I hadn’t realized how nervous I was feeling about Sage’s MRI until I woke up in the night to nurse her and couldn’t get back to sleep afterwards. I just stared at her as she slept beside me. I knew an MRI was the next step we needed to take, but the thought of my baby under general anesthesia of course made me nervous.

In the morning before we left I was a flurry of nervous mommy energy, darting this way and that as I tried to get us out the door. I felt so grateful that my in-laws had taken Thad the night before (his first ever sleep over) and I didn’t have to deal with a two year old along with everything else. There have been so many moments lately when I send up silent thoughts of gratitude that we now live close to family for this season of our lives.

And then we arrived at Seattle Children’s.

And again I said a quick prayer of gratitude that we live where we do. We always had pretty positive experiences with medical things in Prague, and felt well taken care of the few times we went to Prague hospitals for various reasons. But, there is something unimaginably calming when you walk nervously into a hospital building and are quickly greeted by people and signs that speak your language. There was no guess work, there was no translating. Sigh of relief.
But, Seattle children’s wasn’t just a good hospital experience because it was in English. I felt like it was a good hospital experience compared with others in the states as well. Everything was very well organized and structured, the building was clean and even beautiful in places. You could tell things had been well thought through. And well thought though with kids in mind. For example, this was the fun, inviting playground outside our window.

Most of all though, everyone was just so friendly. People smiled and greeted us in the halls and asked if we needed help finding anything (that never happened in Prague hospitals). The doctors working with us really wanted to put us at ease. The anesthesiologist talked with us for quite a while, answering our questions, explaining what they would do, and even sharing stories about his own kids to help put us at ease. They were all very understanding and helpful.

When it came time they brought us and Sage to a prep area. We were able to hold her hand and be with her as they put her under. It was amazing to me how quickly she fell asleep. She looked so peaceful and still. We both gave her a kiss and then went up to Starbucks to wait.

We got back to our room about forty minutes after we left her and waited for them to bring her back in, which wasn’t very long. When she got back she had a breathing tube in her nose. They had her hooked up to a machine to monitor her heart rate and all that. They took her temperature and did a heel prick to check her blood sugar. Everything looked good. She looked so small alone in the little bed. She shivered, we tucked the blanket closer around her. She looked beautiful.

They told us that as soon as she woke up we could hold her and I could nurse her. We waited. They said she should wake up soon. We waited. An hour went by. We waited. That period of waiting for her to wake up was probably the hardest for me. I was glad for the equipment monitoring her and that the doctors regularly checked on her. Eventually she woke up and was starving. We cuddled and nursed.

They wanted to monitor her till 1pm. So we sat and read and cuddled and nursed. Apart from not being completely comfortable those few hours felt a little like a vacation to me. I didn’t have to do dishes, or laundry, or entertain a toddler, or listen to “mommy!mommy!” being screamed at me. Instead I got to just cuddle with my baby and talk and read with my husband for two hours. That part of the day was really nice.

Really the whole experience went as well as it possibly could have. The only negative was that we weren’t able to get an appointment with the neurologist until April. So, as of right now, we won’t know the results of the MRI until then. It’s a little frustrating to have gone through the stress of the MRI and know that there is information available about my daughters condition, but to still not know what that on formation is until April.

We were at least able to get a print out of the report and a cd of the MRI. We are thinking since we have the results we will try and see if we can get into a different neurologist to have someone interpret the results for us sooner. Or…anyone reading this know how to understand brain MRIs??

Whatever happens I find myself being continually reminded to take life one day at a time and to take this change in perceptions and expectations about my daughter one little piece of information at a time.

Rejoicing in the journey,
Bethany Stedman

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On Friday we braved the snow and slush and went to Seattle Children’s Hospital for another neurologist appointment for Sage. It was the first appointment we had about her microcephaly where the doctor didn’t say, “well, it could be nothing…” the neurologist we saw was thorough, asking a lot of questions and spending a lot of time looking at Sage, checking her reflexes and movements. He was straight forward and clear, telling us that he definitely saw enough to concern him. He told us that her head is now 2.8 deviations and that since her weight and height are on the growth chart it’s called disproportionate microcephaly. He recommended an MRI, saying that it was the best place to start figuring out what is going on and would give us some direction.

And then it happened… He told us he thought we should start having someone work with her and getting her some early therapy. Then he gave us a packet for “children with special needs” It made my head spin…”special needs” I knew Sage had microcephaly. I knew there was a chance that she would have some delays, and although I knew that label was a possibility I hadn’t really imagined it or truly thought of my child as having special needs until that moment.

It was like a reality check for me.

Suddenly I was reminded of when I took a class in college on Teaching Children with Special Needs. I remember feeling convinced during that class, with an irrational intuition, that I was going to have a child with special needs. And I remember begging God to not let that happen. Now I look at Sage and I can’t imagine asking God that I wouldn’t have her and can’t imagine having any other child. But, I still wish I knew for certain that she would be able to live a completely full functioning, “normal” life. But, I knew in that moment that wasn’t a certainty I could have. It may yet turn out that way, but there’s enough concerns that I have to come to terms with the fact that it might not.

I sat there a minute a little stunned still by the term “special needs”.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. I couldn’t justify the fact that she hasn’t met her milestones. I couldn’t keep holding on to the “well, it could be nothing” statements.

All along I have sort of known this was coming. I knew something wasn’t normal. Not in the way you know that two plus two equals four but with an intuitive sort of knowing.

When she was six weeks old I had a vivid dream within a dream where things kept threatening Sage and I had to fight for her and protect her. At the most vivid part I saw a number of wasps and hornets stinging Sage. I woke up still in the dream and preceded to dream that everything that had happened in the dream within a dream was happening in real life. It was after having this dream that I knew we had to schedule Sage’s first well visit with the pediatrician.

Maybe it’s bad for me to say it but I’m glad that we didn’t go in earlier, glad that we had those two months of ignorance, to just be with Sage, bond with her and get to know her. Being able to bond with her without the uncertainties of microcephaly hanging over our head was precious and I’m grateful for it.

But, as we sat with the neurologist I knew that the time of denial was over. It was time for a new season. Time to grow up and face my new reality. Time to do the research. Time to make the phone calls. Time to get the help. Time to do whatever we can to make sure that my special little girl can have the best life possible.

On February 2nd Sage will have an MRI of her head and spine. It will be under general anesthesia. If you pray, pray for her safety, pray that we get the best possible answers, pray that we are able to get the results back quickly (as it is right now our follow up with neurology isn’t able to be scheduled until April – we don’t want to wait that long) and pray that we have no problem getting the MRI pre-approved with our insurance.

Rejoicing in the journey,
Bethany Stedman

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I thought an easy way for me to document the year without dwelling on it too much would be to just compile a quick list of my most popular and favorite posts from the past year, but as I started to look at my analytics and thought back on the post I’ve written this year, well, it just didn’t seem like a really good gauge for what happened this year. Sure I wrote about leaving Prague, my sister-in-law getting married, birthing my second child at home, and deciding to move to Seattle. Those were big events from this year. But, what I couldn’t write about was the pain we carried for those we cared about who faced abuse, divorce, law suits, loss of income, foreclosures, miscarriages, cancer, and more. What I couldn’t put into words was the many goodbyes, the internal struggles with placelessness, loneliness, and the overhanging unknowns.

It felt like the ground was constantly shifting underneath us this year. Even as I watch the ground continue to shake for many I love I feel our footing stabilizing for the first time all year, perhaps for the first time in a few years. We’ve been tossing about in a sea of uncertainty and instability and we’ve finally reached solid land. I admit I had more than a little trepidation about where we were landing, but now that we’re here I feel like I can finally breath with my feet on firm soil.

I feel excited about 2012. I feel excited about the future in a way that I haven’t felt since our first year in Prague. I feel like Bryan and I are coming into our own for the first time feeling more at peace with who we are, what we are doing and where we are going than we ever have.

2012 may not look as exciting from the outside, we won’t be gallivanting around Europe, having dinner parties with people from all over the world. We won’t be living in an intentional community/farm like we had thought we might be. We wont be having a baby, starting a new career, or moving. We won’t be doing exciting things, and our actions this year probably won’t change the world. For the first time since we first got married our life will look prettying much the same as an other suburban family. But, I feel like it fits for now. It works for this stage of life. And at least right now, I’m excited about it.

I don’t think I have ever felt so anxious to say goodbye to a year as I am to say goodbye to 2011. Nor have I ever felt so anxious to start a year as I am to start 2012. So bring on the bubbly, let’s get this party started and ring this year in right!

Rejoicing in the journey,
Bethany Stedman

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You can expect to be given a home cooked meal made of real food…but, it’s very likely that there will be dirty dishes in the sink.
Expect to be eating largely organic, free-range, and grass fed as the case may be…but my toddler may sing ABCs during dinner, or reach clear across the table for bread, or roll his toy car on your back.
Expect that I will have good beer (usually local) that you can enjoy…but, you may be dragged to the playroom to play cars or asked to hold the baby for a bit.
Expect to be heartily welcomed…but, you may be asked to leave early because we aren’t afraid to kick people out because we’re tired.
Expect casual, comfortable and usually messy.
Expect laughter and conversation…but expect it to be interrupted by kids and seasoned with awkwardness now and then.

If I invite you to my home for dinner…

I expect you to play with my kids at least a little.
I expect you to make yourself at home – take your shoes off, help yourself to water, beer, raw milk or whatever other drinks are around, change the music if you want.
Excuse the mess and pardon the kids chaos.

I love having people over, i would usually much rather have people in my home than go to someone else’s, but I’m not a Martha Stewart type of host. When I invite someone over I invite them into a little bit of myself – I am messy, and unfinished and so is my home. I am not interested in facades or perfection, I can’t maintain them. I am interested in friendship, I am interested in building authentic community.

I will welcome you into my home on the day when my kids took extra long naps, and I am refreshed and prepared, and on the day when I only got two hours of sleep and didn’t have time to clean. I will welcome you in on the days when I’m energized and creative and the days when I just can’t snap out of my negative funk. Sometimes I might ask all the right questions and we’ll have a great conversation. Other times I might be tired and awkward and we may end up just watching an episode of Friends or Modern Family together.

So, come on over. Come in and take a seat. Breathe. Relax. I won’t pretend if you won’t. Welcome to the mess, the chaos, the unfinished work in progress. Welcome to my home.

Rejoicing in the journey,
Bethany Stedman

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Our pediatrician recommended blood tests and an MRI to try and determine the cause and extent of the issue. So far the blood work has all come back normal and we have yet to do the MRI. We’ve also seen a neurologist and been referred to a geneticist. As we’ve learned a little more though, it seems likely that we will never know a cause or, in advance, how it might effect her. It also seems likely that she will have some developmental delays of some sort. They could be mild delays or severe delays, they may show up right away or not for a while, and at this point it seems we have no way of knowing.

I honestly feel weird writing about it, since I don’t feel like we really know anything. All we really know is that she’s measuring at 2.4 deviations and that there’s a good chance she will have some developmental delays, although there’s also a chance she could grow up without any noticeable delays at all. We just don’t know.

In some ways I’ve been really thankful that we found this out right in the middle of a move, when there’s lots to do and not much opportunity to stop and think. The little research I’ve been able to do has made me realize that maybe its better for my psyche if I don’t do any at all. It’s hard to feel so helpless, though, and to live with this constant unknown.

I love my little girl so much. We bonded so much more quickly than I did with my son. I look at her and my heart melts. I can’t imagine my life without her and have already sort of forgotten what life was like before she was born. I want her to have a wonderful and full life. I don’t want her quality of life to be diminished because of this. I don’t want her life to be more difficult because of this. It breaks my heart to think of all of the what-ifs and how this may affect her over time.

And then she locks eyes with me and smiles and I know that whatever comes we are going to be ok. My beautiful little girl will always be my beautiful little girl. And I feel ready to face whatever comes, together, as a family.

Rejoicing in the journey –
Bethany Stedman

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I can sort of see my mom’s look of horror as I write this – of course you shouldn’t do dreadlocks in your hair!!! Get a good easy to maintain hair cut and BRUSH YOUR HAIR! After all she chopped her hair short after having kids, as so may people do. But, I’m not really a fan of the short hair cut, and I’ve always secretly sort of liked dreadlocks. There’s something about them that personifies an ideal I have – a part of the person I’ve secretly wanted to be, but I’m not quite sure I really am.

To me they are characteristic of a natural, earthy, hippie. I’ve always had a little bit of a hippie bent to me and it’s only gotten stronger in recent years, but I’m not sure I’m really hippie when it comes down to it – natural, YES; earthy, a little bit; hippie, well maybe.

But, then there’s the other things that dreadlocks personify to me… Words like bold, culturally brave, and a little bit rebellious. Those are words that I would like to personify, but deep down I’m not sure they are really me either. Sure I’ve been known to make some decisions that go against the norm, like long term breastfeeding, tandem nursing, and natural home birth. But, bold, brave, and rebellious aren’t really words I’d use to describe myself. I was the kid who rarely got in trouble because my own guilt and desire to be liked kept me well within the lines. I still have problems speaking my mind (well, at least in person) and rarely stand up for myself or my ideas when face to face with an authority figure. I’m not bold, brave or rebellious, but I’d like to be a little more that way. I want to be able to hold my own in a conversation, defend my believes, fight for things I care about, and openly go against the grain when I feel necessary. Maybe there’s a part of me that wants dreadlocks because I think it would be a good practice in pushing myself to not just blend in, bend over, or get out of the way. It would be a practice in pushing myself out of the box. I even think that the fact that it would cause some people to make preconceived judgements about me might help me to be bolder. If they have already pre-judged me as a hippie, then it would free me up to let some of my more hippie tendencies out.

But, then sometimes I wonder if my wrestling with this question is, on a much deeper level, me wrestling with the self that I want to be and the self that I am. There is a big part of me that wants to be that hippie, crunchy, mama. You know, the one with four or five kids all birthed at home, who sews her own cloths, grows her own food, cooks using only organic and local ingredients, home schools or unschools her children, spends hours just playing and ramping through the woods with her kids, doesn’t have a tv, has chickens, makes her kids toys from natural materials, bans plastic, allows her kids to self-wean, is artistic, has an active yoga practice, parents gently, is in touch with nature, her own femininity, and God…and the list goes on. There’s a part of me that holds up this ideal, but there’s also a growing part of me that is starting to feel that although I may like that ideal and may even do some of those things at one point or another, it’s not really me, at least not completely. The truth is I yell at my son, I hope I’m never pregnant again, I don’t know how I’d keep sane without sesame street and other PBS shows, I occasionally warm up our food in the microwave, I have the worst brown thumb ever and kill everything I try to grow, we have plastic toys, I don’t know how to play, I’d probably be happier inside with a book than outside getting bit by bugs, I love convenience and speed, I can’t afford to buy all organic, and at least at the moment I am completely out of touch with God, nature and myself.

Maybe I want dreadlocks because I feel in some small way it would be like affirming and taking a small public step towards the self that I want to be. Or maybe I want them because I’m in denial about the self that I actually am… I don’t know. What do you think?

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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We will be in Arizona through thanksgiving and will then fly up to Seattle November 30th at which point we will hopefully quickly move into our own place and plan on living in the Seattle area for a while.

When we first came back to the states I wrote about why I felt ready to move back and some questions I wanted to work through as we tried to decide where to live. I feel so disconnected from those posts now. I think i still feel some of the reasons why i wanted to come back to the states, but in the past few months I’ve also felt some reverse culture shock, some changing of hopes and expectations, and some “homesickness” for Prague. I still feel like this is where we are suppose to be and that it was still a good decision to leave Prague, but I don’t feel some of the raw hurt I felt towards Prague anymore, or some of the intense hope I felt about being back in the states.

I also feel like when it came down to it we didn’t really work through the questions I posted before. When it came down to it we didn’t have the luxury of making the decision with that kind of conscious self evaluation.

One thing Bryan and I really value is intentionality. We want to live intentionally, we don’t want to just go through the motions, or do things because that’s the way everyone else is doing them or because it’s what we always thought we’d do. We want to make decisions with open eyes, questioning ourselves. We don’t want to decide on something just because it’s the fall back option, or just because it’s easy, or just because we don’t have a better option. That being said, I’ve learned something as we’ve tried to decide where we will be living – there’s a place for choosing something because it’s easy, instead of ideal.

I feel like moving up to Seattle was the only really logical choice right now. It doesn’t feel ideal to me, but it feels like the obvious choice. Honestly, I’ve had a bit of a hard time with the decision, and have had to grieve over it.

Seattle never fully felt like home to me before and it still doesn’t.

But, today I’m feeling hopeful. Hopeful that Bryan and I can really reconnect with old friends up there and build a new community for ourselves as well. Hopeful that our children can develop closer relationships with their grandparents and aunt and uncle (and other extended family) up there. Hopeful that we can rediscover church up there. Hopeful that being there will benefit Bryan’s career and expand his skills. And over all hopeful that it will be a good place for us to be during this very unique stage of life that is dominated by young children.

Like I said at the beginning of this post, I have NO idea what the future will hold for us. I have no idea if we will be in Seattle for one year or fifty. Honestly, I’m trying not to think about it. What I do know is that it is the clear next step for us and I really want to make the best out of it that I can.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I felt weak, scared and tired. I didn’t feel like “one tough mamma.” Shell kept saying, “you’re so strong.” But, I didn’t believe her, I couldn’t believe her. I didn’t feel strong. I felt weak, in fact I felt all of the weaknesses and inadequacies that I’d wrestled with ever since becoming a mother two years ago come rushing over me. I felt like I couldn’t do it… and so I couldn’t. I didn’t really want to push her out. I was scared of feeling “that pain” again. I was scared of bleeding too much (as I had with Thaddeus). I was scared that she would be just as difficult as Thad was and scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle having two kids. I was scared that the pain was going to continue forever and just wanted it to be over, but I didn’t want to go through the only door that would make the pain stop.

Finally, I muttered out something about feeling discouraged. Shell decided to do an internal to see what was going on. I remember her putting her fingers against my coccyx on the inside and telling me that was where the baby needed to go, that I needed to push the baby into that space. I knew she was right and I tried to do what she was asking, but it was a half hearted attempt. As soon as she had touched that area I was flooded with the muscle memory of Thad’s birth, I remembered that spot and the pain it took to push Thad past it (Thad had gotten stuck at my coccyx since it hadn’t moved out of the way like it should have, Shell had to pull it out of the way and we are pretty sure I either broke or bruised it during that labor). The memory of that felt so tangible and I couldn’t bring myself to push past it.

It was at this point that Shell suggested we do something she called “the rotisserie” and took a moment to describe it to us. Basically the laboring women lays on her back for a contraction or two pushing her lower back into the floor then turns to lay on her side with her top leg bent and bottom leg relatively stretched out for a contraction or two and then on hands and knees for a contraction or two and then on the other side for a contraction or two and then back to her back for a contraction or two.

We did two rotations this way. I have never known pain like that. It was beyond intense, it was unbearable. I remember kind of hating Shell in that moment for making me do this. Normally I deal with contractions with a fair amount of movement so having to be in one position the whole contraction was excruciating and the fact that most of those positions were not comfortable positions for me made it extra hard.

During my last rotation Shell turned the water on in the bath and started filling it up, I can’t really explain the feeling I felt when I heard that tub turn on. On the one hand I was sort of ecstatic thinking that the end of the rotisserie must be soon and imagining how nice the water would feel. I spent almost all of my labor with Thad in the tub and felt such relief from that. Earlier in labor the tub had come up – I think my sister asked if I was going to use it – and I hesitated and didn’t really know how to answer. Shell said something about how it seemed I wanted to see which came first if I reached my breaking point or if the baby came. I remember thinking she was exactly right.

As I did that rotisserie and heard the tub filling up I knew I had reached my breaking point and it was time for the tub – really I felt like I had reached my breaking point long before this and was just so far past the breaking point as to be completely desperate by this time. I was also angry as the tub filled up though, because I just wanted to get in it right then, and Shell asked me to do another set on my back and on my side – I remember feeling really angry in that moment. I didn’t want to do any more. I wanted to get in the tub. I didn’t think I was capable of doing any more – I was already broken into pieces, there wasn’t any strength left. But, then I did it. When I thought that I was completely unable to, when I thought I had no strength left, when I thought I was already broken as far as I could be…I did it. I broke more. And even without strength I pressed through…screamed through, but made it.

When I finally got in the tub it was such a relief, but things were still moving pretty fast and intense. I remember the water felt like it was really cold to me, even though Shell and Bryan kept telling me that it was plenty warm. I shivered and turned on the hot anyway.

By this point I really wanted it over. I pushed a bit in the tub, but quickly felt like I had to pooh. I got out and went to the toilet. I poohed a little and worked through a contraction on the toilet and then it hit… My bottom split open – or at least that’s what it felt like. I jumped off the toilet and cried out “she’s coming!” Bryan had just then gone to get me more water, so Shell hollered for him to come back and he was there a second later. It was then that I really started to push.

I reached up to feel the head as I had with Thaddeus. It felt so different, so smooth, I was a little freaked out at first. It wasn’t until later that I realized what I was feeling wasn’t exactly the head – it was the head still wrapped in the membranes since my waters hadn’t broken yet.

I squatted in a sort of half kneeling half squatting position and pushed, Shell and Bryan pushed in on my hips from either side. I pushed more. There was a popping feeling and sound as my waters broke. It was 3:22am. I pushed more and reached down (Shell said I actually pushed her hands out of the way, but I don’t totally remember that) what I do remember is Bryan and I together catching our beautiful little girl. She was born at 3:25am on labor day, September 5th. She had her hand up by her ear and her chin tilted up instead of tucked down, which explained some of why the pain had been so intense.

I laid her down on the floor in front of me and waited a minute or two till I was feeling like I was back in my body and ready to pick her up. I held her for a moment, but felt pretty shaky and laid her back down in front of me as Shell gave me a shot of pitocin (we had decided to do pitocin right away after the birth since we had some concerns about hemorrhaging). Shell also gave me a drink of Chinese herbs after the shot.

After the cord had stopped pulsating we cut the cord. I remember asking Shell about waiting till I delivered the placenta and having her tell me with a little bit of urgency in her voice that she wanted to get it cut and me laying down. She showed me the cord then and it had clearly stopped pulsating so Bryan went ahead and cut it. Shell then had me lay down with the baby on my chest/belly. Bryan and Shell both kept telling me to look at them and keep my eyes open, which I remember being really annoyed with because I thought I felt fine… just tired. I remember thinking, “It’s all over now so why can’t I just rest for a second?” I also remember feeling a lot of pressure from the placenta and feeling so relieved when it was delivered. Shell said something about it coming out a different way from normal, something about how placentas coming out that way are more commonly low laying in the uterus.

Bryan was asking me what song was playing on the playlist, it was A Thankful Heart, which was the first song that had played from the playlist back at the beginning of my labor. He kept telling me to keep my eyes open and I still felt annoyed. By this point I couldn’t stop shaking, which is not uncommon for women after birth. Shell gave me some oxygen and kept asking “are you with us? Bethany! Look at me.” I guess I must have looked much worse than I felt.

Shell checked me out and told us my bleeding was really light (a big relief), she also told us I didn’t need any stitches (of course that was also a relief). I think she checked my heart rate and blood pressure as well and all was normal. She told us that physically I was perfectly fine. Nothing was wrong with me. But, she and Bryan still seemed worried about me and wouldn’t let me close my eyes. For the next little bit they seemed to focus on keeping me from passing out. Bryan brought me a couple of spoonfuls of raw honey and that seemed to really help. Once I started to feel a bit better I really wanted to sit up since my back hurt and I still felt pressure while laying on it.

I sat up, leaning against the bathroom cabinets and held Sage. It was the first time I really truly looked at her. Bryan sat next to me and we both just stared at her. It was a really sweet moment for all of us and I was glad that we were able to enjoy that time for a little while. I nursed Sage a little, but she wasn’t all that interested. I remember Shell telling us that the song that had been playing when Sage was born was “Hey Jude” – I hadn’t even noticed.

After a bit, Shell took Sage to look her over and weight her. It was about then that Brie came in carrying Thaddeus. Thad cuddled up to me and together, with Bryan next to us, we all watched as Shell checked Sage out.

She weighed 5 pounds 15 ounces and was 18.5 inches long. Shell guessed by her reflexes and size that she was actually about 38.5 weeks gestation (we had already been speculating that my original estimated due date was wrong and this confirmed it). She was a tiny little one, but healthy and strong with the most beautiful rudy coloring.

After Shell was done I got cleaned up and crawled into bed with Sage. Shell took a short nap before checking us out again and heading home to get some rest. Bryan got Thad breakfast and played with him. And thus began our very long first day as a family of four.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I remember crying at the library. I checked email on the ipad while there and I got a really sweet and encouraging message from my friend, Melissa. In a moment when I was feeling especially discouraged about still being pregnant (I was a week past my estimated due date) she told me she was proud of me and wrote this “So today, instead of saying when is this baby going to get here?! I want you to say ‘I am one tough mama, I can handle this!! I can be patient for nature. Not everyone does this and I am proud of myself for waiting it out!!’ and give yourself a nice pat on the back. Or just pat your belly if that is easier.” It made me smile and then cry. And it made me feel a little better too. Little did I know how much I would need to hear, and remember her words that I was one tough momma in the hours to come.

My labor really got started Sunday evening around 6pm. I’d been having contractions steadily all afternoon, but they weren’t really labor contractions, they were just the same tightening feeling that I’d been having since I was about 20 weeks pregnant. But, around 6pm things changed, these contractions were different, they felt like labor. Suddenly as I felt them I remembered, really remembered, my first birth in a whole new way.

I continued having regular labor contractions as I made dinner and put Thaddeus to bed. When a contraction would hit I’d just lean over against the counter and do what I needed to do to deal with it and then go back to making dinner. We had a broccoli and green bean pasta for dinner. Bryan and I split a beer and toasted to the baby being born soon.

Dealing with the contractions got a little harder while putting Thad to sleep as they got more intense while I was nursing him. Thankfully he fell asleep quickly and I only had to work through two or three contractions while putting him to bed.

After Thad was asleep we called our midwife, Shell, and gave her a heads up about what was going on. Then I had some chocolate crème brûlée that my dad had made the night before and we tried to watch some tv. That didn’t last long.

It was getting later and things were moving along well so we started getting some stuff ready – moving birth supplies into the bedroom, changing the sheets on the bed, etc. We put on the playlist of songs I had made for the birth and danced our way through a few contractions. Shell called back to see how things were going and told us she was on her way. We called my sister and asked her to come be with Thad in case he woke up. We texted my mom (since we knew she was up any way because of the time difference in Cebu) and I sent off a quick email to some close friends who had agreed to pray with me throughout the last few weeks of pregnancy.

When Shell got here she started setting up her stuff, and helped me through a few contractions. Then we all moved out into the kitchen. Shell had one of dad’s crème brûlée’s and a coffee. Bryan and I had some tea and we all just sat and talked in-between contractions. Shell shared stories with us that made us laugh. (She really should write her memoirs some day – I know I would love to read that!)

Soon Brie arrived and joined us for a crème brûlée of her own and plenty of her own energy and talkativeness. The contractions at this point were difficult but manageable and Shell kept saying “I think you’ll be surprised. I think your farther along then you think you are.” which was of course an encouraging thing to hear.

After everyone had finished their desert and drinks we moved back into the bedroom and Shell did an internal exam – more for the opportunity to turn the baby since she was still posterior than to find out how dilated I was, but it was encouraging when she told us that my cervix was dilated to a five on it’s own but could easily stretch to an eight. My sister asked something about how much longer Shell thought it would be and Shell said something to the extent of it being up to me, that my cervix wasn’t really the issue, and it would quickly open and stretch as it needed to once I was ready and about how it was going to be more about me being ready and not afraid to push…or something like that. It was getting harder for me to concentrate at this point.

After I was checked Brie and Bryan started laying down the plastic floor covering stuff that we got to protect the carpet (my dad was worried we’d ruin the carpet in his bathroom again, like we had when my son was born). The stuff we got this time had adhesive on one side so it actually stuck to the carpet and didn’t slide around. It worked really well. My sister got really into the job of covering the carpet and even made a little “run way” from where I was laboring on the floor in the bedroom to the bathroom. It even had an arrow in the middle made out of duct tape. We all got a little chuckle out of it.

It was nice to laugh during labor – my labor with Thaddeus had been really, intense and heavy and even contemplative. Up to this point in my labor with Sage things were much lighter, more relaxed, and I felt much more present and grounded.

Once we moved into the bathroom with everything all set up I hit what I’m going to call the peeing stage of my labor. By this point the baby was very low in my pelvis and putting a lot of pressure on my bladder. For a while this was the pattern that was my reality – have a contraction, go to the toilet and pee, come back out, feel thirsty and have something to drink, have another contraction, get up again to pee, again have something to drink. It went on like this with me peeing about every two minutes for quite a while.

Then things slowed down a bit. I remember my sister asking numerous times “what are we waiting for?” and looking at her phone. I remember her asking Shell how much longer she thought it would be and how far along she thought I was now. I didn’t realize it at first but her anxiety and desire for it to be over started rubbing off on me. I was the one who really wanted it to be over, I was the one working through the pain every few minutes! My stress level rose.

I remember telling them that I felt a lot of pressure (which isn’t surprising since the baby was very low by now) and that I kind of wanted to push but didn’t really feel ready. Shell told me if I wanted to push I could try and that if I wasn’t ready it wouldn’t really do anything. For the next few contractions I pushed. Shell listened to the babies heart rate, which sounded great. The pushing felt nice with the contractions, but it didn’t really do anything.

I started to feel discouraged as Brie asked again “what are we waiting for”. There started to be longer distances between contractions. I remember during a particularly long break between contractions I thought to myself “you need to ask brie to leave” it was clear as day and I knew it was what I needed for everything to pick back up again. But I wrestled with telling her for what felt like a mini-eternity. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, I knew she had said she really wanted to be at the birth. I had planned on having her video the birth and take pictures (as long as Thad didn’t wake up), since I was always a little sad that I didn’t have video/pictures of Thad’s birth. Would brie take it the wrong way, or would she understand? I struggled with these things for a while, but I knew I had to ask her to leave. So, I asked her to go, and she did, and pretty much immediately things picked up again.

…. check back tomorrow for the rest of the story…

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I am 32 weeks pregnant this week and today I turn 29. In honor of these two significant numbers in my life this week I’m going to share with you all 3 things I’m praying for this baby + 2 things I’m praying for this birth. Then I’m gonna share 2 things I’m praying for this coming year + 9 things I’m thankful for from this past year.

3 + 2:

1. I’m praying that this baby is a much calmer baby than Thad was – that she doesn’t have colic, that she sleeps well, that she’s not as sensitive as her brother, and generally that she’s the kind of baby her daddy was and not the kind of baby I was.
2. I’m praying that she is light and joy. Maybe it sounds strange, but the first time I thought to myself “I think I’m pregnant” was on winter solstice, when light starts coming back into the world. Ever since then, I have had this prayer that I want this baby to bring light and joy. God knows that after this past few months Bryan and I and our whole family really need a ray of light and joy.
3. I’m praying that this baby girl is wise beyond her years. I’m praying that although she would be full of joy and light and bring those things to all who know her that she would not be trivial or flighty. I pray that there would be a solidity and a wisdom to her that would be at the root of her joyfulness.

+

1. I, of course, pray for a healthy birth for me and baby girl. I pray that there would be no complications, no need to transfer to the hospital, and for a quick and healthy afterbirth delivery with no excessive bleeding or hemorrhaging. I pray that the baby would have no problems and would adjust quickly to life outside the womb.
2. I also pray for this birth that it would be a more grounded, joyful experience than my first birth. Thaddeus’ birth was beautiful and intimate, but it was also shockingly intense and overwhelming. I feel like I know more of what to expect this time and I hope and pray that will make it less intense and shocking and enable me to be more grounded and joyful in the process. My first birth was also a very intimate experience between Bryan and I, which I loved, but this time I feel the need for more feminine energy, involvement, and nurturing, and pray that I can find that.

2 + 9:

1. This coming year feels so uncertain for me still and so I pray often for clarity and guidance as we step into it.
2. I also pray for place…for a place that we can belong and feel at home. A place where we can rest, heal, connect, feel supported, grow into ourselves, etc.

+

1. I’m thankful for our friendship with the Stewart family over this past year. We haven’t seen them in six months, but they were a life-line of support, creativity, love and friendship for us the first half of my 28th year and I am so grateful that I know that no matter where life takes them and us they will always be dear friends.
2. Another couple that was such a blessing to Bryan and I this past year is the Schwenders. Carrie and Mathias, we are so grateful for you both and all that you have done for us. We miss you guys – miss our prayer times, drinking times, Friends watching times, Želivka picnicking times, and just being with you both!
3. I’m also grateful that for half of this past year of my life I got to meet regularly with some of the most beautiful women I know. The three of you were an enormous encouragement to me! Thank you!
4. I’m thankful that this year Thaddeus moved out of the baby stage and into the toddler stage. Sure there are struggles with having a toddler, but I am so grateful for his growing independence and most of all his growing vocabulary. The first year of motherhood was so hard for me, and I’m so grateful that this second year has been much better.
5. As always, I’m thankful for Bryan. I can’t imagine walking through life with anyone else. He is an encouragement, strength, and deep friend. Bryan, I love you, and I really like you too! I would rather spend time with you than anyone else in the world. Thank you for the amazing husband and father you have been, especially in this past year. Whatever comes, I’m glad we get to face it together.
6. The past few years have been difficult for us financially, but as I look back especially over this past year I can see time and time again how God has stepped in and provided for us, occasionally in big ways, but more often in little ways – like the time when I really wanted butter, but Bryan hadn’t been paid on a project yet and we literally didn’t have money for butter that week, but found EXACTLY the amount for butter in coins on the street while taking a walk. I’m really thankful for God’s provision over this past year.
7. I’m so thankful that we started co-sleeping and have kept that up this whole past year. It was one of the best things that happened for me this year.
8. I’m thankful that we were able to come back to the states when we did and that we’ve been able to see my chiropractor and midwife and spend time with family and friends here for the past few months.
9. I’m thankful for the baby growing in my womb. As difficult as this pregnancy has been and even with as freaked out and unprepared as I sometimes feel to have two kids, I am so thankful for this baby girl and so excited to meet her in just a few more weeks.

Well, hope you enjoyed this little look into my current thoughts and prayers. Maybe someday my blog will go back to being slightly less personal, but for now it’s just nice to write about where I’m at. Thanks for continuing to read

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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