I want YOU!!

So, this morning, I posted a picture of a Bible Study I’m currently working though on my Instagram and Facebook… (Beth Moore’s Children of The Day – in case you didn’t see it.)

Let me tell you – this is good.

For those of you who have done a Beth Moore Bible Study – I don’t have to tell you how good this is. For those of you who haven’t ever had a chance to Study under Mrs. Moore, please believe me when I say: YOU NEED TO GO TO ONE OF HER BIBLE STUDIES! Her studies have been GAME-CHANGERS for me and so, so many others. I cannot tell you how much Bible Study has changed my entire life. Sound dramatic? It has been. But I’m not overstating when I say ENTIRE LIFE. I’ve often told Ben that I so wish that I would have had something like this available to me when I was younger – and I am so thankful that God has supplied opportunities for Bible Study for me now.

One of those times when I was talking about how I wish something like this had been supplied back home, God was like: "Well, what about you?"

Okay, so speaking to the ladies back home… (You know, the Ridgeland-Tillman-Coosawhatchie-Hardeeville-etc-etc  area.)Starting Sept 13^th and going until November 15^th, I will be headed back to good ol’ Jasper County every weekend.

WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD I DO THAT?!?!???

I miss the smothering humidity and heat – and you know I miss the bugs!! Just kidding, just kidding. It’s because I want to Study the Bible with you!! I want to give the women that I grew up around and with the opportunity to take part in something very dear to my heart. SO… every Saturday from 9:30AM – 11:30AM Jesus and I will be chilling at the old Social Hall at Great Swamp Baptist Church (No, you don’t have to know me or be a member of Great Swamp to show up. You don’t even have to be Baptist! Blackmail or bribe a friend to come with you if you want to!) drinking coffee and going through 1 & 2 Thessalonians with Beth Moore.

… and we’d like to see you there!

I know, it’s early.

I know, it’s Saturday.

BUT it’s worth it. It’s so worth it! Oh please don’t miss out if you can help it!

What’s all involved in this Bible Study?Well, there are four different levels to choose from:
Level One: You can just show up and watch the video sessions and chat with us.

Level Two: You can watch the video sessions and do the weekly homework. (It’s not bad – I promise!! The books are $15.00, but it’s worth the cash and the time. If you’d like to complete the homework, but you’re not sure if you can afford a book – Hey, I’ve been there. – just hit me up and we’ll see what we can work out.)

Level Three:  You can watch the videos, do the weekly homework, and write 1 & 2 Thessalonians in the back of your workbook.

Level Four: You can watch the videos, do the weekly homework, write 1 & 2 Thessalonians, and memorize 1 and/or 2 Thessalonians.

Okay, that sounds like a lot… I know, it’s intimidating. I’m asking you to show up early on a Saturday – for 9 weeks, dish out $15 bucks, and do homework and memorization?!?! (Don't worry, I'm going to try to work around Gopher Hill.) Yes, I’m asking you to do that. But I promise - Jesus will give you back WAY more than you’re putting in.

Best way I can explain it: ever seen the movie “Hitch”???

You go 10% of the way – and He’ll go 90%.

All he wants is your 10%, my friends.

If you have any questions or you’d like to come along, just call, text, or email me. My email is: ejcabiness@gmail.com

Lessons From A Car Seat

God has taught me so much through parenting.
One of the biggest and most special things He is teaching me, isn't about Peyton  - or even about myself. He is teaching me who HE is.

I have been wanting to write a few posts on this subject since I found out I was pregnant, but I find myself lacking in either the word or the time department.

I'm going to share this story now though, because I need to read it. Over and over, I need to read it.

Peyton isn't fond of her car seat. She's okay with it if she has a short drive, but you can hang long drives up.
The other night, we made a decently long drive to see a friend. (By long drive, I mean 35-45 minutes.) She was fine on the way there. She was out stone-cold. It was a much needed nap for her, and a relief for me... I hate to hear her cry. On the way home though, (Home: a place that she dearly loves.) I was not so blessed. She was tired. She was hungry. She hates that stinky old car seat. After about 10 minutes, the crying began.
I cannot begin to tell you how those little cries were tearing my heart to pieces. I would reach back and try to hold her hand. I would sing her songs. I called Ben and made him sing her songs over the phone. Multiple times I just flat out told her that we were going home. I told her she would get hurt if I took her out of the car seat. I told her it would take even longer to get home if we stopped the car and let her out for a bit.
She continued to cry.
She couldn't understand any of the things I was trying to get through to her.
She only understood three things:
1: I'm supposed to love her.
2: I put her in the car seat.
3: I am capable of taking her out of her car seat.

And yet, here I was - mean old Mommy - leaving her in the car seat. Couldn't I see she was unhappy? Didn't I care? Didn't I love her?

Yes. I love her. I cried because I knew my baby was unhappy. I just knew that for her safety and ultimate happiness, I had to leave her in that car seat for a while.

In the middle of my tearful explanations and apologizes to my child that refused to be patient and understanding, God painted a picture of my own life.

I've been there, (many, many times.) crying out to God: "You love me, don't you?! Don't you want me to be happy? Don't you want what's best for me? Why aren't you rescuing me? Why are you leaving me here? Why is this happening?" I cry and cry and cry... and then cry some more because I supposedly didn't get an answer.

First: While it's good to bring my anxieties to Him (1 Peter 5:7) - in these cases, instead of crying and talking incessantly, maybe I should calm down; maybe I would hear the answer. God doesn't always speak in a loud, thundering voice. (To be honest, I probably don't want him to do it that way. I'm completely sure that it would scare the living daylights out of me.) In 1 Kings 19:11-13, God spoke to Elijah not through the wind, fire, or even an earthquake - but in a still, small voice. Sometimes, I just need to shut-up long enough to hear Him.

Second: During those times, maybe I should accept the fact that there are some things that I am not able to understand. No matter how hard I try to explain to Peyton that she does not want to crawl down I-85, she will not understand. (Unless I put her out there, and I love her too much to do that.) She's not going to understand that the car seat that she hates so much, is for her protection. But I know those things. I must remember that there are some things and some times in life that I am either only going to understand later on - or I may never understand at all. I can trust that God is getting me to where ever it is, the fastest and safest way possible. He could be protecting me from something much greater than an uncomfortable momentary necessity.

Third: He hears my cries - and he cares. I'm his child. I believe that my cries break his heart - and that he will step in in a mighty way, when it is in my best interest. He doesn't want me unhappy any more than I want to be unhappy. He does want what is best for me, though - and since I don't always understand what's best for me, this means that I'm going to be unhappy some days. But I can rejoice in the fact that it is only for a little while - there is a greater joy on the other side.

Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing in his sheaves with him.

- Psalms 126: 5-6

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

- 2 Corinthians 4:17

Jesus answered him, "What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand."

- John 13:7

Letters to Peyton: War Buddies

Dear Peyton,

Tomorrow, you will be 8 months old! Can you believe it?! I can't. It feels like it was only yesterday... and yet, it feels like you've always been here.

Some women say that they instantly LOVE, LOVE, LOVE their babies the moment that they find out they are pregnant. I hate to tell you, but it wasn't that way with us. Don't get me wrong, I did love you, but not the way that I love you now. Our love has been a growing-love. I loved you the moment you were born, but not the way that I love you now. Our love has been forged in the fires of war, and strengthened by a lot of prayer and time.
I've often made the comparison that your Daddy and I are war buddies in our marriage. It's us against the world. When I held you for the first time, I felt as if they handed me another war buddy. I didn't realize at the time how accurate that idea would be.


The fact is, all of this love was made through some tough moments.
Moments when I didn't know if I could wake up enough to walk across the house to pick you up at 2 in the morning.
Moments when I couldn't figure out WHY IN THE WORLD IS SHE STILL CRYING?!
Moments when I have had to hand you to your Daddy, cry myself to sleep, and just nap for a while.
Moments when I was scared that I would drop you, drown you, or damage you.
Moments like the first time I hit your head. (I cried for 2 hours; you didn't cry at all.)
Moments like the first time I had to bathe you by myself. (Just so you know, you cried every time I put you in the bath. You didn't cry when your grandmothers bathed you, just me. Want to talk about a confidence killer?)
Moments when you would seriously feed for close to an hour. (You always fell asleep on the boob.)
Moments when I would fall asleep with you on my chest... I'd wake up freaking out and crying because I thought that I had killed you with the covers.
Moments when I couldn't hear or see you breathing... so I would (again) freak out and wake you up. (We would both cry when I did that.)
Moments at the doctors office when I was desperately praying that you would have gained a little weight - and that they wouldn't tell me that you'd have to be back again in another 3 days.
Days when we never left the comfort of the big bed. (We watched a lot of Doctor Who those first few weeks.)
Moments when I have to chase you around to put a diaper on your behind.
Moments of anger and jealousy when you seemed to want someone over me - or if people acted like they knew you and what was best for you, better than I did.
Moments when your Daddy and I have thought we were going to go crazy because you would not stop screaming because of how much you hate being in your car seat for anything longer than a 10 minute trip. (Unless you're sleepy, in which case, you love your car seat.)
Moments when I honestly wondered if any of us would ever make it through this thing alive.

Let me tell you, child: it is tough.
But let me tell you, child: it is good.

Oh I love your spunk! I love your little mischievous grin - like the one that you have when I try to get you to say "Mama" and you say "Dada" instead.
I love moments like last night. We took you to Charming Charlies. It's a gigantic jewelry store filled with mirrors - two of your favorite things. You were in hog heaven! You smiled and giggled the entire time!
I love how you love to snuggle when you're sleepy. I always like to smell that sweet, soft spot on the back of your neck. (Mmmm... fresh, clean baby!)
I love rocking you to sleep.
I love how every night, you fall asleep rubbing your Daddy's beard with one hand, and your left ear with the other.
I love how when we took you to the beach for the first time, you screamed bloody murder and crawled up your Daddy like a monkey.
I laughed when your Aunt Kasie was feeding you your bottle and you literally kicked your cousin out of the chair with those mule-like legs of yours. You actually do love him. I love how much you love him. It's so sweet (and a little gross) how you two like to try to share your paci. It's so sweet how he gives you kisses.
I love how you never care if people change your clothes, paint your nails, or draw on your face.
I love how you are not scared of any animals.
I love how you're not scared of the bath tub or the pool - but you're scared to death of the water hose and rain.
I love how you just babble all of time.
I love how you growl at people.
I love watching your face when you learn new things.
I love how you love everyone in the world, but you love your Daddy and me the most.
I love how you like to pull things out of boxes and bags, but you like to put them back too. (Hoping this keeps up. Maybe you'll be a good house keeper!)
I love how every time we turn on your hopping bunny rabbit, you always get this HUGE grin - and keep looking back at us like: "Are you watching this?! Can you BELIEVE what that rabbit is doing?!"
I love all of the times that I rocked you to sleep to "Hotel California" or "Piano Man." (You never liked the nursery rhymes.)
I love how excited you get when you see me at the end of the day.
I love how much you love me.

Before, I loved you because you were cute. I loved you because you were small and innocent. I loved you because you were mine to love.
But now... Oh, how I love you now! You found your spot in my heart, and you bury yourself in there a little deeper every day.
Out of all of the babies, in all of the whole, wide world: you're my very favorite. Given a choice, I would always pick you. I couldn't imagine any other baby for whom I'd want to trip over laundry baskets at 2am. (And it's not just because you're incredibly cute.)

With Love,
Your War-Buddy,
Mommy

Peyton's Grand Entrance (Part 2)

... I've learned you must snag a moment when it presents itself. I'm typing this out on my phone, so forgive the errors.

Also, I am going to be completely honest here. I want to keep an honest account for Peyton and for me. Don't continue to read if you don't REALLY want to know the truth. You've been warned.

Okay, where was I? Oh yes, 11am! 

Ben, my parents, and Ben's parents were all chilling out in my room. I was writing thank-you notes (if you haven't received one yet, yours was in this pile! I lost them shortly after this and am still on the search!) contemplating on if I would even need an epidural - so far, this was a breeze! The room was filled with chatter and laughter. Everything was hunky-dory until they broke my water. 

Right before the doctor walked back out, I asked her for a possible time frame. She told me that they didn't expect me to deliver until much later that night or early the next morning.

But, Peyton has a track record of doing things her own way. Her daddy jokingly guessed it months before: She was going to procrastinate until the last minute and then be in an incredible hurry... Just like her dear old Mom.

By lunch, I had stopped attempting anything to do with the thank you notes... And the laughter and chatter were flat out getting on my nerves. Every time I had a contraction, everyone would get so happy. Couldn't these people see I was in pain?! I didn't want to say anything though, because I had decided I was going to be tough. No screams, complaints, or the like from this girl. No sir-ee! I was going to be the toughest, most impressive woman to give birth anyone had ever seen!

So... I kicked them all out. I think Rhonda was about to anyway. And she was great - anything I needed she was there! She really was an angel! I cried a little when I told her I wasn't all that comfortable. She told me we still needed to wait another centimeter or two if I could before I could get the epidural. I was only around a 3 when they broke my water. BUT, she could get a some sort of pain medicine in an IV. I agreed. I had heard a lot of moms speak against this - but I needed it. I needed it more than I knew. (Apparently there is something to relaxing helping speed up te process.) As soon as she plugged me up, I felt it run through my whole body. I was asleep within minutes - and it was the most fabulous sleep that I had had since I found out that I was pregnant. I didn't feel any of the contractions! 

Soon though, they started in low - but they started to grow. It was almost like they were far away... A little painful - but I would just squeeze Ben's hand and fall back asleep when it was over. I was going to wait as long as possible. The medicine started to wear off though - and those gentle, far-away type contractions became fast, frequent, and intense. I decided to ask for the epidural.

*Okay - pause! Remember when I said that there were like five other couples that went up that morning? Yeah, well this is the part where that has something to do with me. All of those girls ended up needing to have C-sections... Which is major surgery. Do you know what major surgery requires? Anesthesiologists! Two Anesthesiologists in the whole joint that morning. Healthy mom and baby delivering vaginally - last on the list.

It felt like forever. My awesome sleep - turned into the place I go when I pass out. (I could hear everything... But time and space didn't really exist...) I REFUSED to open my eyes. I just knew if I opened my eyes two things would happen: I would see the clock - which would make it seem like it took even longer - and it would make it more real and the pain would get worse. (I never said I was logical.) My hand squeezes had turned to quiet moans. My quiet moans had turned into EXTREMELY loud petitions to Jesus to please make it stop - and asking Ben and the Nurse why the anesthesiologist wasn't coming to help me?!?!

*pause again: okay, so everyone has their  explanation as to what contractions feel like. I will say it is unlike any pain I had ever felt. It's nearly indescribable. The closest way that I have come up with describing it is that it feels like an earthquake in your hips.

My husband is fairly even keeled. Not much rattles him. But my constant crying and begging must have done a good job. He told Rhonda that somebody better get those guys, or he would - and he'd beat them up for the wait.

While Rhonda went to drag back the men with the drugs, Ben stayed with me. He was a champ. I couldn't have asked or wanted any better. He stayed with me and held my hand the entire time. Some women talk about how much they hate their husband in those moments, but I was incredibly clingy and needy. I had to have him right there an I needed to be able to touch him.  

Right before they got there - I heard myself saying. "I can't do this. I can't do this." Which sent my mind into a panic. I always heard that women said that right before they had their babies... Right before it's too late for happy drugs! I very possibly was about to go through my worst pregnancy nightmare: being induced and not getting an epi. (They say that induced contractions are more intense and painful than natural ones.) What had I done?!! There was no way to go back - and there was only one way to stop the pain: have the baby. Oh man, I was so dumb back at the beginning of the year. Really, no clue... And now I was stuck on a runaway train!

Blessed was the moment the meds arrived!!

I'm normally a pretty conservative woman. I had been worried about people seeing me naked. At that moment, I didn't care who saw what... And believe me - I'm sure they all got an eye-full. 

I finally had to open my eyes. They made me sit up. As soon as I did, I had the strangest sensation. I told them all "I can't do this - I need to push." To which everyone in the room said: don't push!!

I hugged Ben as they put the needle in - that part was so hard. Because of the giant needle, you ask? No - I never felt the needle. It was hard because the contractions hurt and I had to sit completely still! They taped my back and had me lay back down. Then the angel man with the drugs told me that they would work soon and that there was nothing to apologize for or be ashamed of for not being able to be the worlds quietest woman in labor.

I fell back asleep and it was awesome... All two minutes of it. Epidurals are a gift from God. I felt nothing. But I was exhausted. I felt like I had run a marathon! But it wasn't over yet - while I was resting the doctor came in and said "Okay looks like you're all ready to start pushing."

PUSHING?! How in the world would I have the energy to do that?!!

It came though - and pushing ended up being my favorite part of the whole deal.

They had to put in a catheter for a few moments to get the epidural to finish taking effect. (Also was a fear of mine. Also didn't hurt.) They turned the lights down and tore my bed apart. Ben was at one leg, Rhonda was at another, and the doctor was at my feet. They ended up having to turn my epidural down because I couldn't feel enough to know when to push. Even after they turned it down, I still felt good! We tried a few practice pushes - I must have been a little loopy because I kept telling them that my friend (she knows who she is) told me that you're just supposed to push like you're going to the bathroom. 

They had to put an oxygen mask on me and had to put a heart monitor in Peyton's head because her heart rate dropped a few times. Finally, I got the swing of things and some energy back and they started making final prep. I asked if I could keep pushing when I felt a contraction. They said sure - so I did. I must have been doing a decent job because when they turned back around it was "oh my" and hyper speed! 

It happened so fast. It was the biggest relief when she came out. I felt like I could breathe again... Granted I was like: "It's over? She's out? Already?

Peyton took her first breath at 4:19pm on October 29th.

(Only 5 hours after they broke my water!)

I had been worried about Ben watching. He watched the whole time. I didn't care and he still loves me. He was so amazed and excited. He cut the cord - and I didn't have to see any blood or guts! I cannot tell you how much I loved watching him. 25 five year olds on Christmas morning have nothing on Ben at that moment. 

I have to say, when I saw her I was impressed with myself. I had done it! (With a lot of prayer and a lot of help!) I made it through alive AND I gave birth to a decent sized baby! 7lbs 5oz 19 inches long... Not too shabby if I do say so myself. 

She was (and still is) the most beautiful little baby. No comparison. Mine's the best. Wouldn't trade her for a million boys, dollars, or cookies. 

... And I would totally, completely, unquestionably, and happily do it all over again. 

(For those of you still wondering what the grandparents were doing... There may or may not have been stalking nursery nurses and listening outside of the delivery room door...)

Peyton's Grand Entrance (Part 1)

This Saturday marks 5 months. The last few months have been indescribable, but totally worth it. I cannot believe that they have gone by so quickly… and yet so slowly. How in the world does THAT work?!

Any-who…

I figured that I would FINALLY write down Peyton’s big entrance.  (It's a long story, so I may end up having to split it up in two parts.) I mean, it’s been five months. Plus, I had a friend tell me that after a while, you start forgetting the first couple of months. I wasn’t sure if I could ever forget at the time, but you really do! I’m not sure what it is, but I’m so glad I was obsessed with taking pictures those first couple of weeks – I don’t remember hardly a bloomin’ thing.

The entire time I was pregnant, I was nervous. I was nervous about everything. But as time marched on, I grew mostly nervous about her impending arrival.
(That’s the thing about pregnancy… eventually, it ends.)

The bad part is, that everyone describes labor – and everyone describes it differently. But they all agree on one thing: You’ll know it when it happens.
Now, how is someone like me supposed to take that? I like to know EXACTLY how things will go. I like to know EXACTLY what to expect. I HAD NO CLUE. Thus, I was a mess. I wanted this to go ahead and happen, but I have this “thing” about pain… I don’t like it.

I had been having small contractions since around 20 weeks. (Apparently, the uterus needs to exercise too.) When the first of October rolled around, I found out that I had already started progressing… and rumor had it that I would spit my darling baby out within a week. Seeing as I was super-stressed, and working hard on our big fancy-shmancy meeting at work, I just KNEW I would have my baby soon! October 3rd was a fair guess, since baby’s sometimes have bad timing and that was the date of our shin-dig. I happily bee-bopped over to my boss and shared the news with the fella’s: This baby was going to be here any minute!!

I was about to wait a whole lotta minutes…

By the 14th of October, I was tired. I was crying constantly. Wouldn’t this baby EVER come out?! The suspense was killing me, I was sure of it. I asked my boss if he would mind if I started my leave a little early, and he was totally understanding. The next two weeks were those of a horror story. I sat at home, eating constantly, bouncing on my ball, timing contractions – all while crying non-stop.

That’s the thing about contractions: you can have a bunch; they can hurt a lot; and they can be getting you absolutely NO-WHERE.

Finally, the day came when I was over-due! I would be able to sign up for an induction. (Judge me if you will, but after a while – you just need that baby out!) I was all registered at the public hospital. I had been planning this for months! They were booked for the next week. No room for us. Not unless my stubborn, snuggly baby decided to come out on her own. BUT there was another option: the private hospital. Now, I had not wanted to go there. I figured it would be a little more expensive, and I still really wanted to save money. But, by this point, I was willing to take a tour of the hospital and talk with the nice people in billing.

I am so very glad I did!

It was wonderful! The delivery rooms, the nursery, the waiting room, and the recovery rooms where all on the same floor – and so close! The family waiting room was connected to the nursery by windows, so our parents would be able to see the baby as soon as they took her away to get cleaned up. Once we talked to Rhonda down in billing, it was set! I had fallen in love with the hospital and the staff – Peyton would be taking her first breaths in Mary Black!

I called my doctor Monday morning, and told them what I had decided. They had me come in and get some things together and ready – I would be induced the next morning at 6AM.

When Ben came home, he found me on the front steps crying my eyes out. I was a crazy mix of emotions. The worst part was that they actually expected me to sleep that night! How in the world would I sleep?! I think I got a total of 4 hours… if you stretched them REALLY far.

I showered, did my hair and make-up, and had to pee 500 million times. In fact, because of all of my “Just let me pee one more time.” ‘s, we were late! Only by like 10 minutes, but late we were! It was dark, foggy, and we got stuck behind a really slow, green truck – who kept popping his brakes at us. We finally made it. I held Ben’s hand as we walked into the building and talked about how weird it was to think that this was the last time we would just be a little family of 2. In a couple of days, we’d be walking out a family of 3.

As we walked in, the security guards joked with us that we were like the fifth couple that they had seen go up that morning. (I didn't realize how important this information would be to me later.)

They checked us in, put some bracelets on my arm, and I changed into my gown.

(Ben was my favorite, though. He was already pumped up, but they had told us that it would probably take a very long time. Trying to look ahead, he figured that he would do some homework... but he would need to take his ADD meds.... With the most sincere and calm look on his face he says: "I know it looks like I'm already excited on the outside, but it's no comparison to how I'm freaking out inside.")

Then we met with the most important man ever - the anesthesiologist. I immediately told him that I wanted any and all pain meds - as soon as possible. I'm a yellowed-belly chicken, after all. He assured me that they would take good care of me.

By eight o'clock, I had met my nurse, Rhonda, and gotten hooked up to the baby-ejecting juice. (There were a MILLION questions to answer!) I was so nervous to get hooked up to the IV, but it didn't hurt at all! (Needles are not my friend.) By eleven, I had made only a little progress. But hey, the contractions weren't that bad. In order to help things along, the doctor came in and broke my water. (Not enjoyable... maybe it's because I knew what they popper-thing looked like. Maybe it's because I felt like I had wet my pants. Either way, not my favorite part.)

And that's when things started to happen...

(Okay, baby's asleep. Got to go to bed while I can!)

 

Confessions

Well, it's been a while.

I've actually done two blog posts since Peyton was born - both on my labor and delivery story - but I never published them. I couldn't get the words right.

I haven't been able to get the words right in quite some time.

Oh they've been floating around in my head - but they were more of a jumbled, muddy mess than they had been.

I'll be honest: I've been tired. I've been confused. And for a while, I lost my joy.

My pregnancy and labor and delivery was THE PERFECT textbook pregnancy. I had no complications. I had a healthy, happy baby. I healed quickly. I didn't have postpartum depression - or even the 'baby blues.' Everyone was really amazed.

Yet, I let Satan tell me some lies... which I listened to and believed.

For some reason, I felt that my world suddenly had to be perfect. The nursery had to be perfect. I had to loose weight. I had to look pretty. I had to be just as good at my job as I was before. I had to be a perfect mom. I had to have a clean house. I had to... I had to... I had to...
Yeah, the list could go on. I could bore you all day with my insanities.

Maybe it stemmed from pride, maybe it stemmed from fear of change, maybe it stemmed from my need to control everything. I guess the why doesn't matter.

There's one problem: You CAN'T do all of those things. I CAN'T DO ALL OF THOSE THINGS.
I'm now convinced that people who say they can, are liars.

People raved over how much weight I had lost.
- I wasn't eating.

People raved over how much my baby loved her Daddy - and would rather him hold her than me.
- He was the main one taking care of her.

People raved over how much I was getting out and about.
- I didn't want anyone to see my house.

People raved over how I was just jumping back into work and getting there early and staying late.
- I was burying myself in it. I would go home and cry all over Ben and go to sleep.

Since people kept telling me how great I was doing, I must be doing great! Except that I wasn't.
I couldn't do all of those things - but I was trying. Thus, everything was falling apart.

I was drowning.

I hum.
A lot.
I hum old hymns. One in particular. I can never tell you the name of it - It only comes to me when I hum it. I cannot tell you the words - unless I'm singing it. The humming starts at random times. Usually when I'm happy. But I couldn't find the tune anymore, so...

I stopped humming.

I write.
A lot.
Though I may not be any good, I like to write. It honestly makes me happy. It helps me think and make sense of the world.
But I couldn't find the words anymore, so...

I stopped writing.

Blessedly, I have a good husband.
I have a sweet baby.
I have wonderful family.
I have a Great God.... and He was going to pull me back from the dark place I was headed, even if He had to break me to do it.

I couldn't do it anymore. So I did the only thing that I could do - I started praying.
I know that when you start praying, things happen.
I knew I needed some help. I also knew that sometimes healing is easy.
... and sometimes, it hurts.
I had gotten to the point where I didn't care. I just couldn't stay where I was.

God started speaking to me through Bible verses. One verse in particular kept popping up: Luke 22:31-32

I'm not Peter, so that was a little scary. But I was encouraged. I knew I had a fight - but I have Jesus on my side. I would (and will) pull through this - and be all the better for it!

Last weekend, I had my first real weekend with my baby. We stayed home alone. We rocked, played, prayed, and read some Beth Moore. I spent some quality time with my husband. I was able to clean my house a little, and I got some sleep. Not the toss and turn sleep - no, REAL sleep! I feel as if I'm awake! I can breathe again! God has reminded me (Again - It's easy for me to forget.) what is REALLY important in life.
He reminded me of my dreams and my purpose.

Life is not about having fancy clothes, perfect make-up, clean houses. It's not about 8-5 jobs. It's about people - and loving, enjoying, and helping them the way that God loves, enjoys, and helps us. It's about enjoying, appreciating, and being content the little things that He has blessed us with!

... and we have been blessed with so, so much.

So, there's the truth.
I covet your prayers.
Thanks for your time.

Now, I'm going to go watch some Dr. Who with my favorite husband and daughter.

Happy Saturday, everyone.

Things My Newborn Has Taught Me. (In A Week!)

As I sit here today, looking at my sweet baby, I realize just how much my life has changed in the last nine days. I think of all of the things that this tiny baby (with little life experience) has taught me in this short period of time. It really amazes me... there is no way that I could ever list it all - but here's a couple of things I've learned:

1. It is entirely possible to live on less than 3 hours of sleep at night... and function half-way decently. Two weeks ago, I would have told you that, for me, less than 10 hours of sleep a night was an evil that was never to be mentioned. I COULDN'T function on less than that unless there was a LOT of coffee involved. And two weeks ago, I would have been right. Now, 3.5 hours of sleep is something to rejoice over.

2. It is also possible to live on cold food. Because for some reason, even when you warm it up in the microwave, it still somehow sits in there until it gets cold again. (Which totally doesn't matter because you're so pre-occupied that you're not even paying attention to what you're shoveling into your mouth at warp speed.)

3. You DO have time to take a shower. It's just that it happens to be the same time that you could spend 'nuggling with your baby... Or staring at her like a crazed lunatic debating on whether or not she's breathing. The few times I have taken a shower, it has been at the gentle urging of those caring folks around me. 'Cause given a couple extra hours, I would be sporting dreads and have enough oil on my face to fry a batch of chicken large enough to feed all of Spartanburg County... and even the baby doesn't want that.

4. They're called BOO-BEES.  At one time, talking about or referencing boobs in front of certain people (or having people talk about or reference my boobs) would have been embarrassing and could be vulgar depending on the situation. Now, they only have one purpose: feed the baby. They do weird  and fascinating things - and can be quite interesting to talk about. I have amazed myself at how quickly I will whip those suckers out in front of people to make sure my girl gets her belly full. I will never think of them the same way again - and I feel like that's a good thing.
Bonus: Baby knows good and well who has the boobies - and who doesn't. It makes the playing field uneven - but who says I had to play this game fair?

5. You can still be a hypochondriac. It's just pointed in a different direction now. Now, I worry about catching something because I could give it to the baby... or I worry that something could be wrong with the baby and I not notice. (Ben, she has a BOOGER. SHE HAS A BOOGER. She has never had a booger before! Do you think she is getting a cold?! Should I call the pediatrician?! SHE COULD HAVE A FEVER AND NEEDS TO BE HOSPITALIZED!!) 

6. Things that you could be chill about with other people's babies - now freak the tar out of you.
Things like: boogers, breathing, sleeping too long, not sleeping long enough, not taking long enough to eat, what her cord stump looks like, giving the baby a bath, taking her temperature, to give a paci or not to give a paci, where she should sleep, etc, etc.

7. They told me I'd love him even more... and I do. Labor and Deliver really showed me how much my husband loves me - and how much I love him. And now I get the bonus of watching my big, burly, grown-up, rough-and-tough man take care of my itty-bitty little girl. I cannot explain the emotions of this. I would love to show the world just how special their relationship is already. Daddy might not have boobies, but she knows who her Daddy  is - and no one can calm her down like he can.

8. Just because someone else' baby liked it, doesn't mean that yours will. My nephew and Peyton are about 8 months apart. He liked to be a burrito baby. Naturally, I tried it with her. It took me a few days to realize... but nothing ticks her off more than having her arms pinned down. She WILL have her arms out and up by her face, if it's the last thing she ever does. He loved a swing; she screamed bloody murder in the swing. (But she thinks the glider is awesome!)

9. Big things come in small packages. Ben and I talked about how most infants we knew had these soft little kitten cries and how that couldn't be so bad to have to listen to... We just assumed that she would be the same. Well... we all know what assuming does. We have never met such a little baby with such big, strong lungs. (Or such a big, bad temper!) Kitten cries, my foot. This kid roars like a lion. Just TRY to ignore her. She's scared more than one visitor. Speaking of big things in small packages... this kid is explosive. Anyone want the diaper changing night-shift?

10. Speaking of diapers... people lie. People said that breastfed babies do not have stinky poo. I would like all of those people to come ask my husband about last night - and come change a few of her diapers.

11. No judging allowed. Yeah, my kid has a paci before she's supposed to... what of it? I have come to realize that yes, there are some bad mothers out there who really don't care about their kid. But for the most part, every child is different - and a lot of Moms are just trying to survive.

12. My belly button looks weird. ...and I have stretch marks, a weird tummy-tan, a jelly-like poochy belly with dark lines, and I really think I leak from every part of my body... and I'm not really worried about it. I always thought that I would care more - but I realized that my body just did something amazing and hard! And it needs time to heal. Plus the two people who I love the most don't seem to notice or care that I don't look exactly the same as I did before, so who cares what Hollywood does? I'm going to take my time to heal and worry about it later.

13. My brain is still missing. Granted, maybe it's because I'm sleep deprived and obsessed with this tiny person. I hear that I'll get most of it back one of these days... but some of it will never return.

14. You really cannot take enough pictures. Really, my baby is hilarious. She makes me best faces.

15. There are angels everywhere. Just when you start to lose faith in humanity... there are people who let you take a bath, a nap, bring you food, open the door, carry your car seat, ask how you're doing, supply you with clothes and baby soothing items, remind you how important what you're doing is, tell you that you're doing a great job, and that your baby is beautiful. For these people I will be forever thankful - and you can bet I've prayed blessings upon them all.