September 8, 2010, part I

As we near the one-year mark for Quinn’s birthday, on September 9, we can’t help but look back on our brief memories of her, so I’m publishing some of my early writing, with editing to make it more readable.

When I was pregnant with Quinn, Jason and I had our usual ongoing discussion about labor and delivery. With the other three children, I was medically induced into labor with IV Pitocin, always after my due date and with the approval of my doctor, but with this baby, I really, really wanted the experience of my body going into labor on its own. I half-joked that it was Jason’s paranoid belief that we would either schedule an induction, or have a baby by the side of the road on the way to the hospital. I was nervous about not being able to note my own labor, or calling a false alarm and mistaking normal pregnancy twinges for labor pains. Furthermore, I was distrustful of my body actually being able to put itself into labor, and wanted to prove a point to myself!

Is This the Real Thing?

On Wednesday afternoon around 3:00, I started having contractions that felt like more intense Braxton Hicks. I charted them to help me think more clearly. The kids really started to act up, and they were getting on my nerves! I knew Jason’s target time to be finished spraying in McCullough, about a 10-15-minute drive by car, and longer by tractor, so I waited to call him since I didn’t want to sound a false alarm and cause him precious time in the field. Ruth was forty-five minutes away in Brewton, too, and I didn’t want her to have to come home early from work for nothing. I wasn’t hungry, and felt too nervous and excited to eat, but the family needed to be fed. I made a very simple meal of rice and beans. By the time we sat down, around 5:00, I was able to eat a little—thinking if it was real labor, I didn’t know how long it could take and didn’t want to be starving in between contractions! Jason kept rechecking to my timed list on the wipe-off board, measuring the intervals between my contractions. He noted the continual, gradual increase in frequency. He was in GO mode and was nervous himself! He took a shower, we finished packing the kids’ stuff (he stuck their whole toothbrush holder in with their things), and then he took them down to his parents’ house for the night. I wasn’t feeling at all social, and he gave me the option of staying behind. I was so grateful. When he came back, I decided to escape reality in a book, and sank into the green chair for two hours. The contractions slowed.

I told Jason it was time to go for a walk! The first really big contraction hit as we were walking up the hill beside his parents’ house. The contractions upped in frequency, but not in pain. The first one that made me stop and bend over happened at the end of the lane, a mile away. They were coming exactly three minutes apart, but were very bearable. Since we live a little over an hour away from our delivery hospital, we decided it was time to go! We got our things ready. Ever careful with vehicles, Jason put a garbage bag and a towel over my seat in case my water broke on the way. We left, and called our parents. Of course, the contractions slowed to every eight minutes while he was driving, but we knew we could walk in Pensacola! We walked for an hour in the parking lot at Baptist, until it wasn’t fun anymore for me. My contractions were every two minutes, and my back was aching, whether from contractions or walking or both, I didn’t know.

We entered through the Emergency Department, since it was midnight and it was the only door open. I tried not to smile, so people would believe I was really in labor. I felt stupid being pushed in a wheelchair up to Labor and Delivery. Even when the L&D nurses looked up, not expecting me, I felt goofy, grinning and excited, but supposed to be in labor. I was wheeled into Room 2, and Shannon introduced herself to me as my nurse.

After I got changed into a gown and seated in the bed, she checked my cervix. I was between 5 and 6 centimeters dilated! She sang, “We’re gonna have a baby!” and said I wasn’t going to leave the hospital with the baby still inside. My body was doing it! I was in real labor, and had figured it out. I felt vindicated, relieved, celebratory. We were so excited to finally meet our baby, Quinn.

Dirt

When your Daddy is a farmer and has to fix a part on a tractor, grain drill, or disk, you beg to go to work with him. When your Mommy is grumpy and needs a break at the same time, she will look at your Daddy and do something funny with her eyebrows. It will work almost every time.

When you come home from school on a Friday afternoon and your Mommy discovers you have a fever, and then your sister gets a fever too, your Mommy will be sad at having to miss a wedding that night. You were going to have to take a bath and get all dressed up. She will also be sad about having to miss her date with Daddy the next night. You were going to play at a friend's house, and you are very sad too. And then your Mommy will say that it's time to make pig cookies again, and that she is glad she can take care of you. But she will fuss about the crumbs on the floor.


Cute Pig Cookies

1 c. butter or margarine, softened (I use part butter and part Crisco)
1 1/2 c. sugar
2 eggs
1 c. sour cream
1 t. vanilla
3 c. all-purpose flour
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt

Frosting:
1/2 c. butter, melted
4 c. powdered sugar
2 t. vanilla
6 T. milk
3-4 drops red food coloring

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, sour cream and vanilla; mix well. Combine dry ingredients; add to creamed mixture and mix well. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets. Bake at 375 for 10-12 minutes or until edges are lightly browned. Cool.

Decorate cookies with frosting, pink sugar wafer cookies, halved large marshmallows and Reese's candy bar sprinkles or whatever you can find at the store.

Oink away.

It's Time

Three weeks ago, we found out we're having a boy! He looks healthy so far, but I'm having a hard time simply believing and hoping that everything will turn out according to the way I want. I want this baby to make it to my due date alive, survive the labor and delivery process, and be totally healthy and normal, where my worst problems might be colic or regurgitation issues or a bit of jaundice, but I know that I'm not guaranteed anything. I have a more in-depth ultrasound scheduled for next week with a perinatologist. My regular OB assures me that although this pregnancy is technically considered high-risk, he is treating me as a low-risk patient with the exception of referring to Dr. Maher, a consult which I requested.

When our 17-week ultrasound showed male anatomy, my heart sank. I had hoped so much for a little girl to step into the empty nursery that Quinn wasn't able to use, to wear her special clothes and to use the girly things I had made and bought for her. In a bizarre sort of way, I thought having another girl would keep me from having to sort the baby room, keep me from going through memories that I didn't want to face, and allow me to deny how great a loss we have.

Our gigantic church yard sale is coming up next month, and with that in mind, something clicked inside me. Without a lot of forethought, I walked into Quinn's room, opened up drawers and started removing all the baby girl things. Pretty onesies, pink sleepers, cute pacifiers, hair bows, tights--all on the floor. I opened her wardrobe doors, and the pink hangers went flying. I soon called Helen to help me, and we admired all the little clothes that she had worn as a baby. Somehow I was able to handle all those precious things without sitting in a puddle of tears. I had angry moments and sad moments, but overall it felt good.

And then I saw this:Quinn's sweet, sweet dress that my mother-in-law made for her. Ruth had picked out the fabric, and I chose the cut, smocking pattern and colors of embroidery floss. She used antique buttons from my stash to close the back of the dress. It was and is precious, and it's not going anywhere.
At the MOPS Convention in Nashville, I had the privilege of hearing Mary Beth Chapman speak about the loss of her five-year-old daughter. Those were tender moments, but believe me, I saved my ugly cry for meeting her at the book signing. Oh yes. She said that her grief had been like a dark forest that she didn't want to leave, for fear of leaving Maria behind. God showed her that all around the forest was a beautiful meadow of flowers, and that Maria wasn't in the forest, but in the light, joy-filled meadow. Leaving her intense darkness behind was actually a step toward her daughter. She also said that you never get OVER it, but you get THROUGH it.

Here's the thing: Heaven is real, and Quinn is there with Jesus. She is not living in my memories. She actually is alive in Heaven, right now. As someone told the Chapmans, my future with her is definitely going to be longer than my past with her! It's those truths and the grace of God that help me move forward in hope. Knowledge of an eternity in Heaven helps my situation fall into perspective.

So I do wait in hope for this new baby boy, with the confidence that God's grace and compassion are perfectly sufficient for me in any situation. (And we're still stuck on the name!)

Looks Who is in First Grade!

Owen was so excited to start school this year, and he is still excited after the first week and a half. He started his first day right with a pancake (from the freezer.) This mama is not in the habit of getting up earlier than 6 am to fix fresh-from-scratch pancakes for her darlings! I did put one candle in it though.
New uniform pants, new school supplies, new box of Kleenex and roll of paper towels! (That is NOT toilet paper in the Winn Dixie bag.)
New teacher, new classroom, new curriculum! We pray this is another great school year for Owen.

Jack and the Birthday

Whoa Nelly! We've been so busy this summer I forgot all about posting pictures from Jack's third birthday--way back in June. That little man has been such a joy for us, and he has also offered his share of challenges. He brings a lot of humor to our family, both the wacky physical feat kind and the complete sentence variety. He had a great year of being 2, and it was hard to let him grow older.

Jack loves cows, second only to roosters. I don't know why. He had been insisting on a brown cow cake for months in advance, and since I had never baked him our family's traditional lamb cake, I thought the two were close enough for a go.Although maybe not. But at least it was eaten quickly. And at least there were plenty of hay bales to distract the naked eye. Poor anatomically incorrect Jersey cow.Daddy gave him a boost for the candle blow-out,and continued to hold him for the obligatory first bite of lamb-cow cake.But cousins are really what make birthday parties fun! As are empty Elmo backpacks borrowed from brothers.

A few recent and/or odd Jack-quotes:

"Good morning, noodles!!!" (running into the kitchen and seeing fresh pasta hanging from a drying rack)

"Old MacDonald's taking a shower." (declarative on the Atmore McDonald's indoor waterwall)

"Mama is a lady...'cause she gives us treats."

(praying) "And Jesus, this is my pedometer I wear when I'm picking up toys. It tells me what to do. That's what it do's. Yeah."

Helen's Going to Sleep Poem

Our Weber family reunion was held at Berea College in Kentucky in June. It was a beautiful setting, a cute town and perfect weather, a lovely frame for connecting with family and eating famously good Weber-prepared food. The college put the whole reunion in the Elizabeth Rogers Hall for the weekend, and our family bedded down as comfortably as possible in our assigned dorm room for the night. We tucked the kids into floor nests under the high loft-style bunk beds and said good night, and we all went to bed at the same time so the kids wouldn't be frightened about sleeping alone in such an unfamiliar setting.

Owen zonked out immediately, as normal. Jack and Helen whispered and giggled with each other for a long time. Eventually Jack fell asleep, but Helen continued to talk very softly and quickly to herself until she finally drifted off to her dreams.

The next morning, I asked her what she had been saying. She rattled it off to me, so quickly she had to repeat it several times until I understood:

"I want to sleep like this for a while.
I want to close my cute little eyes.
Please let me breathe whenever I want to.
And sometimes I have to swallow spit."

Rain

Wow. This is embarrassing! This poor blog has certainly not been a priority lately. I'm still thinking of posts, finding I have a lot to say, but nothing to say. I want to write things perfectly, but can't figure out the right words. Some of my thoughts are worthwhile, but most of them are forgettable.

I did write something lately, requested by Jason's uncle Lloyd, to be read at our Kauffman reunion at Bethel Camp in Kentucky. Other than having to publicly read something I wrote, I had a great time catching up with uncles, aunts and cousins, meeting their kids and eating fabulous food from the camp kitchen. Here it is:

Wednesday I was outside, huge Tupperware bowl at my feet, picking blueberries as fast as I could. Suddenly storm clouds covered the sun, thunder sounded in the distance and a cold wind whipped through the trees. The blueberries danced out of reach. I grabbed onto leaves, fiercely determined to steady the waving branches, angry at the timing of the weather and angry at the thought of losing blueberries to yet another rainless storm.

It had been so dry for so long. When our regional summer weather pattern of localized pop-up afternoon thunderstorms had begun, it was our fields, our property, that got missed. Hope would arrive in the shape of cumulonimbus clouds, but it was others around who reported their relieved joy, measured quantifiably in tenths of inches. After a time, I felt my heart hardening each time the sky darkened. Certainly we had been praying for rain. Certainly it seemed our request fell on uncaring ears. "God, have you forgotten us?!" I had to ask, knowing the truth, but feeling something different. I wanted to leave when the storms blew up. I wanted to drive somewhere, anywhere, so I wouldn't have to be home when the clouds left our property rainless.

We want to protect ourselves against physical disaster, and to some extent we can. We wear seatbelts. We eat our vegetables. We own insurance policies, for crying out loud. But if only there were some kind of emotional insurance, to protect our hearts from being damaged or shattered. We live to please God. We make choices to honor Him. We expect His blessings, but we don't expect His blessings to come in a package of pain. Ironically, James says, "Consider it pure joy...whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

The evening of the blueberry picking did end in rain. I was thankful, but in a begrudging sort of way. I felt like the spoiled child who had pitched a fit, manipulated parents, gotten what she wanted and then not enjoyed the undeserved result.

I felt guilty because I had been refusing the trial of drought. Instead of embracing God through my fear and receiving joy in His truths, I was choosing bitterness and hardheartedness.

The truth is, that even if the farm dries up and all is lost, God will still be in control. He will still be available. His presence is far more important than our present circumstances, though He cares about the details of our lives. The far greater tragedy would be success on the farm and loss of access to Him.

_____

We traveled to northern Indiana, my home area, after our reunion. While we were there, it rained buckets back home, so much so that Jason and all his farmer friends joked that we should have left a long time ago.

When I wrote this, there was more than weather on my mind. We are expecting another baby, due January 6th! While we are incredibly excited about the pregnancy, we are also scared out of our minds that it will once again end with no baby in our arms. I wish there were some way to protect our hearts from being smashed to bits. But as one of Jason's cousins articulated, "It's the risk you take by choosing to love."

One thing of which I am particularly fearful is that people might think we have moved on from our loss, and this is our replacement for Quinn, and that everything is neat and tidy in our emotional lives by now. Just the thought of that makes me so angry, and it's one reason I've delayed announcing my pregnancy. So please pray for us as we choose to love this baby, no matter what the outcome may be. We are choosing to trust God, our perfect Father, who has perfect knowledge and perfect love for us.