Our family is greatful to you. Everyone that prayed, brought meals, provided gifts of baby clothes, diapers, wipes, etc., and those that kept our children, believing it would be for two nights, and keeping them nearly a week instead.
Without the support of a family like ours, and the grace of God, it is easy to see how people can fall into the depths of dispair and give themselves over to hoplessness.
We, as always, have much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving Holiday. Specifically we are thankful for the local body of Christ, comeing together and serving our needs physically and spiritually. We are thankful for our newest son's health, and for the wisdom provided to doctors and nurses working with our baby. We are thankful for the kind, gentle nature of the Nurses in the NICU. We are thankful that the price of gas has gone down, as Daddy made many trips back and forth. We are thankful for a generous and selfless grandmother that flew, last minute, half way accross the continent to help us out at home. We are thankful for another selfless grandmother and aunt that hosted Thanksgiving for the family so that our 'zoo' wouldn't have far to travel for festivities.
God is good in so many ways. That He touches people's hearts to serve one another without selfish ambition is a blessing. It has taken my husband and myself a while to accept this kind of gift graciously. We have begrudgingly accepted help in the past. We moved on to sheepishly asking for help when it seemed there was no way we could do it ourselves. We have since received the blessing of helping others with the attitude of love and kindness, because we wanted to serve Jesus Christ and see God receive glory. It is easier now to set aside pride, and allow God's glory to shine however He sees fit. Not easy - easier. Pride still creeps in, whispering that even the bible says to 'stand on your own two feet.' Oh, the king of Pride and father of Lies does know how to twist God's own words!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Home at Last
Benjamin Timothy entered the world with dramatic flair November 17th, 3:29 pm, weighing 7 lbs 8 oz and measuring 19 in. long.
He managed to get the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck a couple of times. Some how, that umbilical cord was a freakishly long specimen. I have never heard of any statistics in regards to the length of an umbilical cord. I didn't know it was important or interesting for any reason. Apparently, it is.
With each contraction during hard labor, the umbilical cord was pinched off and Benjamin wasn't getting any oxygen. His heart rate would fall significantly during the contraction while the looped umbilical cord was strangling him. You know how we always hear, "Don't push yet! Wait!", this time the doctor said, "I know you aren't fully dilated yet, but we have to get this baby out, so start pushing." I did, everyone helped. Every nurse on the floor that wasn't busy was in the room, and Benjamin finally made is entrance. Once he was out, umbilical cord removed, he let out a lusty cry and seemed to be fine. Apgar scores were great, his color was great. Everything was great. Then, before he was 24 hours old, he was yellow. No wet diapers at all.
The local hospital doesn't have the resources to examine all the possibilities, so they call a transport team. Just before the transport team is leaving for a NICU in another city, Benjamin eliminates his entire bladder. All over the place.
His respiration was an issue while he was being given a feeding tube, and he vomited everything that went down the tube. Now we have respiratory issues along with digestive issues.
The respiratory issues also resolved themselves. He went to the NICU anyway. We spent 5 days there. The current diagnosis is 'We don't know'. We'll check up in six months to make sure the entire digestive system is in working order. Aside from that, we are working on fattening the little man up. He seems agreeable to this plan.
He managed to get the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck a couple of times. Some how, that umbilical cord was a freakishly long specimen. I have never heard of any statistics in regards to the length of an umbilical cord. I didn't know it was important or interesting for any reason. Apparently, it is.
With each contraction during hard labor, the umbilical cord was pinched off and Benjamin wasn't getting any oxygen. His heart rate would fall significantly during the contraction while the looped umbilical cord was strangling him. You know how we always hear, "Don't push yet! Wait!", this time the doctor said, "I know you aren't fully dilated yet, but we have to get this baby out, so start pushing." I did, everyone helped. Every nurse on the floor that wasn't busy was in the room, and Benjamin finally made is entrance. Once he was out, umbilical cord removed, he let out a lusty cry and seemed to be fine. Apgar scores were great, his color was great. Everything was great. Then, before he was 24 hours old, he was yellow. No wet diapers at all.
The local hospital doesn't have the resources to examine all the possibilities, so they call a transport team. Just before the transport team is leaving for a NICU in another city, Benjamin eliminates his entire bladder. All over the place.
His respiration was an issue while he was being given a feeding tube, and he vomited everything that went down the tube. Now we have respiratory issues along with digestive issues.
The respiratory issues also resolved themselves. He went to the NICU anyway. We spent 5 days there. The current diagnosis is 'We don't know'. We'll check up in six months to make sure the entire digestive system is in working order. Aside from that, we are working on fattening the little man up. He seems agreeable to this plan.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Fat Chick
Yep. I'm a fat chick. Rather a large girl. That's me.
People have been kind, "Oh, you're not fat!" "I've seen fat, that's not you!". Thank you dear friends. I feel so good about myself for a few minutes when you say those things. Then I climb a flight of stairs, or catch a glimpse of myself in a window reflection, or actually notice how large my underpants are when folding the laundry.
I confessed to someone recently why I am fat. I hadn't planned on sharing that with anyone. Ever. It seemed really stupid. It still does.
The fact is, I am fat now, and I don't want to be anymore. I want to be healthy. I want to be confident that no matter where I find myself, I will always fit entirely on the chair, that the arms won't get stuck on my hips and cause embarrassment when I try to get up. I want to be able to use the public restroom without the stall door brushing my belly fat! I don't want to have to turn sideways when going through a turnstile at the State Fair.
I want to practice soccer drills with my kids and ride a bicycle more than half a block!
There was a time when walking, running, lifting weights at the 'Y', and swimming - in a swimsuit - were fun. Now those things all sound like horrifying punishments, meant to humiliate.
Okay. Here it is. Do I really want anyone on earth to be able to read this? If I never lose all of the weight, will this haunt me forever? Sigh. Okay God. I AM listening, I just don't like it. I don't really want to do it. I'm doing it. I'M DOING IT!
It's because men are stupid. Gee whiz. HE notices everything. Men are not entirely stupid, but some of them, at some point have done something stupid.
In my brief history, more than one adult, married, and seemingly 'Godly' man has proven himself to be more than stupid. As a teen and young adult, these men have pressed upon me their lustful desires. Now, they did not actually touch me or force me to do anything. They made their thoughts plain, and allowed me to say 'no way!', but without any consequence on their part. Who was I going to tell? Who would believe me? Who would care as long as nothing 'actually happened'?
Here I am, wondering what it is I am doing to invite this behavior. Am I walking a particular way? Is it my clothing? (my parents have always encouraged modest dress, and, honestly, I don't feel comfortable in immodest clothing anyway!) Do I look at people in a way that is inviting? Is there some smoldering, come-hither look that I am completely unaware of shooting from my eyes? What could it possibly be?
Do I have an aura of helplessness? Of neediness? Do I laugh to readily at a joke? Is it wrong to shoot out a joke of my own? Do I listen too well? Not well enough? Am I putting myself in these situations?
I though so, for a long time I thought so.
Then, I go married. I thought "I don't need to encourage men to notice my physically any more, so I'll put on weight. That'll stop their problems. Men aren't attracted to heavy women!" So it began. Then it continued. What began as a defense became a habit. A way of life. An issue all on it's own. Guess what I found out after a divorce. There ARE men out there who like fat women. Or they don't care what shape the woman is. Certain kinds of men are out there. Some how, I am a complete loser magnet.
I found one that isn't a loser. He's great. He's supportive of me and loves me. I'll tell more about him later.
I know now that the shape of my body isn't going to stop a stupid man from being stupid.
I am headed back to the 'Y'!
People have been kind, "Oh, you're not fat!" "I've seen fat, that's not you!". Thank you dear friends. I feel so good about myself for a few minutes when you say those things. Then I climb a flight of stairs, or catch a glimpse of myself in a window reflection, or actually notice how large my underpants are when folding the laundry.
I confessed to someone recently why I am fat. I hadn't planned on sharing that with anyone. Ever. It seemed really stupid. It still does.
The fact is, I am fat now, and I don't want to be anymore. I want to be healthy. I want to be confident that no matter where I find myself, I will always fit entirely on the chair, that the arms won't get stuck on my hips and cause embarrassment when I try to get up. I want to be able to use the public restroom without the stall door brushing my belly fat! I don't want to have to turn sideways when going through a turnstile at the State Fair.
I want to practice soccer drills with my kids and ride a bicycle more than half a block!
There was a time when walking, running, lifting weights at the 'Y', and swimming - in a swimsuit - were fun. Now those things all sound like horrifying punishments, meant to humiliate.
Okay. Here it is. Do I really want anyone on earth to be able to read this? If I never lose all of the weight, will this haunt me forever? Sigh. Okay God. I AM listening, I just don't like it. I don't really want to do it. I'm doing it. I'M DOING IT!
It's because men are stupid. Gee whiz. HE notices everything. Men are not entirely stupid, but some of them, at some point have done something stupid.
In my brief history, more than one adult, married, and seemingly 'Godly' man has proven himself to be more than stupid. As a teen and young adult, these men have pressed upon me their lustful desires. Now, they did not actually touch me or force me to do anything. They made their thoughts plain, and allowed me to say 'no way!', but without any consequence on their part. Who was I going to tell? Who would believe me? Who would care as long as nothing 'actually happened'?
Here I am, wondering what it is I am doing to invite this behavior. Am I walking a particular way? Is it my clothing? (my parents have always encouraged modest dress, and, honestly, I don't feel comfortable in immodest clothing anyway!) Do I look at people in a way that is inviting? Is there some smoldering, come-hither look that I am completely unaware of shooting from my eyes? What could it possibly be?
Do I have an aura of helplessness? Of neediness? Do I laugh to readily at a joke? Is it wrong to shoot out a joke of my own? Do I listen too well? Not well enough? Am I putting myself in these situations?
I though so, for a long time I thought so.
Then, I go married. I thought "I don't need to encourage men to notice my physically any more, so I'll put on weight. That'll stop their problems. Men aren't attracted to heavy women!" So it began. Then it continued. What began as a defense became a habit. A way of life. An issue all on it's own. Guess what I found out after a divorce. There ARE men out there who like fat women. Or they don't care what shape the woman is. Certain kinds of men are out there. Some how, I am a complete loser magnet.
I found one that isn't a loser. He's great. He's supportive of me and loves me. I'll tell more about him later.
I know now that the shape of my body isn't going to stop a stupid man from being stupid.
I am headed back to the 'Y'!
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