christ, we can find grace if we fail at any point. Our hope is to succeed at trying this for the whole month!

I plan on blogging about this next month's victories, challenges and my overall progress. I'm curious to see if I can actually 1. stick with this challenge and 2. not eat cookies and stick with this challenge. Haha! 

Check back often on how we are doing and to hear what I think of the grain-free lifestyle, whether the principles are something that we'd like to continue or simply learn from. Also, please feel free to share your favorite grain-free dishes in the comments section or send me a message. Cheers!

4 Months and Counting!

 Hello, my sweet 4-month-old! I proudly whispered to baby girl today, as I cuddled with her in bed, breathing in her fresh scent of milk, and tracing the outline of muscles forming along her dimpled arms and cherubim-like legs. She's growing stronger with each passing week.

Ruby's latest developments include her current obsession with turning over - or trying to, as much as possible throughout the day. The other night, Ken watched baby girl turn over twice. And then yesterday afternoon, Ruby was able to turn from her back to her stomach nearly five times in a row. She isn't quite sure how to get from her belly onto her back again after the initial turn, so I assist her in returning to a comfortable starting point. Baby girl is very active, and tries to put everything in her mouth these days. Rattles, toys, fingers (hers and mine), bibs - everything around her seems equally tasty. I keep checking for teeth but there's no sign of them yet.

Our little one loves to smile and makes all sorts of fun noises throughout the day. Ken and I refer to one such noise as 'the pterodactyl', which is a high pitched scream. Ruby enjoys our daily walks to the nearby park and seems to focus on the trees swaying in the summer breeze. Green might be her favorite color.

Baby girl's hair has changed from light brown to blonde, and her eyes are now a more pronounced hazel-green, with blueish-gray edges. We are so curious to see what color her eyes and hair become and eventually stay, by her first birthday hopefully. She is such a beautiful little girl, loved deeply by family and friends.

This past month, we've been blessed by Ken's mom in coming to watch Ruby for intermittent date nights. Being a mom is a unique and wonderful blessing, and I recognize that in order for me to be great at this new role, I need downtime to recharge and rest (when possible) as well as quality time with Ken. This space during dates has allowed Ken and me to dream together, and consider our goals for the future. Where we might live next, what we'd like to pursue vocationally, and travel ideas - there are so many fun things to discuss as we consider our vision for family, community, and living intentionally.

As Ken and I prepare to celebrate our 5th anniversary in a few weeks, I can't help but praise God for this special season of our lives. We became parents this year to a very special little girl. Ruby, we love you so much.

*In sitting down down to finish this blog entry (writing is something I come back to throughout the day as Ruby allows), Ken got home from work and surprised us with a slice of dark chocolate raspberry cake from one of my favorite bake shops. What a treat. He knows me so well!

Happy 4 months, baby girl!

Happy Independence Day!

On a day marked by overcast skies, the slight drip-dripping of rain, and a modest summer temperature hovering around 60 degrees, our family of three (four, counting Penny, our pup) celebrated our nation's independence. I often forget the many freedoms that Americans are privileged to live out in a relatively safe environment, and yet today, as I pondered graphic news headlines - brimming with violence (both near and far) set against the gray clouds overhead, a sort of juxtaposition of sea/sky, freedom/slavery, light/dark came to mind. We are so privileged to live in the United States, to have access to clean water, to have rights as citizens to vote, to work for a better life, to do business in a free market economy, to eat good food (or not so good food), and to be safe. Perhaps in theory all of these things are black and white, and how each person is able to live out these freedoms lies in shades of gray. 

Regardless, I believe that I am truly blessed to be an American citizen, to live in a country that was founded on great ideas. A country that many soldiers have risked their lives defending. A country that still allows religious freedom, for the most part. So many people around the world are fighting to survive - not just thrive, as I consider myself able to do as an American citizen. Today, as I enjoyed a lovely brunch with my sweet family, and then a long walk along the inlet, I was reminded of what a blessing it is to be free.  

I've always loved this song, as it reminds me of the freedom we have. Praise God.

"America the Beautiful" by Katharine Lee Bates

United Methodist Hymnal, 1989

O beautiful for spacious skies,
for amber waves of grain;
for purple mountain majesties
above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee,
and crown thy good with brotherhood
from sea to shining sea.

O beautiful for heroes proved
in liberating strife,
who more than self their country loved,
and mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine,
till all success be nobleness,
and every gain divine.

O beautiful for patriot dream
that sees beyond the years
thine alabaster cities gleam,
undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God mend thine every flaw,
confirm thy soul in self-control,
thy liberty in law.

My New Favorite Dress

I bought it. I broke down and bought it - the beautiful dress I swooned over while in the dressing room at Anthropologie during our visit to Seattle a few weeks ago. Here is a little peek at the pretty pattern on this textured polyester knit dress from designer Maeve, which I plan on wearing to my friend's outdoor wedding one week from today. It's hard for me to pay full-price on items at Anthropologie but after nearly two weeks of thinking about this dress, I decided to use my clothes savings and go for it. And surprisingly, when I called customer service last Friday to place my order, I was able to score a friendly discount and free shipping, thanks to the sweet sales rep I spoke with. What a blessing! Now, if only I could find a miniature version of this dress for Ruby, so that we can match...

Ken, Ruby, and I are settling back into our routine post-trip. Baby girl is gradually sleeping more. We've had a couple great nights in the last two weeks; overall, it's been fairly challenging, as I came down with a horrible cold this week which coincided with a possible growth spurt for baby girl (translate: extra nightly feedings and less sleeping.) Juggling kleenex in one hand and a water glass in the other, I focused on keeping my germs away from Ruby as much as possible while nursing. 

Baby girl recently had her two-month baby wellness exam and she is now about 13 lbs and 24 inches long. Our pediatrician said that Ruby is very healthy and growing strong. She loves to smile, hold her head up, and steady her gaze on bright lights, colors, and faces she recognizes. Cooing and babbling, Ruby excitedly tries to talk on a regular basis. At the prompting of articles on child development, I now focus on reading to Ruby as often as possible. Anything from newspaper feature stories to magazine clippings to contemporary novels, as well as morning Bible readings. She gets a kick out of the many stories I make up for her, and recite aloud, particularly those about a little girl, ironically also named Ruby.  

Baby girl has such a happy and joyful demeanor, especially after good food and good sleep. She's just like her mama. 

Among other news, a 5.8 magnitude earthquake shook our house quite vigorously two Wednesdays ago. I'm becoming familiar with these ground tremblings, since Alaska experiences quakes often. Although, I can't say that I like them. When the house first began to wobble, I instinctively grabbed baby girl and ducked under our sturdy dining room table. This was shortly after my late lunch that afternoon. Ruby didn't seem to notice as I continued nursing her from the comfort of the hard, cold tile floor beneath us. In conjunction with my new surroundings, this was the perfect opportunity for me to notice the cobwebs and hairballs gathering under the table. Happily, the earthquake ended quickly and we were able to return to the comfort of our living room recliner. 

Here is a photo of the two of us cuddling back on the couch, safe and sound following the earthquake. 

As we approach the three-month mark in parenting, I feel abundantly blessed by the community of friends and family who have surrounded us in this season, particularly those who have supported us in prayer and through meal delivery, childcare, care packages and words of love and affirmation. Thank you so much! Ken and I are smitten with this sweet, gentle, curious, observant, and kind young lady who graced our lives nearly three months ago. God is revealing to me an even richer understanding of His grace and goodness, as Ken and I journey through parenthood. I had no idea how much I would love becoming a mom. It truly is a gift that I accept with reverence, recognizing the weight of this blessing.

I look forward to sharing more updates and pics with you soon!

My Latelys

I can't believe it's May already. May 27th to be exact. Nearly a month has passed since I've shared a blog post (more like journal entry), I think to myself, as I sprawl out on our sturdy wooden bench at the dining room table. The cool, smooth surface of the wood feels refreshing against my skin. Coupled with this quiet moment, I breathe deeply and relax.

My body instinctively tenses as I hear a few tiny squeaks from the safari-themed baby bouncer to my right. I notice my body clenching; I'm feeling hopeful and yet realistic about what will happen next. Is she going to wake up? Or continue sleeping? My window of opportunity for accomplishing small tasks (i.e eating a meal, paying bills, folding laundry, or loading the dishwasher) is quickly closing, as baby girl's cute squeaks transition into shrieks and crying. Ruby wants to be held close, so I put down my lunch plate of warm veggie pasta, in all its savory goodness, and cuddle with her on the couch. Cuddling turns into nursing, and then napping - napping on mama's chest. An hour or two passes, and I try to maneuver my way off the recliner with a sleeping baby in my arms. She immediately senses that I'm trying to put her down and crying ensues.

And we are now back to cuddling.

From what I've read and heard, this is a phase - a sweet, albeit exhausting phase - where baby girl wants to be held all the time. On any given day, this will include 5-10 minutes here and there of playtime, called "Tummy Time," where baby girl is placed on her stomach and practices lifting her head and legs. It's a form of strength-training. Ruby typically likes the first few minutes of Tummy Time and then wants to be held again. I also try to hoist her around in our baby carrier front-pack, but unless I time it for right after a feeding, she freaks out and tries to nurse, despite whatever I am wearing. Thankfully, she is starting to enjoy her bouncer chair more often, and as part of my daily routine, I set her in there while I race around the kitchen compiling snacks or throwing together a meal. She can see me and that works for a short time.

Ah, the life of a brand-new mom. My days are structured around Ruby: nursing her, changing diapers, encouraging naps, and baby playtime. All these responsibilities are new to me, and I'm trying to balance them gracefully. There are moments when I remember what life was like before Ruby: sleeping in on the weekend - or just sleeping in general, preparing extravagant home-cooked meals and desserts for Ken and company, and hosting friends and family on a regular basis. Our house was well-kept most of the time, and clean laundry didn't pile up in the dryer for days (or weeks) on end. Ken and I made plans and were consistent in them.

My how times have changed. In this season of acclimating to a baby at home, I sense that God is growing my ability to hold things loosely. I no longer plan things with such definitive expectations. Mostly, I verbalize my desires with a keen awareness that something could change - my days are currently centered around taking care of my baby. A baby who is tender and reliant on Ken and me for everything. We are her world right now. (Well, us and the wild, black-and-white creature named "Penny" who likes to lick her face.)

As I adjust to all these things, I think about how beautiful and unique this time in my life is, where I have the opportunity to be at home with Ruby. I get to watch her grow and develop. I treasure her gentle heart, energetic spirit, and curiosity about the space around her. I'm her mom and she feels safe with me. Our home is a place of joy and hope and life. In truth, it also a place of challenge, as I juggle my new role of mother as well as wife and friend. At times, I have to remind myself that only in taking good care of my health and wellness, am I then able to take care of others. There's a reason why, when traveling on an airplane, emergency protocol dictates that parents are to put the oxygen masks on themselves first, before placing one on their child. I didn't understand this concept as a teenager, in hearing it broadcast over the plane's intercom. Only years later, through counseling, did I recognize the incredibly helpful metaphor that is for my life. In order to help others, it's best for me to operate from a place of strength. The strength that God provides, especially when I feel weak and exhausted and overwhelmed - strength I choose to pursue by practicing peace and rest, which looks very different in this season but is still just as important.

Savoring the small things. Like steaming hot showers, crisp bed linens, freshly vacuumed carpets, and soothing cups of tea. As well as celebrating the nights when we are blessed with a few hours of interrupted sleep. These are examples of how God is renewing my spirit and equipping me with endurance for this journey of motherhood. I find it interesting that in learning how to take care of Ruby, I'm also learning how to better take care of myself.

On that note, I better head out. I hear soft squeaks coming from Ruby's direction. She needs her mama.

Thoughts on Sleepless Nights & Becoming a Mom

It's been 18 days now since I gave birth to my sweet baby girl, Ruby. Yesterday, I met with my family practitioner and she removed the surgical tape covering my stitches, remnants from my emergency c-section. Her incredibly quick hands stripped the adhesive bandages in record time. I felt a few sharp pinches on my abdomen and before I could fully register the pain, she had completed her task and whipped out a mirror to show me what it looked like down there: a thin, shadowy line running horizontal above my pelvis.

Thankfully, I'm no longer afraid of what I see. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, stripped down before my daily shower, I analyze the ever-changing shape of my body. Each new curve, stretch mark, and scar is fascinating. Prior to labor and delivery, the nurses at my women's clinic would brag about how beautiful my light-brown skin was. They'd say things like, "It's not fair," and "I can't believe you have no stretch marks from being pregnant." Phrases that women tell other women in a sort of backhanded compliment, which translates to "I'm jealous."

Somehow that all changed once I gave birth to my baby. Stretch marks magically appeared all around my belly and my once-flawless complexion morphed into blotchy patches of discoloration. How ironic.

Becoming a mother has truly changed me, both physically and emotionally. While I'm fairly close to my pre-pregnancy weight, thanks largely in part to a rapid 20-lb weight loss during delivery, I recognize that my body has transformed. It's so different.

I'm a mom now. And as such, my body accommodates the needs of my baby - her constant nursing, and desire to cuddle.

Likewise, I feel a strong mothering instinct. I must protect my baby girl, taking great care to feed her and watch over her. Most nights, I fall asleep listening to the sound of her breathing, focusing on every inhale and exhale, ensuring that she's still alive and safe.

To put things in perspective, before having baby Ruby in my life, I had no idea how challenging parenting could be. Sure, friends and family always had their stories to share but until I became a mom, I didn't realize that I could function on so little sleep each night, supplemented by fragmented naps throughout the day. In certain ways, I feel like the worst version of myself: crazy-haired girl who currently lives in her pink and white bathrobe and occasionally (or frequently) forgets if she brushed her teeth or changed her underwear, all while operating in a delirious state of exhaustion each day. Taking care of a baby. That's my life right now.

On the flip side, I also live within the tension that yes, I don't have it all together most days. And yes, I will probably only wear makeup for special occasions in the coming days/weeks/months? But, I'm now a mom and doing things right in so many ways. I have the privilege of raising a baby girl to know that she is loved and cared for, and I get to work through my own sense of selfishness and self-centered desires on a daily basis. It's true that my life has changed forever - my identity and expectations are adapting to accommodate the child who relies on me for everything.  Rather than focusing on all the things I'm giving up (sleep, appearance, sanity), God is constantly reminding me of what I've been given. The gift of a baby girl that I get to steward and raise and protect.

I had no idea how challenging and rewarding, this new season would be. Perhaps, this is reason still to give thanks. I'm finding that there is grace in not being able to see what lies ahead, stepping out in faith into the great unknown.

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” 

C.S. Lewis

Baby Ruby: My Birth Story

What are some defining characteristics about my birth story? I think to myself, as my legs tremble slightly and a rush of heat glides across my cheeks and forehead. The muscles in my abdomen tighten, as I glance down at my now much flatter stomach. A deep surge of pain radiates through my lower right side, and I’m reminded of my surgery – being hoisted onto a brightly lit operating table, with a huge team of medical personnel poised for action, focused and attentive, as my family practitioner facilitated each cut, each movement, and extremely quick extraction of my baby girl from my womb.

Pressure, they said I’d feel pressure and no pain. The surgeons and nurses briefed me, in what felt like seconds, on what I could expect as I was wheeled into the operating room. It was an emergency C-section, and my situation had just bumped the lady who had been waiting to go into surgery before me. In less than 30 minutes from start to finish, I heard baby Ruby’s first loud cry – as if Heaven and Hell were being shaken, and watched as she was immediately carried to a warm baby incubator station to my left. Whisked over to her by a nurse, Ken observed as Ruby was cleaned and suctioned, and got to help cut her umbilical cord.

Without delay, she was brought to me for a moment, and I started crying. Ruby is so beautiful, I whispered, as I fought to control my emotions.

Shaking, I couldn’t stop shaking. A sweet nurse clutched my hands as I said good-bye to Ken and baby Ruby, who were then taken to the recovery room, while my body was sown back up. My eyes caught a flash of light reflecting off the mirror above my head and I could just barely make out the scene taking place below the giant blue wall of sterile curtains.

I cringed, and looked away.

“Water, I need water!” I begged the hospital staff, as multiple blue-coated, facemask-donned workers passed to my right and left.

“You must wait, I’m so sorry,” each person replied, as I became increasingly agitated and desperate.

“I’m going to throw up. I feel so sick. Please just a drop,” I instinctively bellowed, in a Hail Mary attempt to gain access to any form of hydration.

I instantly started dry heaving, as my body went into shock, while a nurse grabbed me a small plastic container to catch throw up. My stomach was completely empty, except for a few small drops of saliva. Those were now in the plastic container.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Thoughts swirled above me, caught up in the mix of incredibly white fluorescent light shining on my face. Unsure if I was dreaming or delirious, I thought back over the last 24 hours.

Just yesterday, I had checked into the hospital as a labor induction. Baby girl was nearly two weeks past due and at my doctor’s urging, along with a peace that it was time to ‘get things moving along,’ my husband, my friend Alisa, and my mother-in-law accompanied me, as I prepared for what I hoped would only take the day. The doctors were aware of my desire to move through labor as “naturally” as possible. I had met with them for the past 9+months and they understand how earnestly I desired a normal, vaginal birth for baby girl. Because of that, my Doctor began by breaking my water at 10 a.m. in hopes of getting contractions going. By 2 p.m., I was still only dilated to about 3 cm, so I was given my first IV and slowly fed Pitocin, which mimics the body’s Oxytocin hormone, and hooked up to an electric baby-monitoring device. My pain gradually intensified although by the evening, I still had not dilated any further. My Doctor then inserted a contraction monitor into my uterus, to pinpoint the strength of each contraction. By using that device, the nurses were able to up my Pitocin level to a higher level.

My pain continued to grow, as I moved through contractions 1 ½ to 2 minutes apart that registered as ‘very strong’ on the monitor.

This really hurts, I thought multiple times, as I focused on breathing and relaxation techniques, exercise, and rest. By early morning, I was only about 5 cm dilated with a fever rising from an infection now plaguing my body. Since my water was broken so early the previous day, bacteria got inside my uterus and was making it harder for baby girl to be comfortable and safe. Multiple times, the nurses asked me to breathe into an oxygen mask, hoping to assist my baby through the stress of labor. Her heart rate would drop intermittently, in spurts, and that completely freaked me out.

My desire to labor naturally quickly diminished after realizing that baby girl was not coming out. Something was wrong, and I was scared for her. I needed to protect my precious little girl, and at the bidding of the night nurse, I finally decided to get an epidural in hopes of relaxing my body enough to continue dilating. Those few hours of relief from the intense pain allowed me a few short moments of rest and quiet. Ken held me in bed, as I questioned what was going on with my body. I cried out to God and asked Him to please keep my baby safe, at all costs. I was willing to do anything.

A few hours later, my Doctor came in to consult with me. It was a little past 7 a.m. and I still had not gained any ground in dilating. My body was exhausted; I was feverish, and unable to move through the labor process.

I broke down crying - those sobbing, hysterical cries that reflected the intense disappointment deep within my heart. Failed expectations. Grief over what I could not control. Fear over what comes next.

“Yes,” I resolved, giving all I that I had left to say those words. “I will do whatever it takes to get baby girl out safely. I’m ready for a C-section.”

---

It’s been a little over a week since my beautiful baby girl Ruby greeted this world. Every day I feel stronger, and better able to work through my feelings about how things went while at the hospital.

My battle scars are slowly fading, as I trace the outline of three separate IV sites on my left arm, place my fingers on the remaining surgical tape below my belly, and wean myself off my prescription narcotics for pain. I spent six days in the hospital, as both baby girl and I underwent rounds of antibiotics. At one point, my initial infection seemed under control and then suddenly I had another separate infection. My Doctor put me on three different antibiotics and ran all different tests to rule out other causes. It was all very uncomfortable.

But I can say without any doubt in my mind that my baby was worth fighting for. Everything I experienced, in labor and post-delivery, paled in comparison to the incredible joy of holding the most beautiful child in my arms. Nursing her and cuddling her, and speaking words of life over her. Her delicate features are breathtaking. Ruby’s soft, delicate skin and her long eyelashes. Her medium brown hair and grayish-blue eyes. Her ever-changing facial expressions. The way she immediately responded to my voice that first time, and every subsequent time, when I’ve tried to comfort her.

Pain took on a completely new meaning for me through the birth of my baby. I didn’t get the ‘picture-perfect’, Pinterest-worthy birthing process that I so earnestly longed for. All the natural birthing books that I diligently read and studied, didn’t apply when I had to make the decision to have a C-section. Likewise, all the stories from other women about how they navigated their own labor, faded into the background, as I walked through my very own story of labor and delivery.

And this is how it had to be.

These past couple weeks, I’ve grown in ways that I can’t easily describe. God walked with me through some of my deepest fears and I came out on the other side. Stronger and better equipped, perhaps, to handle setbacks – believing in faith that God knows what’s best for me. Although I’m still struggling to do many of the normal tasks that many mothers are able to do right away (such as driving, lifting more than 10lbs, cooking, cleaning), I want to give myself extra grace in that I’m recovering from major surgery.

My body and my heart are healing. And that’s OK.

I’ve been blessed more than I could ever imagine with the gift of stewarding a little human. Baby Ruby is a treasure, an example of God’s rich love for me. She is healthy and strong, and full of life. I praise God for her, and for the unique story of her birth.

My hope is that Ruby will grow to recognize that there is hidden beauty in unmet expectations, and that life is worth fighting for.

I fought for her, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Week #38: Antsy or Excited? Maybe Both.

38 weeks and 3 days. Besides my nonexistent St. Patrick's Day festivities, I'm celebrating being one step closer to my due date and arrival of baby girl. Today is a great day.

At my Doctor's appointment this morning, she noted that while my cervix is still closed, it is thinning out, which is exciting. My baby belly measures 37 cm and baby girl's heart is beating at 135 beats/minute. She is growing splendidly. I'm so thankful for her continued healthy development and trying to be present with each passing day, rather than wondering when I'll finally get to meet her.

This is no small feat, however.

Every day now I think to myself, "Is this the day?" and "What if she comes 2 weeks late?!" or even, "What if she doesn't want to come out - she seems so happy inside my belly?"

I laugh to myself, as I realize that baby girl will come out soon, it's just a matter of time. Time is such an uncertain thing, especially in this season of waiting for her arrival. I've been much antsier than normal as I glance at our hanging "Goats in Trees" photo calendar on a daily basis, counting down the days until my due date. No, it's not because those goats can climb so incredibly high up in those scraggly trees - instead, my anxiety is triggered by my own expectations and perhaps those of others, as I wait patiently on the timing of baby girl's birth.

This last week, I felt very exhausted. I've been sleeping less than normal, as I get up to use the bathroom 2-4 times a night and constantly try to find a comfortable position for my growing body in bed. I've also been experiencing more vivid dreams at night. All of this is normal, according to my reading but it sure feels weird to me in never having been pregnant before.

Likewise, my excitement is growing with each new day. I feel more empowered and encouraged to have this baby in the most natural way possible, especially after talking to my Mom this morning. She shared how for each of my sisters and I, she had a relatively short labor, and viewed her contractions as waves of energy that she worked through - rather than "pain" that she needed to overcome. I'm praying, rather intently, that my labor is as short as hers. I'm also praying that God will surprise me in enabling me to become much stronger and more relaxed than I think is possible, so that I can move through each stage of labor and experience the incredible joy of birthing a baby rather than focusing on the potential discomfort of it all.

Please join me in this prayer.

On a separate note, as a fun pregnancy treat for myself, I recently purchased my first heat roller system for curling my hair. My stylist told me that it could be a nice alternative to using a curling iron, since I've been exhausted standing and curling each section of my hair in the mornings. Instead, she said, I can set these 'bad boys' in my hair and do my makeup or anything else, while I wait for my hair to set. I found this idea fascinating and tried out my heat curlers for the first time last week.

At first, everything seemed so ridiculously easy. I got out the heat curlers. I plugged in the unit. I waited for the light to change from red to "translucent white."

But the light never changed color.
And still, I waited.

I waited for 30 minutes while these heat rollers heated up, and let's just say that when I went to put these rollers in my hair, I cursed louder and more passionately than a drunken sailor. I used words that I didn't even realize I could speak. And I screamed them - alone in the bathroom - as I waited for the pain of my burning fingers, my singed ears, and my fried hair to subside. Sometime during this whole process, I broke down crying, unplugged the rollers, and decided that this was not the best system for me.

Fast forward to two days later - I decided that I wanted to try again. So, I came prepared with my thick, black fingered gloves and lots of patience. I plugged in the heat curlers and waited about 10 minutes before using them. The rollers were ridiculously hot and with the aid of my gloves, I was moderately successful in getting all of my hair into a roller. Then, I waited 30 minutes while they 'set' and did my makeup. I'll include some photos.

Heat Curlers - Second Attempt

At least I'm smiling this time...

Awesome hair!! (Albeit worth the emotional cost? Not sure.)

It seemed to work in making my hair look nice, but I'm skeptical as to whether this process is truly easier than using a standard curling iron. I may be making a trip back to the store to return these heat curlers very soon. I'm trying to give it a week and not make any rash decisions. 

I'm also planning on this week's pregnancy 'treat' being something much safer and/or comfortable. Perhaps a seasonal latte at Starbucks or a new pair of socks? Trivial things that won't make me freak out. I would like to keep my language well-mannered, as baby girl can hear me pretty well these days...