I don't know why, but I still get surprised when God uses my selfish motivations and changes my heart.
It started over the weekend when I was writing about perspective and was looking for links to add to the post. While I was on Compassion's website I read about the Compassion bloggers trip to Nicaragua. A few days later I got an e-mail from Compassion (several months ago I signed up to be a Compassion blogger, but sadly have never written anything using the prompts they send out each month) saying they were having a contest related to the trip and that there were ways to get up to 22 entries a day.
The prize pack includes 9 books including some that have been sitting un-purchased on my Amazon wish list: One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Food from My Frontier by Ree Drummond and Plan B by Pete Wilson.
Confession: Compassion Week on Heidi's @ Home has been motivated by the fact that I would get 10 entries for each blog post about the trip to Nicaragua where I linked the Compassion bloggers. (I could only enter this portion of the contest once a day)
I figured it was a win/win because I got to write about child sponsorship, which is near and dear to my heart, while also doing everything possible to win books. I love to write and I love to read. Doing a writing assignment so I'd have more books to read? Yes, please!
The contest ended Thursday afternoon.
By the time I wrote the final post in my "Compassion Week" series on Thursday morning I had spent hours on the Compassion website, on the Compassion bloggers website, on twitter following the bloggers, reading their posts on Facebook, going to their individual sites, etc. My blog wasn't the only thing that was consumed by Compassion International this week--it felt like my entire life was.
On the way to getting the maximum 88 entries (max of 22 entries over 4 days) a funny thing happened . . . I started caring less about winning the contest and more about finding a sponsor for as many children as possible. 9.5 years after my own sponsorship journey began (when my husband and I got married and I "inherited" his Compassion children) I thought my heart had already been changed by sponsorship. I mean, we made our Compassion children a priority in our budget, ahead of things like eating out, going on "date nights" or getting a babysitter to preserve my sanity while I got out of the house for a few hours during the day. I take my kids to doctor's appointments rather than pay a baby-sitter so we can sponsor our kids. I was wrong. There's still plenty of room for God to work. As I've been reading the stories coming out of Nicaragua this week my heart started changing even more.
For the first time I was in the home of a child being sponsored. For the first time I caught a glimpse into the life of a mom who had been forced to choose between her child receiving an education or feeding her family and I met a dad who has defied the cultural norm and is sticking around to raise his children.
There's already more month than food in our grocery budget and yet I'm left wondering today . . . where can I find another $38/mo to bring hope to another child?
As I've read these stories and seen these pictures this week I've been changed and I never left suburbia. I've served on foreign mission trips and seen those who don't have much materially, but this virtual trip has changed me more than those ones I've been to in the barrios of Chile (twice) and having built houses for people whose homes had been made up only of pallets.
The contest is over, and for the first time this week I'm not submitting my blog link to Compassion to be eligible for to win 9 books, but I'm ok with that because I know God has started a movement in my heart that (I believe) will continue to go forward.
Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Concluding "Compassion Week"
This week I've been sharing stories from the Compassion bloggers in Nicaragua as they've been traveling to different centers and visiting the homes of their sponsored children.
As someone living in my suburban home with the comforts of food in my fridge, a roof over my head, a comfortable mattress and cool air provided by my air conditioning it's hard for me to imagine what "extreme poverty" looks like. ("Extreme poverty" as defined by the UN is living on less than $1 USD a day) Last night Kelly at Faithful Provisions wrote a beautiful story from the perspective of Daisy, the mom of a sponsored child.
In recent months I've been struggling with fitting in with my culture and truly living like Jesus. While I know (in my head) it's not about my home being "updated" (which it's not), having new furniture (we're 37 & nearly 47 and most of our furniture is still second and third hand from our parents and friends) I'd be dishonest if I were saying I didn't want those things. Then I read stories like Bending For Treasure In The Trash by Shaun Groves and I'm reminded what's truly important in this world. I love how Traci describes the role of a Compassion sponsor in the Body of Christ.
By going on this virtual trip to Nicaragua and immersing myself in the work of Compassion for the past few days I have been changed. Being fully honest, there have been times I've looked at our monthly charitable giving and thought "If we didn't give to (fill in the organization) each month we'd have room in our budget for (my want)." God has been shifting my heart and aligning it more with His. Instead of looking at my "wants" right now I'm finding myself looking at our budget and finding where else we can cut/"find" money to sponsor another child.
The Compassion bloggers are going to be in Nicaragua for a few more days and are going to continue to post so please continue to follow their stories and be introduced to the amazing lives being changed by sponsorship.
Up until recently our Compassion children have been chosen for us. As I've mentioned before, my husband started sponsoring children through Compassion before we met and his first 2 children were chosen for him. Over the years we've had 3 girls from the Dominican Republic and one boy from Peru who wasn't even in (our equivalent) of Kindergarten when my husband started sponsoring him, and is now 17 and getting ready to graduate! Though we've sponsored 4 children over the years, we've never sponsored more than 2 at a time. Recently I was thinking of friends (who have 5 kids) and who have a Compassion child for each of the children living in their own home so their kids each have a friend they get to write to. Compressing the story, a few months I went to Compassion's website and searched for a 4 child between 4-5 with no other search parameters set. After seeing all the children in that age range I entered our daughter's birthdate in the search box and there was an adorable little boy in Peru staring at me. I told my husband what I'd done and asked, "Do you think we can make this work?". He agreed with me and we added Alexis to our family. A few weeks later I did the same thing, this time looking up a child with the same birthdate as our 6 year old and we were introduced to Sharon in Kenya. We have friends who live overseas (in a country where Compassion works) and they've told us that if we end up sponsoring a child near them (there are several centers in their area) that they would go visit the child on our behalf, which would be wonderful so we've considered that as well. Who knows . . . maybe we'll add a 5th child in their region before much longer :)
If your heart has been stirred by my posts, and the stories of the Compassion bloggers, please consider the $38/mo it would take to provide food, education and medical care for a child living in poverty. You can start your journey to sponsorship by clicking the banner to the left or the widget below.
In recent months I've been struggling with fitting in with my culture and truly living like Jesus. While I know (in my head) it's not about my home being "updated" (which it's not), having new furniture (we're 37 & nearly 47 and most of our furniture is still second and third hand from our parents and friends) I'd be dishonest if I were saying I didn't want those things. Then I read stories like Bending For Treasure In The Trash by Shaun Groves and I'm reminded what's truly important in this world. I love how Traci describes the role of a Compassion sponsor in the Body of Christ.
By going on this virtual trip to Nicaragua and immersing myself in the work of Compassion for the past few days I have been changed. Being fully honest, there have been times I've looked at our monthly charitable giving and thought "If we didn't give to (fill in the organization) each month we'd have room in our budget for (my want)." God has been shifting my heart and aligning it more with His. Instead of looking at my "wants" right now I'm finding myself looking at our budget and finding where else we can cut/"find" money to sponsor another child.
The Compassion bloggers are going to be in Nicaragua for a few more days and are going to continue to post so please continue to follow their stories and be introduced to the amazing lives being changed by sponsorship.
Up until recently our Compassion children have been chosen for us. As I've mentioned before, my husband started sponsoring children through Compassion before we met and his first 2 children were chosen for him. Over the years we've had 3 girls from the Dominican Republic and one boy from Peru who wasn't even in (our equivalent) of Kindergarten when my husband started sponsoring him, and is now 17 and getting ready to graduate! Though we've sponsored 4 children over the years, we've never sponsored more than 2 at a time. Recently I was thinking of friends (who have 5 kids) and who have a Compassion child for each of the children living in their own home so their kids each have a friend they get to write to. Compressing the story, a few months I went to Compassion's website and searched for a 4 child between 4-5 with no other search parameters set. After seeing all the children in that age range I entered our daughter's birthdate in the search box and there was an adorable little boy in Peru staring at me. I told my husband what I'd done and asked, "Do you think we can make this work?". He agreed with me and we added Alexis to our family. A few weeks later I did the same thing, this time looking up a child with the same birthdate as our 6 year old and we were introduced to Sharon in Kenya. We have friends who live overseas (in a country where Compassion works) and they've told us that if we end up sponsoring a child near them (there are several centers in their area) that they would go visit the child on our behalf, which would be wonderful so we've considered that as well. Who knows . . . maybe we'll add a 5th child in their region before much longer :)
If your heart has been stirred by my posts, and the stories of the Compassion bloggers, please consider the $38/mo it would take to provide food, education and medical care for a child living in poverty. You can start your journey to sponsorship by clicking the banner to the left or the widget below.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Compassion Week Continued . . . . Meeting A Sponsored Child
Yesterday was the first full day for the Compassion Bloggers and I was anxiously awaiting their first posts last night. During the day Kelly from Faithful Provisions tweeted a picture of her with Marcos. I rejoiced with her as she got to meet him and not-so-patiently waited for her to have a few moments to write about her day.
I was rewarded last evening when Kelly shared Marcos' story and beautiful pictures.
As I read through the description of Marcos' house I couldn't help but think of our own Marco, Alexis who live in Peru. I know they live in solid construction homes, but I was wondering what their sleeping conditions are like. We're just getting to know Naidelin in the Domincan Republic so I don't know what her living conditions are like. I know that Sharon must fetch water and most likely lives in a hut. All are a far (and humbling) cry from my own living situation as I sit here in my suburban Arizona home listening to the sound of the air conditioner that is keeping me cool in the midst of a hot Phoenix summer.
I was rewarded last evening when Kelly shared Marcos' story and beautiful pictures.
As I read through the description of Marcos' house I couldn't help but think of our own Marco, Alexis who live in Peru. I know they live in solid construction homes, but I was wondering what their sleeping conditions are like. We're just getting to know Naidelin in the Domincan Republic so I don't know what her living conditions are like. I know that Sharon must fetch water and most likely lives in a hut. All are a far (and humbling) cry from my own living situation as I sit here in my suburban Arizona home listening to the sound of the air conditioner that is keeping me cool in the midst of a hot Phoenix summer.
This morning, the first moment I could, I went to my computer and read through the other posts from the Compassion Bloggers.
My heart was caught in my throat this morning as I saw Christy's first day in Nicaragua detailed in words and pictures that rattled my world. I can see why she felt like she lived an entire year of her life in one year. After seeing the images Christy and Bri shared from the garbage dump they visited to the joy of meeting Wilbert and his family I felt like I was on the roller coaster of emotions, too.
Following the Compassion Bloggers for the past few days has reinforced my passion for sponsorship as well as given birth to my desire to go visit one of our kids.
If you're reading my blog I challenge you to follow these stories and others as they unfold this week and see what God does in your heart through these stories and the others that are going to be unfolding over the next few days.
My heart was caught in my throat this morning as I saw Christy's first day in Nicaragua detailed in words and pictures that rattled my world. I can see why she felt like she lived an entire year of her life in one year. After seeing the images Christy and Bri shared from the garbage dump they visited to the joy of meeting Wilbert and his family I felt like I was on the roller coaster of emotions, too.
Following the Compassion Bloggers for the past few days has reinforced my passion for sponsorship as well as given birth to my desire to go visit one of our kids.
If you're reading my blog I challenge you to follow these stories and others as they unfold this week and see what God does in your heart through these stories and the others that are going to be unfolding over the next few days.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Compassion Week at Heidi's @ Home
Even if you just started reading my blog this week you know my family and I are huge supporters of Compassion International since I have written several posts about our experience, the way my life is being changed and how I'm going on a going on a (virtual) trip this week with the Compassion bloggers.
Because of this week's trip to Nicaragua I'm considering this "Compassion Week" here at Heidi's @ Home :) I'll resume my "regular" posts next week, but figure this is a good time to bring attention to one of my favorite groups.
I'm anxiously awaiting updates from the team and am extremely jealous of Kelly from Faithful Provisions who gets to meet her sponsored child, Marcos today! Kelly tweeted a picture this morning as she was getting ready to meet him and all I could think of is how I'd love to visit Marcos (our oldest Compassion child, who is getting ready to graduate) in Peru, Naidelin in the Dominican Republic, Sharon in Kenya or Alexis in Peru. Alexis and Marco only live about 100 miles away from each other.
While I can't visit our kids this week I'm excited to follow the activities of the Compassion bloggers on Twitter.
Until the team starts posting their updates I'm enjoying getting to know the team by reading their blogs, including Giving the internet malaria by Shaun Groves who is helping to lead this trip.
Will you join me in following this team as they get to love on some beautiful children and witness first hand the amazing work Compassion is doing in Nicaragua?
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Perspective and an Impromptu Object Lesson
This week we received our first letter from our newest Compassion Child, a little girl from Kenya who was born the same day as our son. This morning my husband was reading the newest Compassion Magazine, which we received yesterday and I asked him, "Did you read Sharon's letter? Did you see one of her chores is fetching water?" Both of our kids were playing in the kitchen while we talked so when my 6 year old heard us he asked what "fetching water" meant.
Since we were standing in the kitchen I turned on our faucet and told the kids how lucky we are to have running water. I explained about how many people around the world aren't lucky enough to have water in their house and they have to go get it. I explained that some people get their water from a well and others have to go get theirs from a body of water that they share with animals who drink and go to the bathroom there. I asked the kids how they'd like to drink water that came from where animals pooped. Needless to say there was a chorus of "EEEWWWWW".
I asked my son, "Sharon is your age. Do you think you could carry water back to our house without spilling it?" In typical 6 year old bravado he said, "Of course! That's easy!". Immediately an idea started forming in my head and within minutes we had an impromptu object lesson this morning.
My 4 year old went first with the small bucket:
Next up was my 6 year old:
After both kids successfully carried the small bucket past 4 houses in our suburban neighborhood I had them attempt the 2.5 gallon bucket:
As you can see, my daughter couldn't even lift the 2.5 gallon bucket and by the time my son walked to our neighbor's house that we'd designated as our end point his bucket was basically empty.
The water ended up primarily on him, which he didn't mind since we're in the midst of a Phoenix summer and it was already about 95 when we were doing this at 11am.
After watching what happened when my son picked up the 2.5 gallon bucket I was quite interested to see what would happen once the kids attempted the next challenge:
I don't know if the kids fully got the object lesson I was trying to teach because they were more into how fun it was to get wet on this hot morning, but hopefully it'll stick.
Once we got in the house I was getting a little pushback when I asked them to mop the floor and unload the dishwasher. We talked about how Sharon would probably LOVE a machine that did the dishes for her and I told them that where she lives they have dirt floors so she would think our tile floors were extremely fancy.
Our activities this morning were also a good dose of perspective for this mom. For the past few weeks I've been seeing pictures on Facebook of vacations my friends are taking and I've been getting discouraged that we haven't been able to fit anything like that into our budget. (Ironically when my kids dressed themselves this morning they both put on shirts given to them by a family member who went to Disney World last year and one of the things I've been really struggling with is not being able to afford to take our kids to Disneyland, despite it only being 6 hours away so I had that "god" in my face the whole time the kids were doing this).
Mom needed this dose of perspective at least as much as the kids.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Thankful
Back in December I wrote about how thankful I am for my Moms in Prayer group. My group meets at 9am on Monday. At first I found the time inconvenient because first thing Monday morning my priority was getting the house "re-set" from the weekend and getting everything done I didn't get to on Saturday or Sunday. I was jealous of my friends at other schools that have their meetings later in the week, because the first half of my week tends to be busier than the second half.
In the months since I've been meeting with these ladies I've become increasingly thankful for the time. Sure, 9am on Monday isn't the most convenient, but I've come to love knowing that first thing Monday morning our school, our kids' teachers and our kids are being lifted up. I know Monday mornings are hectic for everyone and I can't think of a better time to pray for teachers as they begin a long week of teaching our kids.
As we were praying today I was just overwhelmed with gratitude, not just that our group exists, but that we live in a country where we can openly meet as Christians. I am well aware that all over the world Christians are being tortured, arrested and murdered for their beliefs. I know Christians have to gather in underground communities to pray, worship and study God's word.
I'm thankful that I'm able to gather with other believers on the weekends to worship God corporately without concern for my safety, the safety of my family, or of my husband losing his job. I'm thankful the ladies in my Moms in Prayer group and I are able to gather without the same concerns.
I'm thankful that if I want to acquire a copy of the Bible it is easy to do so. I can download a free app of the Bible. I can order one online. I can walk in to almost any store that sells books. I can even send a Bible to someone in prison. Churches and ministries give Bibles away to those who want one, but don't have one. It is not an exaggeration to say that almost anyone in America who wants access to God's word can have it. I am thankful for this.
Many of my brothers and sisters in Christ aren't nearly as fortunate. Single pages of God's word are memorized, passed down, treasured and shared. Those who have studied the Bible are asked to share their wisdom and God's truth is shared via story and word of mouth.
On this Monday morning my heart is full and I'm thankful . . .
In the months since I've been meeting with these ladies I've become increasingly thankful for the time. Sure, 9am on Monday isn't the most convenient, but I've come to love knowing that first thing Monday morning our school, our kids' teachers and our kids are being lifted up. I know Monday mornings are hectic for everyone and I can't think of a better time to pray for teachers as they begin a long week of teaching our kids.
As we were praying today I was just overwhelmed with gratitude, not just that our group exists, but that we live in a country where we can openly meet as Christians. I am well aware that all over the world Christians are being tortured, arrested and murdered for their beliefs. I know Christians have to gather in underground communities to pray, worship and study God's word.
I'm thankful that I'm able to gather with other believers on the weekends to worship God corporately without concern for my safety, the safety of my family, or of my husband losing his job. I'm thankful the ladies in my Moms in Prayer group and I are able to gather without the same concerns.
I'm thankful that if I want to acquire a copy of the Bible it is easy to do so. I can download a free app of the Bible. I can order one online. I can walk in to almost any store that sells books. I can even send a Bible to someone in prison. Churches and ministries give Bibles away to those who want one, but don't have one. It is not an exaggeration to say that almost anyone in America who wants access to God's word can have it. I am thankful for this.
Many of my brothers and sisters in Christ aren't nearly as fortunate. Single pages of God's word are memorized, passed down, treasured and shared. Those who have studied the Bible are asked to share their wisdom and God's truth is shared via story and word of mouth.
On this Monday morning my heart is full and I'm thankful . . .
Monday, January 28, 2013
41 wks, 1 day and ALIVE!
My first pregnancy was relatively uneventful and my husband and I were excited new parents. As my due date got closer we found out my OB was scheduled to go on vacation starting when I was about 40.5 weeks. While my OB was sure I'd have the baby before he left town my husband and I agreed that there were legitimate reasons for me to be induced, but my OB's vacation was not one of them.
I was due on a Saturday. The Tuesday after my due date my husband and I went to the OB and my Dr. told me that since I was past my due date he wanted me to go to the hospital every 5 days, starting the next day for a non-stress test (NST) to make sure our son was healthy and thriving in my womb. At that point I still wasn't dilated or effaced. The Dr. considered stripping my membranes, but since I was "so closed" he said it probably wouldn't work. My OB also wanted me to come back Thursday morning, his last day in the office before his vacation. Wednesday my husband and I went to the hospital and waited while I was monitored for an hour. My son was doing wonderfully and I wasn't having any contractions so I went home while my husband went back to work.
Thursday morning my husband and I arrived at the OB's office for our 7:30 appt (the first one of the day). After over an hour of waiting the receptionist informed us that he was still at the hospital attending to a birth and asked if we could come back in the afternoon. My husband went to work for a few hours and I went home. At 2:30 Thursday afternoon we were back in the OB's office. I still wasn't dilated or effaced, but my OB said "If you'd been here this morning I probably would've induced you." What I was thinking (but didn't say) was, "Um . . . we WERE here this morning. You weren't AND I don't want to be induced just because you're going on vacation". Instead of saying anything I just thanked God for the way it worked out since I didn't want to be induced for that reason.
Friday night I started feeling a bit uncomfortable. I wasn't having contractions, but I knew something was going on (I was 40 weeks, 6 days. In Phoenix. In the summer. I was LOOKING for signs labor was imminent!). Basically I felt like I was having menstrual cramps---the pressure was dull and constant--not sharp or coming and going so I knew they weren't contractions.
Saturday morning I told my husband, "Um . . . if you want to go in to work and get things done before you leave for the next two weeks today would be a REALLY good day to go do that." My husband almost NEVER works Saturdays so he knew it had to be serious for me to suggest that. When he asked "Why?" (knowing the answer) I told him, "I've been up all night feeling like I have cramps". Due to some things going on at work that day my husband would've ended up having to go in, even if I hadn't already suggested it. (BTW--he told me he got major bonus points at work by telling them he was working while I was in the earliest stages of labor). Because I suspected that the show was about to go on I sat on the couch and did NOTHING that day. I didn't want to wear myself out and be tired if I was going to be in labor, soon.
By the time my husband came home from work, at about 6, I was tired of sitting around the house all day and suggested we go out to dinner. Before I got dressed for dinner I asked my husband to take some final "belly shots" since I knew they would probably be the last pictures of me pregnant. Here is one of those. Yeah, I should've kept the shirt COVERING the belly!
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| At 41 weeks pregnant wearing one of my husband's shirts while realizing I was in the early stages of labor. |
We went to a restaurant around the corner from our house and when the hostess/server saw us she said "Hi! How are you two (glancing at my belly) oh . . . THREE of you doing tonight". My husband told her (with a straight face) "I'm fine. She's in pre-labor" I don't think I've ever seen any one's eyes be that big :). I had been consistently having contractions since the first one when I was putting on my flip flops, but hadn't said anything to my husband. I had looked at my watch when each one started and noticed that they were about 5 minutes apart. Since my OB told me to wait to go to the hospital until they were consistently 5 minutes apart for an hour I hadn't felt a huge sense of "this is it" urgency at that point. Finally, at 7:30 we had our food and were eating when I told my husband, "We don't need to leave now, but after we're done eating it might be a good idea to go home and grab our bags before heading to the hospital." My husband asked, "Why?" and I said, "Because I've been having contractions every 5 minutes for the past 30 minutes". After we were full we asked for to-go boxes and my husband told our server (the same woman who had seated us) and told her "We're heading to the hospital now . . . " I have never received my to-go box OR my check as fast in my life :)
We got to the hospital about 8:30 or 9pm. It was around midnight when they finally decided to admit me and give me my epidural. Because it was so late on a Saturday night I was assigned to the Dr. on call. My OB had already given me the name of another Dr. who was covering for him while he was gone, but since that Dr. was off for the weekend there was a 3rd OB taking both of the other doctors' patients. Though I was told her name I couldn't remember it. My husband and I jokingly called her the "3rd string"
At this point the time gets a little fuzzy, but here's what I remember:
I was told to lay on my left for 30 minutes and then lay on my right for 30 minutes through out labor. At one point, in the middle of the night, the overnight nurse had me lay on my left. Immediately she started getting VERY busy and put an oxygen mask on my face as she started making phone calls. Because I couldn't see the monitors I didn't know what was going on. Though he is an engineer by trade my husband is a certified EMT and his mom and sister are both nurses so my husband is pretty well versed in medical situations. Neither my husband or the nurse were talking to me (the nurse was busy with her phone calls, watching the monitors and putting the mask on me). After a few minutes when it seemed a bit calmer I asked the nurse what happened and she told me my son's heart rate dropped into the 50's, but it had stabilized as long as I stayed on my right. The oxygen mask I was wearing was to make sure my son had enough O2 while I was in labor. During the busy few minutes my husband could see the monitors and knew what was going on, but I was blissfully ignorant. Both he and the nurse were trying to keep me ignorant until I asked what was happening.
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| After the first scare |
As long as I kept the oxygen mask on and stayed on my right side my son was fine. We have pictures of the monitors showing us that his heart rate was 117 after the scare. Through all of this the nurses were in touch with the Dr. on call.
Throughout the night I wouldn't fully dilate, despite having come in at a 3 and being 41 weeks so I was given pitocin. (At some point a Dr. was delivering next door and the night nurse asked her if she would come break my water). Even after being given the maximum dosage of pitocin I was "stuck" at a 9.5 for quite a while. I believe it was hours. I know the nurse was trying to get me to fully dilate, but she couldn't. At this point the nurse told me she was off for the next few days, but she wouldn't be surprised if I was still there on Tuesday when she came back to work because I'd had a c-section. That was NOT what I wanted. I FINALLY dilated about the time the shift changed.
Once I met the new nurse my son's heart rate was stabilized, I was fully dilated, BUT he hadn't dropped far enough for me to be able to deliver him. Throughout my labor my parents were with us in my room, but my mom had made it clear that she thought my husband and I should be alone (with the medical staff) as we welcomed our first child. My dad left the room whenever the nurses came in, but my mom stayed in my room and behind the curtain to give me some privacy. At one point the morning nurse thought maybe if I started pushing I would drop. She had my mom and my husband help. I could tell my mom was a bit uncomfortable, but she obeyed the nurses command to help me. That didn't do the trick. The nurse told me "You're probably going to have a c-section" and left the room. I cried and silently prayed, "Lord, I don't want a c-section". Less than 10 minutes later the nurse came in and my son had dropped.
At this point it was about 8:30 and the nurse told me, "The Dr. will be here at 9. Don't push, even if you feel the urge". A few minutes later I told her I needed to push and she said, "Don't". Um . . . ok . . . At 9 the nurse had me start to push. My husband, the nurse and I were the only ones in the room. I remember thinking, "Um . . . shouldn't there be a few more people in here?" I pushed a few more times. The nurse made a phone call and stepped outside. This part is VERY fuzzy (after all, I'd been up for more than 24 hours already). My husband said the nurse and Dr. were having a "discussion" on the phone. All I know is I was told the Dr. wouldn't be there until 10 and not to push. Um . . . Ok . . .
At 10am the Dr. came in. Looking back I remember her having been in a few other times during the night, introducing herself and checking on me, but she didn't really play into the story until this point. When the Dr. came several other nurses came by with her and they brought several trays of equipment with them. It felt like the whole maternity ward had stepped into my room. Since this was my first I didn't think too much of it.
The Dr. had me push a few times. After a few pushes the Dr. said in a very no-nonsense manner, "Your baby is in distress. He needs to come out NOW. We're doing an episiotomy and using the vacuum. He's coming out NOW". Um . . . Ok.
I pushed a few more times while the Dr. used the vacuum to deliver my son. My husband jokes I had "Nike" imprinted on my bottom because of how hard she was having to pull while I pushed (as in she had her foot on my bottom. Obviously, she didn't). I do know, from my husband's description that the ENTIRE vacuum was used. I also know my son never dropped below a 0 station.
At 10:07 our son entered the world. I don't know how long it was until my son took his first breath, but I know it was long enough for me to have the conscious thought, "Come on, Baby. Breathe." before we heard a faint cry. The cord had been wrapped around his neck 2x. Every time I pushed his heart rate dropped and he was nearly strangled by it. His initial APGAR was 6 and he was rushed over to the nurses who gave him oxygen. He recovered quickly and his 5 minute APGAR was a 9. Phew.
Honestly, as I look back I'm amazed at how well everything turned out. I know several friends who have had emergency c-sections for "failure to progress" for less reasons than I did with my son. a) I wouldn't dilate b) He wouldn't drop c) The cord was wrapped around his neck causing his heart rate to drop. My husband's grandmother lost two sons in childbirth because they were strangled by their cord. I'm very aware at how differently things could've gone for all of us that night.
I have since met women who are labor and delivery nurses at the hospital where I delivered. Their consensus (confirmed after I had a "boring" delivery at the same hospital) was that the Dr. was prepared to do an emergency c-section in my room, without taking the time to wheel me into the ER and prep me there. Yes, it was that close.
I'm extremely thankful for the medical staff that night at the hospital who did what was necessary for my son and I PRAISE GOD for his grace and his mercy in allowing my son to be a normal, healthy 6 year old today.
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First family picture. Excuse Mommy and Daddy's appearance. We'd been up all night :)
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Tuesday, September 11, 2012
The day the Lord has made!
"This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 119:24
Today is September 11, 2012
Almost all of us, over about the age of 16 remember where we were, what we were doing and who we were with when we heard about the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington, D.C.
I was a flight attendant with America West Airlines and I happened to have the day off. Less than 2 weeks earlier I had moved and was living with a new roommate, in the townhouse she owned. My roommate (Kristina) was also a flight attendant and we were both accustomed to working red-eye flights and going to bed at odd hours, even on our days off so when the phone rang very early (probably around 6:30) I didn't get out of bed to answer it. Because I knew by the distinctive ring that the call was from one of my roommate's friends or family I stayed in bed wondering who would call her on our home phone this early, knowing we were day sleepers and rolled back over to get more sleep before having to start my day.
I don't know how long it was after the phone rang, but at some point afterwards Kristina opened my bedroom door and woke me up by saying, "There's been a terrorist attack on U.S. soil". "Huh?" Her words registered, but it sounded so foreign and so far out of anything I'd ever considered that it took me a few minutes, plus I had just woken up after only having a couple of hours sleep so I spent a moment trying to shake off the sleep and attempt to comprehend what she'd just told me.
The phone call I'd ignored was Kristina's dad telling her to turn on the news. We didn't have cable, and the only TV in our house was upstairs in her loft bedroom so we spent the next several hours watching TV while fielding phone calls from concerned friends and family wanting to find out if we were home or if we were working. While we fielded phone calls on our cell phones and our home phone we also were making outgoing phone calls to check on our friends who also worked in the industry. At one point I looked at the date on my phone and saw it was 9-11. Weird.
Kristina had a guy friend (who is now her husband and theirs was the wedding I'd attended the night I met my husband) who landed at Boston's Logan airport just as American Flight 11 was taxiing down the runway for it's doomed flight.
As Kristina and I sat on her bed while news reporters tried to make sense of the attacks Kristina and I knew what nobody else was saying: We KNEW the pilots were dead, and were not in control of their aircraft, when those planes hit their targets. Having worked in the airline industry for 3 years we knew that there was NO WAY the pilots would've crashed the planes into those buildings while they were alive. We knew, even with a gun to their head, the pilots would've crashed their aircraft into the Hudson before killing innocents on the ground.
As the reports came in about United 93 our first reaction was that the pilots had taken it down in an effort to save lives on the ground because we'd learned a few things about pilots in our day and we KNEW there wasn't a pilot out there who would commit these heinous acts, even under duress.
As the day progressed we knew our loved ones were on the ground and we had to continue living in the real world. (As an aside, I remember going to Wal-Mart at 9:30 that night to buy a toothbrush and feeling guilty for doing something so routine on such a horrific day when so many people had lost their lives.)
If I remember correctly Kristina had a dentist appointment. I was scheduled to work at my part-time job at a Christian bookstore. Two things from my afternoon shift stand out to me. I remember talking with people about how the world changed that day for all of us and I remember saying, "No. The world didn't change. Our perception of the world has changed. The world has always been an evil, fallen place. The only thing that's changed is we thought we were immune to these problems that happen in other places"
I also remember ringing up a lady's purchases and as I placed her items in the bag I noticed one of the things she had bought was a plaque with Psalm 118: 24 on it "This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." In that moment I felt God speaking to me and reminding me that even on a day as dark as that one He is still God and He is still in control. Regardless of my circumstances He is still God, He is still in control and every day is a day He has made. Evil may seem to take over, but God is still God.
For the past 11 years every time I see that verse I am reminded of that moment and God's message to me. No matter what circumstances you're facing right now remember that today is the day the LORD has made and we are to rejoice and be glad in it.
Today is September 11, 2012
Almost all of us, over about the age of 16 remember where we were, what we were doing and who we were with when we heard about the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington, D.C.
I was a flight attendant with America West Airlines and I happened to have the day off. Less than 2 weeks earlier I had moved and was living with a new roommate, in the townhouse she owned. My roommate (Kristina) was also a flight attendant and we were both accustomed to working red-eye flights and going to bed at odd hours, even on our days off so when the phone rang very early (probably around 6:30) I didn't get out of bed to answer it. Because I knew by the distinctive ring that the call was from one of my roommate's friends or family I stayed in bed wondering who would call her on our home phone this early, knowing we were day sleepers and rolled back over to get more sleep before having to start my day.
I don't know how long it was after the phone rang, but at some point afterwards Kristina opened my bedroom door and woke me up by saying, "There's been a terrorist attack on U.S. soil". "Huh?" Her words registered, but it sounded so foreign and so far out of anything I'd ever considered that it took me a few minutes, plus I had just woken up after only having a couple of hours sleep so I spent a moment trying to shake off the sleep and attempt to comprehend what she'd just told me.
The phone call I'd ignored was Kristina's dad telling her to turn on the news. We didn't have cable, and the only TV in our house was upstairs in her loft bedroom so we spent the next several hours watching TV while fielding phone calls from concerned friends and family wanting to find out if we were home or if we were working. While we fielded phone calls on our cell phones and our home phone we also were making outgoing phone calls to check on our friends who also worked in the industry. At one point I looked at the date on my phone and saw it was 9-11. Weird.
Kristina had a guy friend (who is now her husband and theirs was the wedding I'd attended the night I met my husband) who landed at Boston's Logan airport just as American Flight 11 was taxiing down the runway for it's doomed flight.
As Kristina and I sat on her bed while news reporters tried to make sense of the attacks Kristina and I knew what nobody else was saying: We KNEW the pilots were dead, and were not in control of their aircraft, when those planes hit their targets. Having worked in the airline industry for 3 years we knew that there was NO WAY the pilots would've crashed the planes into those buildings while they were alive. We knew, even with a gun to their head, the pilots would've crashed their aircraft into the Hudson before killing innocents on the ground.
As the reports came in about United 93 our first reaction was that the pilots had taken it down in an effort to save lives on the ground because we'd learned a few things about pilots in our day and we KNEW there wasn't a pilot out there who would commit these heinous acts, even under duress.
As the day progressed we knew our loved ones were on the ground and we had to continue living in the real world. (As an aside, I remember going to Wal-Mart at 9:30 that night to buy a toothbrush and feeling guilty for doing something so routine on such a horrific day when so many people had lost their lives.)
If I remember correctly Kristina had a dentist appointment. I was scheduled to work at my part-time job at a Christian bookstore. Two things from my afternoon shift stand out to me. I remember talking with people about how the world changed that day for all of us and I remember saying, "No. The world didn't change. Our perception of the world has changed. The world has always been an evil, fallen place. The only thing that's changed is we thought we were immune to these problems that happen in other places"
I also remember ringing up a lady's purchases and as I placed her items in the bag I noticed one of the things she had bought was a plaque with Psalm 118: 24 on it "This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." In that moment I felt God speaking to me and reminding me that even on a day as dark as that one He is still God and He is still in control. Regardless of my circumstances He is still God, He is still in control and every day is a day He has made. Evil may seem to take over, but God is still God.
For the past 11 years every time I see that verse I am reminded of that moment and God's message to me. No matter what circumstances you're facing right now remember that today is the day the LORD has made and we are to rejoice and be glad in it.
Friday, July 2, 2010
It's HOT out there . . . and I'm praising God!
I live in Phoenix, AZ. It's HOT here in the summer. The highs this week have been above 110. I vividly remember that July 4, 2007 it was 117! The overnight low has been around 90. While I'm thankful the low is 30+ degrees cooler than in the heat of the day, it's not comfortable.
I ran a couple of errands this morning. I loaded my two toddlers into and out of the car, across parking lots and into multiple stores. According to my vehicle, it was 102 at 8:30am. One of our stops was to drop 4 cases of water off at a local store, which collects items for Phoenix Rescue Mission. I got home and had to take a quick shower before guests arrrived because I needed to cool down.
I got in the shower and started thinking about how hot it's been, how my friends keep mentioning the heat on facebook, and how annoyed I was that in the rush of getting ready for friends to come over this morning I had to stop what I was doing to take a shower I hadn't planned on. I thought about the bottles of water I had just dropped off and realized the people who would be drinking that water would be THRILLED to be in an air conditioned house (like I was), taking a cool shower (like I was), and have a table full of fresh fruits, muffins, and cookies waiting for them (like I had).
God changed my perspective in that moment. It's hot outside. It's miserable. While it's hot and miserable outside, I get to hide in my air conditioned house. When I'm not in my house, I'm in an air conditioned car or an air conditioned building. I thought about the thousands of homeless people in Phoenix who have no relief from the heat. Each year homeless people die in Arizona from heat related illnesses. I thought about how I was inwardly complaining about an inconvenience when people in my city are dying. I realized how good I have it and that I have nothing to complain about when the mercury rises.
Here's my challenge to you (and me):
1) Turn your a/c up a couple of degrees this weekend and instead of giving money to your utility company donate it to Phoenix Rescue Mission or a group in your community that serves the homeless.
2) Buy a case of water to donate. For information about a drop off center in your area check out Phoenix Rescue Mission's Water Page. Maricopa County has several hydration station/heat refuges and you can donate water here
3) Next time you're tempted to complain (even inwardly) about how uncomfortable you are stop and think about how much you have to be thankful for. "Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure . . ." Philippians 2:14, 15a
I ran a couple of errands this morning. I loaded my two toddlers into and out of the car, across parking lots and into multiple stores. According to my vehicle, it was 102 at 8:30am. One of our stops was to drop 4 cases of water off at a local store, which collects items for Phoenix Rescue Mission. I got home and had to take a quick shower before guests arrrived because I needed to cool down.
I got in the shower and started thinking about how hot it's been, how my friends keep mentioning the heat on facebook, and how annoyed I was that in the rush of getting ready for friends to come over this morning I had to stop what I was doing to take a shower I hadn't planned on. I thought about the bottles of water I had just dropped off and realized the people who would be drinking that water would be THRILLED to be in an air conditioned house (like I was), taking a cool shower (like I was), and have a table full of fresh fruits, muffins, and cookies waiting for them (like I had).
God changed my perspective in that moment. It's hot outside. It's miserable. While it's hot and miserable outside, I get to hide in my air conditioned house. When I'm not in my house, I'm in an air conditioned car or an air conditioned building. I thought about the thousands of homeless people in Phoenix who have no relief from the heat. Each year homeless people die in Arizona from heat related illnesses. I thought about how I was inwardly complaining about an inconvenience when people in my city are dying. I realized how good I have it and that I have nothing to complain about when the mercury rises.
Here's my challenge to you (and me):
1) Turn your a/c up a couple of degrees this weekend and instead of giving money to your utility company donate it to Phoenix Rescue Mission or a group in your community that serves the homeless.
2) Buy a case of water to donate. For information about a drop off center in your area check out Phoenix Rescue Mission's Water Page. Maricopa County has several hydration station/heat refuges and you can donate water here
3) Next time you're tempted to complain (even inwardly) about how uncomfortable you are stop and think about how much you have to be thankful for. "Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure . . ." Philippians 2:14, 15a
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