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 #33: Healthy & Kicking!

33 weeks and a couple of days. 

This is where I find myself at in pregnancy.

My belly is growing steadily and as of this morning's office visit, measures 34 cm. My doctor said that baby girl's heartbeat sounds wonderful and she's definitely getting stronger with each passing day, as her kicks, twirls, punches, and hiccups are very noticeable.

A few days ago, I noticed something extremely new to me! Baby girl responded to my voice, I think, and reached out either her hand or foot toward the right side of my belly button. I pressed my hand onto that spot and noticed the indentation of her reaching back toward me. Initially, I freaked out and may or may not have screamed. This was the first time I could see an actual foot/hand pressing out far enough for me to make out the shape. It was incredible and beautiful and kind of scary. According to my reading, this week my amniotic fluid has maxed out, meaning that baby girl has less and less room to move about freely. Perhaps that's why I can now I see her more easily?

She is amazing - our very own miracle in human form.

Baby girl is now about 17-19 inches in length and the size of a pineapple (or heft at least) and weighs in at 4 1/2 lbs or so. Her eyes open and close easily, depending on when she is awake or asleep. Her skeleton is hardening and her head circumference is also increasing, by about half an inch this week, as her brain develops and grows. She now has her own immune system as well! How cool is that?

Baby girl is getting ready to make her debut!

As far as mama's developments, I'm currently experiencing shortness of breath as a common part of life. While I'm getting ready (i.e. reaching toward my feet to put on socks and applying makeup), I find myself pausing to catch my breathe and will usually sit down to relax rather fast. I don't know how I can get used to this feeling - like the wind is knocked out of me without being hit in the stomach with a soccer ball or sprinting a mile. Baby girl obviously needs my energy and I'm happy to share with her. If only I could realize in the moment that I'm not having a panic attack or about to pass out but rather, it's just a momentary lapse in deep breathing. I think I'm getting there slowly, and as Ken says, by the time I finally give birth to baby girl, I will probably come to accept being pregnant. How ironic.

This past week, both Ken and I were hit with some variation of a cold and are still on the mend. I compensated for a few sleepless nights by taking 1-2 naps a day throughout the week. Napping and eating are great. Speaking of which, my appetite hasn't failed and here are some of the meals I've been enjoying:

Lots of berries! Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries...

Loaded spinach salad with a tuna sandwich

Homemade moose chili

Veggie frittata (crustless quiche) with toast, greek yogurt and berries 

One week from today, Ken and I are scheduled for our final ultrasound. I can't wait to see baby girl in utero one more time before she arrives. I look forward to sharing a couple of those photos with you!

Thank you for praying for us and for baby girl's health.

Your love and support - as evinced by the beautiful cards and gifts we keep receiving - are so appreciated. Ken and I are currently saving for a baby stroller along with a few more equipment items and trusting God to meet us in all these things (especially the cost of actually having a baby!) as we just got hit with some large, unexpected financial setbacks.

I'm reminded of a quote by C.S. Lewis: “Courage is not simply one of the virtues but the form of every virtue at the testing point, which means at the point of highest reality. ”

And this verse: "Therefore we do not lose heart...For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

In faith, I believe that God will continue to provide for us in every circumstance and every season. We are so very blessed.

Week 30: Homemade Apple Pie & Afternoon Naps

To kick off Week 30 of pregnancy, I baked homemade apple pie. With the help of Ken's excellent dough-rolling skills, I was able to create my favorite version using my Grandma Elsa's Apple Pie Recipe. The combination of red and green apples added a touch of diversity in taste - sweet, tart, and bright flavors paired well with the buttery, flakey pie crust.

Grandma would be proud of my handiwork. She taught me so much in her second floor, tile-lined kitchen, with its patches of sticky coating - most likely caused by flying bits of sugar and butter from all of our cooking and baking together. Grandma was such a strong woman - my mom's mom, she grew up in the Bronx, and loved telling inappropriate New York cab driver jokes and reminiscing about her travels growing up and into adulthood. In many ways, I think she tried to be a second mom to me, particularly when my parents separated and eventually divorced. I miss her wisdom, strength, and love for learning. As a young child, she'd point me to her large living room bookcase - where there sat a dictionary, a thesaurus, an almanac, and a hefty concordance of the Bible - any time I had a question about the world, or God, or the meaning of a big word. I can still hear her now: "Maile, go and get the book! Let's look it up." And we did. Every, single time. Until the days when Grandma got too weak and breathless, and prepared to leave us. Then, she just wanted to hear me talk and neither of us asked too many questions.

I still miss her. Often, when I catch myself reflecting on a favorite memory or recipe of hers, I start to cry. Grandma Elsa would be so excited that I'm pregnant. I hope that I can pass along some of her best attributes to my daughter. Along with her cooking, of course.

This week marks 30 weeks in baby girl's development. She now weighs 3lbs or more and measures roughly 15 1/2 inches from head to foot. She's the size of a large cabbage, according to my reading, and her bone marrow has started producing red blood cells. Her brain is forming ridges and growing steadily, and is helping to regulate her body temperature along with her increasing fat cells. Baby girl's eyesight is also strengthening. Similar to her ability to kick. I'm impressed by how quickly she is able to get my attention these days, particularly when I'm relaxing or sleeping. I believe that she is starting to recognize Ken's voice since I've noticed an increase in activity when he is close by. We are growing in anticipation of meeting our sweet little girl!

At my most recent doctor visit, my belly bump measured 31cm, which is right on track for healthy development. Her heart beat is also normal and thankfully, the only symptoms I'm experiencing in this stage of pregnancy are increased heartburn and occasional backpain. Last night, I woke up feeling very uncomfortable, as I'm struggling to find a good sleeping position that accommodates my growing belly! I go back and forth between using my giant body pillow and my normal head pillow, as I overheat quite easily these days. I'm trying to remind myself what a blessing it is that I can now take afternoon naps. Especially on days when I've gone without much sleep the previous night. Friday was my last day at my full-time job and I'm looking forward to lots more napping in my future (along with continued progress on the nursery!)

Speaking of which, I took a lovely hour-long nap this afternoon and am feeling refreshed. I suppose it's time to head back into the kitchen and tackle the remainder of yesterday's mess from my baking endeavors. Here are some photos of our pie making yesterday.

Enjoy!
Maile

Hello 3rd Trimester: 28 Weeks & Counting!

"Hello Baby Girl!" I exclaim, whenever I feel her kicking or dancing these days. My beautiful little baby loves to move around in utero - day or night, I can feel her stirring when I get excited, eat a tasty meal, or jump around with Penny, our dog. She is 28 weeks old, and according to my reading, weighs nearly 2 1/2 lbs, measures up to 16 inches (head to toe), can open and close her eyes, and may now be dreaming as she moves through REM cycles of sleep. She's about the size of a large eggplant, and will start to hold onto body fat in the coming weeks, as she develops.

I'm officially in my third trimester of pregnancy! That means I only have 11-12 weeks (roughly three months) remaining until baby girl is full-term. My prayer is that our sweet baby will continue to develop strong and healthy, and greet the world when she is ready. I'm curious to see if she makes it to 40 weeks, or arrives sooner or later than that.

So far, I'm feeling good overall, with my most noticeable pregnancy changes being increased exhaustion and a constantly stuffy nose. I've gained about 15 pounds in the past 6 1/2 months and can expect to put on another pound a week until birth. Average weight gain for pregnancy is about 25-35 lbs, and I'm trying to practice peace in this particular area of my life, as gaining weight has always had such a negative connotation to me. God continues to equip me with grace for this journey and I'm amazed at how much joy I've gained in this season of anticipation. I'm so excited to become a mom!

My appetite has grown steadily in the past few weeks. Ironically, since my belly is growing just as fast, I'm unable to eat as large of meals as I would like. I'm continuing to snack on fruits, veggies, cheese, and crackers (with my newest craving being Mauna Loa brand chocolate-covered macadamia nuts!) Chocolate has worked its way back onto my list of favorite things, after I gave it up almost completely during my first trimester. Something I also learned about myself recently is that I can eat a whole pineapple on my own. It has to be fresh, ripe, and preferably, Hawaii-grown. Baby girl is Hawaiian at heart, I can already tell!

Here are a couple photos of our meals this past week. I've noticed myself craving protein more frequently.

Broccoli, zucchini, onion, and bacon omelet 

Avocado, shredded carrot, and cheddar cheese sandwich  

I'm looking forward to seeing what these next few months will hold for our little family of three (four, if you include Penny.) Thanks for stopping by and for supporting us in this journey toward parenthood!

Mile Marker: 22 Weeks & Counting!

Today marks Week 22 for me! With only 18 weeks remaining until my expected due date (roughly 4 1/2 months), I'm more than halfway through pregnancy. Praise God for this marvelous event taking place before my eyes! My belly is growing fast, which is a tangible representation of the baby forming even quicker inside of me. Our baby girl is now roughly the size of a spaghetti squash, weighs about one pound and is 8 inches long, according to my go-to baby book, What to Expect When You're Expecting. 

Here, Ken holds a spaghetti squash we got from the grocer recently. We both agree that baby girl is most likely not this big...

She is developing her sense of touch in utero, along with her ability to distinguish between light and dark. Baby girl can also hear my voice now, along with my heartbeat, my constant stomach growls, and the sound of blood swooshing through my body. Crazy, right? I'm amazed and astounded at the incredible beauty of new life as it grows and develops in my belly. She is a live being - a picture of a Creative Force at work in me and the world around me. 

Honestly, I'm blown away by this whole process.

My body is going through many changes right now. Besides the typical increase in swelling and inflammation in my body from pregnancy, my feet seem to be 1/4 inch bigger! All my cute heels, pumps and wedges that were a 'perfect fit' a few months ago, now feel a bit snug. While I ditched my favorite form-fitting, bodycon work dresses weeks back - which seemed normal - I can't get over the need to start wearing bigger shoes. But, for baby girl, I'll do it! I'm becoming more relaxed with myself when it comes to changing shapes and sizes, and I want to continue to embrace this new season in all of its intricacies.

I've also received quite a few remarks about the new ring I'm sporting on my wedding finger! Coworkers, along with random people I meet while out running errands, stop to ask me about my cushion-cut aquamarine 'bling'. Thankfully, I have this white gold stand-in that Ken gave me for our anniversary to take the place of my preferred yellow gold diamond wedding band, while my fingers are larger than ever from swelling. Although I like this new ring a lot, I feel so weird without the ring I've worn for these past four and a half years. I look forward to switching back to my primary ring after baby arrives.

These days, my focus is shifting from "What can I wear?" to "What will baby girl wear?" As a special present to myself, I decided that once we found out the baby's gender, I'd buy a few little outfits for her/him. Which, I should add, was ridiculously fun. My mother-in-law and a couple coworkers blessed me with a few baby outfits, and then I picked out a couple sale items at my favorite stores in town. I'd love to share those with you! I'm finding that I really like soft fabrics, sweet details (like ruffles), and standout prints - case in point: the baby pink whales, flowers, foxes, and popsicles you'll see below.

What do you think?

     

God continues to reveal His grace for me, as I learn and grow in this season. I'm so excited for the unique blessing of becoming a mom, and pray that these next 4 1/2 months will continue to go smoothly, as I practice love for myself and care for this baby developing in my body.

Thanks for sharing in this journey with me, and Ken, and baby girl.

~ m

The Value of Penny, and Patience

"A Penny saved is a Penny earned." 

-- 17th century quote

As I walked along the dusty, trash-lined, makeshift parking lot only yards from oncoming traffic and a bustling state highway, I glanced at the bright red lettering lining the tall wooden fence; its fiery hue set against a stark white placard: "Boarding Grooming & Training." The direct language implying, Let's cut to the chase: this is what we do. If you're looking for something else, go somewhere else. At least, that's how I felt upon reading their sign and observing the not-so-prime location. 

Ken and I were on a mission late yesterday afternoon, and this was a key part of it: securing, through cash payment, our new pup. And regardless of the physical location of the dog compound, we wanted this little lady so badly, and were willing to do anything to bring her home. 

Only four days earlier, Ken and I first heard about this sweet border collie mix brought to an animal rescue shelter in south Anchorage from a remote Alaskan village outside of Barrow. The puppy's family could no longer care for her and decided that instead of euthanizing her, they'd send her to the shelter. It was Tuesday during my work shift, when I first heard about her. My coworker, who had graciously been on the lookout for a border collie for me, called over to me: "Did you see the photos I sent you? There's a border collie up for adoption. You'll need to act quick because they go fast." At her prompting, I immediately emailed the rescue shelter and asked for information on the pup. They responded curtly to fill out an application and send it back. Apparently, this dog was in high demand already. I found out from a shelter volunteer that nearly eight families were vying for her affection. The weight of my expectations started to sink deep. All week, my mind vasillated between my hopes and fears: What if we couldn't get her? But I really want this dog. How will the shelter pick who they want to be her owner? What if it's not us? I decided to start praying for her by name. Penny. I wanted to name her Penny. My prayers went something like this: "Lord, please help us to get Penny if it's your will. Please show us if this is the dog you want us to have, and give us the grace we need to be good owners."

As the work week wrapped up, I couldn't get over my excitement and anticipation about seeing Penny and hearing if we'd get to have her. Disappointedly, Ken and I found out that the animal clinic was scheduled from 1 p.m. to 5 p.m. on Saturday--the exact time that we had scheduled our Housewarming Party with family and friends. We were both discouraged about the time conflict, and felt it was important to continue with our current plan of having all our guests over for the party that we had planned weeks in advance. Unfortunately, the clinic supervisor informed us that only those applicants who attended the clinic and met with the puppy would be considered in her adoption. So with more than a bit of uncertainty, we decided that Ken would drive to the animal clinic and visit with Penny at 1 p.m. and then come right back to the party, as soon as he could. 

The day of the clinic arrived, along with our Housewarming Party, and while I finished icing my homemade molten-chocolate-cream-cheese cupcakes, Ken showered and got ready to drive south to the animal shelter. Before he left, we said a quick prayer of hopeful expectation, trusting God for the outcome of this decision. 

As guests arrived and food was dished out, I glanced at my phone to see if Ken had any updates on the dog. He sent me one text with a picture of a fluffy Karelian bear dog; the caption read, "Eh?" I quickly called Ken in response, to find out if Penny had been adopted, assuming that perhaps Ken was moving on to 'Plan B' options in hopes of curbing my disappointment. "Is she there? Did you get to see her?" I asked inquisitively. "Nope, not yet," Ken responded. "They are still bringing all the dogs out. I'll let you know what happens." At that point, I decided to just enjoy our party and focus on spending time with our friends and relatives who had come out to see our new place. I placed my phone in a corner, and proceeded to make a pulled chicken sandwich, which I enjoyed while watching my friends' kids run around our spacious new backyard. The sounds of children screaming happily, as they played outdoors, coupled with the conversations and connections taking place around me, were encouraging. Finally, Ken and I have a place of our own, where we can spread out and enjoy good company, I thought to myself. A few minutes later, Ken walked in the front door, empty-handed but with a smile on his face. "Welcome home," I said, as I built him a plate of baked brie with Grandma Dorothy's crab apple jam, alongside a pulled chicken sandwich with bacon potato salad. 

It turned out that Ken was only the person who wanted to see Penny at the start of the clinic, so he got to spend lots of time walking her around--if walking is the right word. She was very overstimulated, Ken conveyed, as he described the tight kennels the dogs were kept in. "But I really like her," he continued. "We'll have to wait and see what they decide. It turns out that 48 people applied for Penny, so they are going to decide who is the best fit to adopt her." 

Forty-eight people. That number caught me off guard. That's so many people, I thought to myself.

At 5:35 p.m., we got the call. The animal shelter had picked us! They wanted us to come in right away to pay for the puppy. Bring cash, they said. Ken and I were overjoyed. 

As the party drew to a close, we shuffled through the house, gathering things to head out the door. Beaming with excitement and a sense of wonderment following the day's events, I asked the shelter supervisor why they picked us out of all the people interested. She, along with another volunteer seated in the waiting room, said that they were blown away by Ken's patience toward Penny. A spunky, enthusiastic dog who completely lacked any type of obedience training, Penny was misunderstood by all the other people who wanted to adopt her. In their frustration, people would jerk tightly at Penny's collar, forcing her to bend to their will, and conveyed their anger, rather than trying to understand how to better instruct the puppy through body language, incentives, and gentle force. They didn't know how to deal with a rescue pup currently struggling with unrestrained, wild energy. 

And yet, Ken did. 

He modeled patience and instruction toward the pup, and practiced commands with a spirit of love and conviction. He guided Penny by giving her space to burn off her energy and then tried to teach her. Even though her temperament was difficult to work with, Ken saw potential where others saw disappointment. The volunteer who watched Ken walking Penny around was inspired by his way with the dog--she even went back to the supervisor and asked her to make a note about Ken in his file, as he stood out as the best person for this dog. 

Forty-eight applicants. That number initially seemed daunting, as if there was little to no hope of us getting to adopt Penny. In retrospect, I feel incredibly grateful for this opportunity. On one hand, this is the start of a new relationship we get to build with a puppy we will soon welcome into our home. Penny is ours. We got her! And we get to train her and work with her and help guide her into becoming a great companion for our family. On the other hand, I caught a glimpse--a treasured reminder, that I have an amazing husband--a man of patience and virtue, who lovingly walks alongside me in marriage and practices healthy standards of communication and expectation. He stood out among the crowd, which in this case was 48 other applicants vying for a five and a half month old puppy. In reality, though, he stands out among a much wider audience. 

I'm praising God for the immeasurable value of my husband, and the joy of our newest family member, Penny. 

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Here are some photos of Penny! Stay tuned for more...

The Day I Finally Vacuumed & Other Reflections

I decided upon the title for this blog while glancing down at the fresh cleaned carpet between my toes on Sunday afternoon. "Ooh, it feels so nice and soft," I thought to myself, as I struggled mentally to get past the now overflowing vacuum bag, consisting of equal parts gravel, dirt, dust, hair, and other disturbingly "dirty" elements. It was the first day that I officially vacuumed our new home, just shy of three months since we moved in. 

In my defense, there must have been at least one or two times where Ken vacuumed the house within the past three months. Must have. 

Fast forward to the next couple hours following my cleaning spree. I sat on the carpet, read magazines while sprawled on the carpet, and ended up lying flat on my back on the carpet of our living room floor while brainstorming fireplace ideas with Ken. It was such a wonderful feeling knowing that I wasn't going to step on a nail or muddy my clothes with residual dirt. As I reflect on the past few weeks living at our new place, I recognize that our transition into being homeowners has been quite messy. We're in the process of creating a whole 'new' home for ourselves. It's such a cool opportunity to extend grace to myself and Ken as we work out the details of our new space. I'm learning that it's OK to get behind on laundry, dishes, and yes--vacuuming. Meanwhile, as I do start to develop habits and routines, I find my excitement increasing, knowing that I'm investing in our home. Everyday, I find things that I am grateful for as well as things that I want to change, in our new home. Perhaps, that is part of the beauty of living and self-improvement--being grateful and welcoming change as an opportunity to grow. 

Ken and I continue to work toward our house project goals. Some of which include:

• Replacing the old painted lava stone facade on the fireplace with brick and a new, efficient wood-burning insert. (We are currently in the purchasing stage with the brick, which is about $100, and the saving stage with the fireplace insert. Initially, we thought the insert would be around $1500 but after actually researching fireplaces, we found out that they cost about $2500.)
• Purchasing a second bed so that we can have a comfortable setup for guests
• Installing a new fence in our backyard, as well as a new driveway
• Turning our one bathroom into two bathrooms
• Putting up blinds and eventually, replacing the storm windows
• Purchasing a couch, art, and an efficient and space-saving washer/dryer combo
• Refurbishing our kitchen with new cabinets, a larger sink, and a gas stove
• Tearing down the kitchen/living room wall and installing a reclaimed wood countertop island

Our list is inspiring and at times, daunting. Ken and I have reviewed our monthly budget countless times (which includes our income and cash dispersal for bills) and keep coming back to the simple lesson that with time, diligence, and patience, we can save for our projects. "It's the steady climb," someone once told me. As Ken and I commit to living frugally (i.e. our monthly budget for Eating Out is $50), and practice satisfaction and contentment over acquiring more "stuff", we are moving in the direction of our goals. It's pretty cool. 

And oftentimes hard. 

And uncomfortable. 

Yet, so incredibly worth it. 

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I hope you enjoy these photos of our current home additions and improvements. Thanks for stopping by!

Ken tearing down the 1970s' style stone fireplace.

All the old rock pieces are off! :)

He did an amazing job.

New sheetrock and mud coating applied.

Our new dining room table!

Plants galore.

Hung a coat rack by the door!

Ken painted accent walls in our favorite shade of pear. 

Indoor succulent garden! 

View from our house - you can see the mountains. :)

Official Homeowners! {Photos of UnderSpruce}

It's official! Ken and I are homeowners in this beautiful, snowy city of Anchorage, Alaska! From our new home, we can see the towering mountain peaks and watch the sun rise in all its glory. Our backyard will be great for a summer vegetable garden and also comfortably house the sweet pup we're hoping to get in the next couple months. (Side note: I've already picked a name for her!) 

Ken and I -- after excruciating hours of intense deliberation -- have decided to name our house UnderSpruce in honor of the giant Spruce trees in front of our home and those out back. The three trees next to our entry way provide a sheltered cove of sorts and therefore, the name "UnderSpruce" felt most fitting, as our new home will be a cove and a shelter of warmth, safety, food, and fellowship for all those who enter. I look forward to carving a wooden sign to place out front with our house name on it!

A little something off the record: I really wanted to name our home "The Shire" or "Bag-End" or "Inn at the Prancing Pony," however, Ken felt that it was going overboard or too obvious that I was copying Lord of the Rings. I beg to differ. Yet in every great marriage, there has to be lots of compromise and working things out and so with excitement (and a slight tinge of disappointment--lol), we agreed on "UnderSpruce," although secretly I will always be thinking of that reference to 'Mr. Underhill'...

We hope to host many dear friends and family members in the weeks and years to come!

Here are some photos: