40 days of poetry - Day 3

You are within the hardest day

Waiting for us to walk into it

Completely unaware of what is coming

Blissfully ignorant of evil

The luxury of ignorance

Seen in our happy step and routine

And You’ve seen us walk out

Of the hardest day

Broken, not walking as much as

Crawling

Ravaged by the knowledge of evil

Upon our people

Our tears marking the path

Where we’ve been

The ground beneath our feet

As broken by the weight upon us

As we are

Anyone would recognize the journey that

No one wants to travel

And You’re there a decade later

Tracing the scar that day left

Knowing it will never leave us

Reassuring us scars are okay

You know scars intimately

You will never leave us either

40 days of poetry - Day 2

He meets me where I am

And Where I am is broken

He leads me to stillness

All words have been spoken

He holds me tight and weeps

As tears roll down my face

He quiets with His love

And  loves with His embrace

40 days of poetry - Day 1

You begin to let Him fix one scratch

One gash

 One burn

After another

On your war-torn body

The enemy moved quickly to

Tear you up before you knew about Him

(your Father; your Creator)

He is patient

Only moving to another hurt

As you allow

It doesn’t take long before you discover

If He just removes the pieces of you

That are marred

There will be nothing left

So be it.

So you give yourself

Your whole self

To Him

You tell Him,

“Make me new”

and He replies, “it is the only way”

You allow yourself to belong to Him

To be in Him

You prepare for the pain

Prepare for your flesh to be torn from your body,

For your old wounds to be stripped away

For Him to fashion new skin upon you

The pain this will cause, you cannot

Even begin to imagine

With clenched fists and eyes closed tight, you say,

“Do it! Now, before I change my mind!”

A still, small voice, full of power replies,

“I already did.  Before your words could be spoken;

With permission from your heart.”

Opening your eyes, you see

Jesus

Beautiful, stunning, bright-shining, whole Jesus

Your instinct is to run to Him

To touch His face

Experience His reality

You laugh as you run His way

Your arms outstretched

Needing this touch

Your transformation can wait

This touch cannot

You reach Him and touch…

…glass

A mirror

You begin to examine yourself

All of your gashes and burns and cuts

Are gone

Beautiful, new, pink skin covers

Your entire body

Even the places where no pain could be seen

Covered in newness

Hesitant, not quite at home in your new skin

You look around

A dress appears

And you wear it

As you prepare to clothe the world

Storehouse - a blog for my church family, specifically

Let me tell you a story:  Once upon a time, Isaac and I came to Celebration Church drawn by the idea of a Storehouse.  We punched our fists in the air and screamed out, "YES that's what church should look like. Shut down a whole service to BE the church." We've only been a handful of times. The end.

Let me tell you another story:  A couple of months ago, I felt the most intense feeling of...purpose SUDDENLY that I've ever felt in my life.  I texted a friend and said, "I think sometime soon I'm going to really know something about my purpose from God.  Not my big purpose (we all know that, just read the bible and do what He says to do, don't get too caught up in the details) but something specific to me." I figured that sometime in the next few months, something would happen.  I kid you not, less than an hour later, I started writing something out on my phone and when I was finished something whispered in my spirit that's it, Courtney.  It was NOT what I expected.

I wrote about Storehouse.  How I yearned for more people to be "into" it.  How I didn't understand why the majority of the church wasn't coming on Storehouse nights. WHY *I* WASN'T COMING!

I want this to be the year we all help with Storehouse. 

There, I said it. 

Listen, I'm speaking to ME!  We have kids and it's HARRRRRRD with their ages.  I use the "there's no one to watch the kids" excuse but I can do better. I can help, I can figure it out.  The number of families being ministered to and loved on is growing. GROWTH!  

Please, consider helping. Tell yourself "just this one time" if it gets you in the door. We need you.  Your love, your heart, your hugs, your muscles, your presence that says, "hey Storehouse worker, you aren't alone in this.  Let's lock arms, get dirty if need be and BE the body."  

Let's feed people 

Let's clothe people 

Let's show those warm, full people that God is FOR them and has loved them unconditionally from day one. They may have never really *heard* that.  Let's show them what it looks like to see a big group of people who all look different come together as one to LOVE THEM.   We do it every Sunday to newcomers and in kids church, right?  WE GOT THIS!  Hey Celebration Church...we're GOOD at this!  We literally just have to be obedient and show up! 

Don't leave this blog feeling guilty if you haven't helped or mad at me for asking.  If you are sick, or work on Wednesdays or something obviously you can't, but maybe you can help in other ways.  Or maybe you can offer to do childcare just one Wednesday a month, during Storehouse.  Or you can come on Tuesdays and help my mom (Kim Michael) and crew hang up clothes so that people can easily find what they need.  Or you can come to the bible study that Janet and Amber are starting on Monday mornings. And we can all pray.  All of us!  

I am metaphorically, vulnerably,  standing in front of you and saying, "I messed up.  I've been selfish.  I've been scared.  I don't want to see hard things and then be accountable.  I like the idea of things more than I like actually getting involved. I am an introverted homebody.  I am more comfortable around paper than people.  HOLD ME ACCOUNTABLE!  ENCOURAGE ME!"  As I write this, I look over at Willow who is sick and I know I can't go tonight for the SECOND time this year. This year that was supposed to be the year I go every time.  What?  So, I get it.  I get you.

Listen to this song and know it's for you!

The Church - Elevation Worship

I love you Celebration Church.  All of you helpful, loving, funny, accepting people!  I hope you see my heart in this.

-C

***

The following is an excerpt from a blog I read by Ann VosKamp a month or so ago and it's a great encouragement.  I hope you have time to read it.

He raises his one free hand only slightly when he says it to us lowly, quietly, his life never about anything loud or noticeable: “All that matters is that we were Davids — David “who had served God’s purpose in his own generation” Acts 13:36.

And I can hardly nod, God so loud in my ears.

All that matters is that we are Davids who served God’s purposes in our own generation.

That we are Mrs. Stoope over stoves and grandmothers over God’s goodnesses and people over ourselves and we just take whatever is in our hands and just thank God for it and He just uses this to change the world, multiplying our thanks into the abundant Enough to give and this is what the passionate do with their hands.

We are the Davids who served not our own agendas but God’s purposes in this generation and we are the Esther Generation right here and now and it is us who want hard and holy things because we want more than hollow lives.

We are the Davids who served not some cultural ladder but God’s purposes in this generation and we are the Esther Generation rising right here and now and it is us who want a life more than self-focus and cell phones, more than iPhones, iTunes, and iLove, who want a Life of loving the least, the lonely and the lost right. where. we. are

Who know that being like Christ and caring for the poor in our homes and down the street and across town means more than just caring about easing our consciences  – it means caring enough to live lives of real sacrifice.

We are the Davids who served not ourselves but God’s purposes in this generation and there is a whole Esther Generation rising right here and now and it is us who say now is the time:

For the faith brave 
to skydive, to take wing and fly.

I run my hand along the wall built by the radical two words — thank you —  the thank IOUs of Mrs. Stoope and the cutter and the brave mother and the worshipping men and all the band of revolutionaries who were changing the world and didn’t even know it and that is what the hand of God does. God’s making a thousand things happen when we don’t even know they are happening. 

God uses the “just” moms and “just” people to do just that: just change the world – them doing just what they’re called to with just what they have in their hands, with just enough faith to say thanks.

Radical Gratitude is the attitude of the revolutionaries. The radically grateful become the being radically generous.

For you who are worn from this battle

Hey, come here. Let me give you a big hug. 

He's got you, honey. 

I would move heaven and earth to fix this for you but the only One that can do that is the One who created you. The One who created the heavens and the earth. 

He not only knew about this moment-this struggle-when He was creating you in the secret place, weaving you together in your mother's womb, He orchestrated it.  Yes, this. THIS. 

Sometimes that thought makes me feel better and sometimes it makes me feel bitter. Just being honest. 

More than anything though, in the deepest part of me, it makes me feel created. Held. Not accidental. On purpose. 

*Purpose*

He wrote this into your song (yes THIS).  Let Him lead you in rhythm. Watch your Father smile, His head thrown back in ecstasy as his baton waves wildly before you, showing you how fast, how slow, how intense, how soft to play. Play to His rhythm, listen for His heartbeat to lead you (you can hear because you're close to it). Be silent when He calls for silence. Be loud when He calls for intensity. Let him conduct. Don't be intimidated by the silences, don't try to fill them with your own music, they're there for a purpose. 

Rest in the hands that are more than big enough to hold you, your baggage, your problems, your pain and your joy. Rest in the hands capable enough to sift through all of that and see YOU. Not the broken you, the whole you.  The created you.  His you. 

As we break away from this hug know that I'm actively praying for you today, sweet child of God. Whether you know it or not He loves you and He's fighting for you. Even as you don't believe in Him, He believes in you. 

When all hope is lost, Hope hasn't lost you. 

"He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young. Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens? Who has held the dust of the earth in a basket, or weighed the mountains on the scales and the hills in a balance? “To whom will you compare me? Or who is my equal?” says the Holy One. Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing." (Isaiah 40:11, 12, 25, 26 NIV)

*on silence

"When you listen to a song, you only hear the harmony because of the emptiness between the notes.  If the song is too full of notes, it becomes nothing but noise.  To hear the harmony you have to let the silences have their place in the song.  It's like each note is a pearl upon a necklace and the silences are what strings them all together.

"Maybe God knows that without his silences in our lives, we will never hear the melody of faith.

"I think in every person's life a day comes when faith becomes a choice.  You can either give up on the silence of God or choose to trust him in the dark as Jesus did while he was dying on the cross. " - Steven James 

*Edit*

After I wrote the blog I thought of this:

It's kind of like when Willow cries for a long period of time and can't tell me why. All she can do is cry and be held while I say "I know I know". And I do, even when I don't.  God knows, He doesn't *need* your words.  Be held today!

I'm not religious...I'm spiritual

"I'm not religious...I'm spiritual" 

Me neither. 

But not in the good way that people who say that think of it.  Now before I get started there are probably a lot of ways you could get all technical about the term "religion" and how it's more than what I'm saying and not the same as "religious" but just...don't.  Hear the heart of this and let that be ok.   

This hit me when Isaac read a scripture to me the other day: I'm not religious. The Word says "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. " - James 1:27

I don't take care of widows and I don't take care of orphans. Sure, I collect clothes for them and then drop them off on the metaphorical doorstep of the church (actually, I just give them to my mom to take).  But I don't love them. Not really. That's too close for me (I have issues with intimacy, can ya tell?)  

I WANT to WANT to be serious about true religion. Not in the way we've mangled the term in American Christianity.   What do you think of when you think of the word religious?  I asked around and here is what people think of first when they just hear the word: 

Hypocrisy
Judgmental people 
Yuck 
Eye roll
Rules 
Misled
Doubled minded
Pharisee
Ritualistic 
Messy 
Misrepresentative
Snobby 
Fanatical  
Taking care of widows and orphans...wait a minute!  NO ONE said that.  

It's not good but it can be, people! 

I guess I am religious when it comes to what the world sees as religious. I'm any number of those things above, daily.  It's easy for someone to say "don't be so hard on yourself, Courtney, you're human.  We all get it wrong, what's important is that you get it right starting now."  

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I've known this for so long and just pretended to forget.  My life is busy, I've got my own issues, I'm too anxious around people, it's not my ministry.  It's NOT OK.  I wrote a blog like this on January 2nd, of this very year.   

I'm So Scared to Pray this Prayer   You should head over after this and read the whole blog (it's short) but here is what I prayed in it:

Lord, in 2013 and EVERY YEAR I HAVE LEFT break my heart of stone for what breaks yours and then give me the strength to ACT! I'm scared of what that will feel like because I've never looked head on at things in this country and others that are too horrible to see. I'm scared to pray this prayer, but I'm willing. Change me. Align my heart with Yours. Break me. I'm scared, but You have not given me a Spirit of fear.  I can't even imagine at this point that such a break is possible, as I'm typing this and telling You, I'm pretty sure I'll back out.  But I want what You want even when it hurts.  I know Your will can be done in my life.  In faith, I'm giving You a permission that you don't need, but want.  I love You with all that is within me.  Amen.  

So obviously, I've thought this before and felt pretty good about my thoughts. But I DON'T FEEL GOOD ABOUT THEM ANYMORE. I feel sick. Thoughts and good intentions don't hold the hand of a homeless woman dying with no one around to even give her human contact before she dies.  Thoughts and good intentions don't hold the sweet 7 year old boy who no one wants to raise because he's too old in the system and wild because WE DIDN'T GET TO HIM SOON ENOUGH IN THE FIRST PLACE.  What on earth am I here for? Me?  God I hope not because I'm not worth it.  I want to want this, but I'm so lazy.  (Get the vision in your head of me standing outside alone, arms dangling by my sides, head flung back, tears streaming down my face and throwing a hissy fit).  I don't want this blog to be enough. My intentions to be enough. My way with words to move OTHERS to be enough.  ACTION.  That's what is needed.   From me.

My God, my God I have forsaken you  

For myself; For my own comforts

OVERandOVERandOVERandOVER  

That's why I must die to my self

OVERandOVERandOVERandOVER

I don't care WHY you are a widow or orphan or WHERE you are a widow or orphan, I want to take care of you and I want to not be polluted by the world.  I want to be consistent in living out what I believe.  Not just to take care of others but for people who are sick of Christians to see we aren't all "religious" in the way you think of the word. I want them to see to the heart of my religion.  And then I don't want to care what anyone thinks anyway as long as I'm living out my faith.  

Brennan Manning says, “The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians: who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” 

I'M SORRY.  Weeping and on my knees I'm so, so sorry.  I am humbled by my inadequacies over these past 10 years.  And still, He'll use them for good.  

I want to be different for the glory of my God....and honestly because at least if you look at me through eyes that don't believe what I do, you can respect me for living out what I say I believe with my mouth and type with my hands.  You won't think Christianity is just an excuse to pretend you're better than others.   (It's not btw, it's SO much the opposite)

This blog canNOT be enough anymore. I don't want any "yeahs" and "high fives" even though my flesh knows I DO!  Here is a secret (as if you haven't figured it out).  I CRAVE validation and words of affirmation more than most.  I don't know where it comes from, it doesn't matter.  I just love words period.  So when they're positively flung toward me, I practically get drunk off of them.  I just want to change in the deepest part of me that no one sees and let it flow outward.  I don't have the strength for it.  But, that's ok because God's strength is made perfect in my weakness.  I have to be weak and know it's ok to feel intense feelings. I can't run away from them anymore.   I need accountability for this, but I'm scared to seek it out.  I'm not even going to get into the fact that I'm showing my kids how they should treat people...it scares me.  

One last thought.  While anyone can live a life filled with taking care of others, for Christians there's no point in taking care of widows and orphans and shutting out the loud booming voice of the world if Jesus isn't at the heart of our lives.   Let's all step back and start there.  Again and again and again if we have to. And if you don't know what I'm talking about but you're curious...talk with me about it.  I'm not going to force feed you Jesus or thump your head with a bible if that's what you're worried about.  Pastor Steve once said that the world has a gag reflex just like we have for food. If you shove Jesus down someone's throat, they'll vomit Him back up.  It's just conversation and we can assume we're adult enough to hear what one another has to say without assumption or judgement.  I'm here.  

Now before you leave, read the verse above the one I mentioned: 

Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. (James 1:26 NIV)

Ok. Let's do this.  

Willow's birth story

I'm coming back up to say that after I wrote this, I realized I never intended to write so much before I actually got to the actual birth story. The birth story starts after the ***  below.  Also, I never meant to write so much, period. Geez

Let me just start this out by saying that I love being pregnant.  I love labor and delivery and breastfeeding.  I was so sad that after Asher I wouldn't get that opportunity again because we were "done."  I talked about being a surrogate.  I never dealt with morning sickness (just food aversions and some mild nauseau for three weeks with Ash) or a lot else a lot of pregnant women have to deal with.  I feel more at home in my body and more confident when pregnant than any other time.  I feel like I just glow from within.

That being said...

Aside from feeling confident with my body, Willow's pregnancy was hard.  HARD.  The intense morning sickness lasted until around week 20 and it was worse because I just wasn't expecting it.  I was on multiple medications for the last 2 trimesters, had to deal with repercussions from those, I had kidney stones and infections.  For the first time in a pregnancy, I had a hemiplegic migraine (actually 2) and I couldn't take medication for them.  For around six weeks in the beginning of my 3rd trimester, I felt such a deep depression followed by anxiety (which wasn't altogether new...that sort of happened to a lesser degree with Ash's pregnancy and I had a long bout with post partum depression after Zoe was born).

The week we found out I was pregnant, we also signed on our new house.  Timing... The day after we moved most of our boxes and stuff in, the morning sickness hit.  I just didn't know it could be so bad.  It all seemed like terrible timing.  Isaac had to do IT ALL after we had things moved in.  He worked day and night on the house and day and night at work (he works swings).  I felt guilty, the kids were in a new place, it was just messy.

So, all that to say I was really looking forward to labor and delivery.  I was obsessed with collecting preemie clothes because with my other two I was so unprepared.  (This time she was too long to fit in most of the things I had, which is a great problem to have)  I had my bags packed at 33 weeks and in the car because I had never made it far enough in a pregnancy to have bags packed and ready.  I joked that because my other labors were so fast that this one would probably take forever since the pregnancy was so different. I was wrong.  Sort of...

So, a little bit about my other two births.  In short, I knew nothing about what I wanted with Zoe, it was an induction that I didn't question at 35 weeks (I was maybe in early labor anyway but the induction was due to "low fluid"), I got the epidural at 3cm and at 7cm I could feel a lot from my belly button down.  The doctor wasn't there yet and they expected me to push for awhile, but her head was just there.  They made me stop pushing.  Yep.  MADE ME STOP PUSHING!  Literally pushed my legs together and turned me on my side.  She was 5 weeks early and we were banking her cord blood, so I guess they wanted the doctor there.  Anyway, doc got there, I pushed once and she came out.

With Asher, I knew what I wanted.  I had a different set of doctors.  When labor started at 36 weeks, I labored all night at home and went to the hospital where I was 4cm and dilated a cm an hour until Asher just came out.  The doctor pushed my leg back to push and he just came out.   It.  Was.  Awesome.

With Willow, I went in at 34 weeks with contractions that rivaled Asher's at 8cm.  One to two minutes apart, very intense and they were lasting about a minute.  They showed up on the monitor as being huge and I was scared.  I didn't want her here that early, but the pain was so bad I sort of just forgot.  They checked me and I was 1cm dilated.  ONE.  So, I figured ok, in an hour or so I'll probably be 4 and I'll know it's real.

One hour later, contractions worse, 1cm.  This taught me a lot.  "False labor" isn't just NOT knowing what a contraction is.  It's your body preparing for labor and IT. CAN. HURT.  So, they gently sent me home and the contractions stopped around midnight.  From there on out, I would have moments like that that lasted around four hours.  I couldn't walk or talk, I just had to contract and breathe and hypno birth and whatever else got me through.  I'd say that happened 1-2 times per week, so I know it could have been worse but I feel like I labored for 5 weeks y'all!  Also, after the "false labor" the next day I lost my mucus plug.  FIVE WEEKS before I gave birth.  So there's another lesson for you.  It doesn't necessarily mean labor is coming anytime between losing that and two weeks.  From 34 weeks until I gave birth, sore doesn't even do justice what I felt.  Her head was so low, everything seemed ready except...Willow wasn't.

You cannot plan labor.  I knew that, but living it was hard.  Harder than I imagined.  

***

Ok, so Willow's birth.  I was 39 weeks and 2 days.  FAST AND FURIOUS! Fast was the awesome part, right?  Furious...not so much at the time.

At 8:00am after Isaac had taken the kids to school, I sneezed four times while watching The Today Show and felt the first contraction.  I called him to see where he was because it felt more like a cramp so I wasn't sure.  He came inside immediately (he was cleaning out the car) and by that time I was halfway up the steps to change clothes, I was clinging to the banister. We called my mom to fill her in and she was going to wait to hear from us. From that moment, it literally didn't stop hurting until she was out.  Not just contraction pain, though. There was no build up, climax and settling down.  It was out of control from the first second and I just wish I would have planned for that. Well, not that anyone could have planned for that...I just wish I would have known labor could be like that. That's why I'm telling you, not to scare you but to let you know that labor can look different for every birth. I thought I had planned for every type of birth and outcome, but I didn't even know...

I had a birth play list ready to play, I was looking forward to breathing through contractions.  But what I got was begging Isaac to run red lights and screaming "EXCUSE ME please!!!!!" to the elderly couple walking in front of our wheelchair.  Isaac threw the keys at a valet guy, said "Hutchinson!" and off we went to the elevator.

I kept trying to remember all that I knew, and at first I just wasn't capable of dealing with what was going on.  And so in that way, that was how I was dealing with it.  Moaning and unable to follow commands.  The nurses were amazing and let me just do things as I could.  I couldn't take off my clothes and when they checked me I heard "she's 9 1/2...no wait...she's complete forget the gown!"  I knew though.  When she checked me and I didn't feel anything, oh did I know!  All you pregnant/former pregnant women out there know that when your cervix is checked, YOU KNOW IT.  So, I guess she was just right there.

They took my bed to the labor room from triage and it took me a long time to move from one bed to the next and the nurses just waited on me.  They didn't rush me.

There was never a time I could breathe and gather my thoughts.  Isaac called mom and said "they're prepping her" and my  mom asked, "for what????"  Isaac said, "she'll start pushing soon."  So, at that point mom and Amanda (Isaac's sister/birth photographer/always in my labor room) RUSHED to the hospital (they were very close by) and barely made it for Willow's arrival.  I remember hearing Amanda's tripod or something going up.  Then they all started chatting and laughing about how crazy it was I was going so fast and I screamed "EVERYONE WHO JUST WALKED IN, SHUT UP!"  And they did because I needed to work. (We can laugh about that now because they knew what was up.)

My body was shaking so hard that my hand was hitting the bed hard and that helped in a strange way. It was rhythmic. The next thing that happened was so weird to me.  I didn't feel pressure or the need to push, but my body just started pushing.  It was the only part of the experience that I felt in control of, just allowing my body to do its thing.  I helped it by pushing too hehe. That was hard though. It would have been nice to feel a need to push.

They tried to get me to pull my legs back, but I just couldn't push like that, so I pushed with my feet sprawled over the stirrups and all of the nurses (I swear it felt like I had my own little gang of nurses, I don't know how many were in there but they were all awesome and so supportive) cheered me on. By this point, I was having more typical contractions.  It still hurt in between but there was more of a rise and fall and at least 5-10 seconds between with a smidge less than excruciating pain where I could pull myself together, focus and remind myself what needed to be done.

I was saying very typical things like "I can't do this" and "help me" and they'd reply with "you ARE doing it, keep going!"  Toward the end of pushing, a nurse said, "ok stop and breathe and do it again" and I just couldn't.  Stop, that is. I could not have made my body stop pushing. It was on some sort of giving birth auto-pilot which was great! I just pushed and pushed and pushed.   I don't know how many pushes it took, it all ran together.  It was more than my other two births combined, which isn't all that much.  Maybe like 3-5 contractions worth?  Amanda guesses 10 minutes.  Then...I felt her crown.

Yes, the ring of fire was upon me.  

For a split second, I pictured this:

It was intense to say the least, but pushing helped.  I heard someone say "look at that dark hair" and as much as I was gloriously lost in birth, it was this little spark of a reminder that I was doing it and it was almost over.  As soon as her head was out, I said the most cliche birth saying EVER:

GET. HER.  OUT.  OF MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

And I mean, I screamed it you guys.  More than once.  And it felt good.  I've never been a screamer during labor, but I did just then and it got me through.   What felt like 10 minutes later but was maybe under a minute, she was out.  They pulled up my gown and placed her on my stomach for quite some time before they even wiped her off.  She was crying, I was wide eyed and I said,

"I know, I'm freaked out, too."  

And it was over. I heard her cry and realized that I had forgotten that I was getting a baby at the end of this.  I was shocked!

One hour and nine minutes after my first contraction at home, 32 minutes after we got to the hospital, Willow Gracen entered the world weighing 7 lbs 1oz (my biggest baby) and 20.5 inches long (longest, too).  

The other two kids, I didn't feel that magical bond with right away.  It came a little later, but no one told me that I might not have the weepy "THIS IS MY CHILD" hold her up like Lion King moment.  Sometimes you don't and that's normal.  But, I had it with Willow.  She was in my heart from that first contact and the bond was sealed.  It was amazing because the whole pregnancy I doubted my ability to parent three kids.  I was worried I would end up letting one of them down or something, but bonding with her right away, I just knew I could do it.  God knew I needed that bond and he saved it for me.

She latched on to nurse immediately and she hasn't stopped nursing since.

I can't say enough about the nurses in labor and post partum.  Not once did they leave my room without asking if I needed anything and following it up with "are you sure?"  They never got tired of me asking for more ice haha.  I have such respect for doulas and think they aren't used enough!  I feel like each of the nurses held a little piece of my would-be doula that I never hired.  She just came in a different form.

So, I had a one hour labor and delivery.  Didn't see that coming.  We saw our pediatrician in the hallway as they were wheeling me to my room and he said "well, I heard that was easy."  I flipped him off.   (Ha!  Love you Dr. Evans!)

The recovery was amazing.  Physically and emotionally.

Since the birth, we've heard a lot of jokes about me being Superwoman and I just want to say here that we all are.  No matter how you get your child:  vaginally, cesarean, medicated, at home, underwater, no interventions at all, from a bio mom, from a different country... WE ARE SUPERWOMEN.  And our support team (whoever they are, whatever that looks like for you) is the reason we can be.  

*There is no other man ON EARTH who can fan a laboring woman like MY MAN!  Nor could any one support me in the way I NEEDED to get through this and not make me think I'm crazy for wanting to go natural.  I didn't even tell people that was my plan because I just didn't want to hear anything negative surrounding it.  (I didn't tell them with Asher either)

*There are no two amazing kids like Zoe and Asher who just let me be sick while they ate pop tarts until I could get up and feed them better.

*There is no other mom in the world who could fight for what I needed in these births when I couldn't ask, like my mom.

*There is no other birth photographer EVER who could capture it all and not only NOT throw up, but celebrate it because these babies were hers too, like Aunt Mandy.

*There is no other fellow pregnant mama who could hear my worries and pray for me always and commiserate and encourage like Jennifer Wayne.  (our due dates were 2 weeks apart, but our babies came 5 days apart)

*There is no other nurse alive who could have helped me through this birth like Cindy Jefferson, my calm place.  Later when I was laughing about being so out of control she said, "you may have felt out of control but you weren't...you were doing what needed to be done."  Sigh

*There is no other doctor's office I would ever choose over Drs. Lee and Assaley.  And the staff?  AMAZING!  Both docs listened to what I had to say at every appointment, never rushed me out and even laughed with me.  The nurses and staff in the office were all so sweet and never made me feel silly for calling and never rushed me off of the phone.

*There is no other friend/birth advocate/childbirth educator/La Leche League leader who could answer all of my questions and tell me I could do this years before I did, like Sarah DeGroff.  I'm so blessed to know her as a friend first and a non-judgmental source for information second.  Check out her page, Well Rounded Birth Prep

*There is no other church community that could have come together and surrounded me with all I needed like the one I have.

And my goodness so many more people who kept me laughing during the pregnancy, helped when I was too sick to do anything and prayed for our sanity and health.  Our Care Group that meets twice a month was with me through it all and somehow woman after woman in that group kept getting pregnant, too!  Haha, it was in the amazing food brought every week, I think!

However you do it, whoever is with you, YOU ARE AMAZING!  Own your birth story and be proud of it.

Here are a few pictures that I haven't posted yet.  Each tells a story for me

During labor.  Isaac was fanning so fast you can't even see the laminated paper haha

After the belly skin to skin, we moved her up and this was that moment that I really looked at her

This was our first calm look at her after the skin to skin and initial nursing session (that hasn't really stopped yet...she came out just knowing what was up)

This was "after" He wanted to give me a high-five, but it was so, so weak you guys

Super nurse, Cindy!!!

Dr. Lee, who took my screams in stride.

He seems happy.  Willow...not so much

All of her fun stats :)