Rita Marie's Birth Story

Birth story time! I am currently reminding myself that you, dear reader, choose to read this. I'm not forcing you, therefore, I can be as detailed as I darn well please!

Trigger warnings: those with fertility struggles, I would beg you to first visit some of my other posts about what we have in common before reading this. Also, I will probably talk about poop, blood, pain, and midwives. Fair warning.

A good friend recently pointed out that in college I made it clear I wanted a natural pain medicine-free birth. It has always been a goal, probably steeped in pride, but a goal nonetheless. My two major fears about childbirth were Pitocin (more painful and higher risk factor for a C-Section), and tearing. One happened, the other didn't, but I realize now that the fear of those was just as futile as the fear of pain that I scoffed at for so many years.

My blood pressure has always been somewhere around 90 / 60, yet my 39 week appointment found my blood pressure to be 135 over 80. Being that it was high for me, my midwife decided to test my blood, my urine, and have me collect my urine for a full 24 hours or to test that. Blood and quick urine test came back fine, so I thought I was in the clear. We were facing the Labor Day weekend and the first day of school on Tuesday: I felt relieved. I desired to spend some time with my kids at school before this baby arrived. 

Tuesday morning came around and I got an email notification reporting my 24 hour urine collection results: two times higher than the highest allowable amount of protein in the urine. I charged off to school upset that I could expect a call about needing to be induced. Around 10 a.m., after much scurrying and getting ready for my substitute, my Midwife called and told me to come in. Always the rebel, I didn't actually leave school until 12:30, going home to have lunch with my husband by ourselves for the last time.

I had adrenalin pumping through my veins, my hands shifting too quickly and my breath harder to catch. We drove, rather too quickly, to the hospital to meet the midwife and check "my situation," suitcase in hand.

First picture of Rita.

At this point I was only three days away from my due date, so I bowed my head to the knowledge that they would follow through with the threat of induction. The midwife checked, saw that I was one centimeter dilated and began the most painful procedure of the whole ordeal: stripping the membranes. I say it was most painful because the pain was unexpected. You know labor is supposed to hurt, but I never imagined what that would be like. In a word, #$&+$*¥€. However, I did not scream out in pain and I started practicing my breathing in anticipation of what I was facing the next 24 hours. I made it.

Next, we had to go to the health food store to get the yucky castor oil birth cocktail, which I mixed into a crazy juice solution to accompany our last dinner together pre-hospital. My husband, Kevin, was so calm during this entire ordeal, something I desperately needed as I was facing the potential of both my biggest fears. I repeat, the fear of childbirth had nothing to do with the pain of normal childbirth. I knew I could handle normal pain, and I really think that kind of attitude is necessary when entering labor. It was the introduction of Pitocin or tearing that I stressed over.

We had this to look forward to.

Kevin and I checked into the hospital, which is really more like a hotel at this point, where the midwife planned to insert a Foley balloon to mechanically dilate me overnight. Fortunately or unfortunately, during the procedure of putting the Foley balloon in, my water broke. The sweet Midwife said she was nowhere near the actual water membrane, so it must have been ready to go anyway. Yay! Not officially an induction! I might be able to go without this stupid Pitocin after all.

The running theme that I should say every other sentence is that the nurses at this hospital were to die for! They were friendly, kind, not shy about nasty bodily functions, and always helpful. Just imagine I inserted that comment after every paragraph and we might approach the necessary amount of praise for these fine women.

I woke up around midnight with contractions that prevented me from sleeping and waited until 1:30 before waking up Kevin. We walked around the hallways, and indulged my intense urge to watch Prince of Egypt. These contractions were definitely active labor, and I could finally feel pain after what felt like months of painless Braxton Hicks. We were getting somewhere and I was going to get to meet my little one! 

Around 4 in the morning, I felt as if either I had gotten used to the pain or the pain has lessened because I was able to lay down and fall asleep until about 6:30. The Midwife returned at that point and had to have The Conversation with us. It was time for Pitocin. Downtrodden, I agreed, ate my breakfast, and we hooked me up at 8 a.m.

In order to prevent babies' hearts from freaking out, the procedure with Pitocin is to administer two units to start and increase it by two units every half an hour as long as the baby is healthy. This pattern worked for me and we got to eight units after about an hour. The contractions were much more intense, but my breathing, ball sitting, walking, and dancing with Kevin was helping me hold off more fear of pain. It's the fear that will get you, ladies. 

I'll soon post my tips for accomplishing natural labor, so I'll hold off on sharing that here. 

At some point I stopped being quite so conscious of what was going on. I know my sister visited around 10, I know my parents arrived around that time also, I remember getting really irritated at everything at some point as well. They eventually bumped the Pitocin up to 10 and later 12 (the maximum dose), because I wasn't "at the huffing and puffing stage," like they wanted me to be. It turns out I was in the "huffing and puffing" stage, I just didn't look like it. 

My amazing husband was with me the entire time, asking my mom for a quick break at some point after several hours of me leaning on him with all my body weight. I am so proud of his amazing feat of being with me during this whole interlude, as he has vasovagal nerve issues. He's such a champion! 

I further slipped into an subconscious (?) state, and I had to move to the bed because of the exhaustion. I literally fell asleep in between contractions from about 1 until Rita Marie arrived. Who knew it was possible to take multiple ninety second naps during labor? That should be proof that you get breaks between the painful contractions.

The Midwife told us at 8 a.m. that this labor would probably be between 12 and 20 hours, so I preserved my energy. Little did we know, I was almost fully dilated. Our daughter's head head plugged up the previously broken water spot, creating a new water balloon that the midwife busted. As soon as she took care of that, transition hit. Mamas, this is when you know you have made it, this is when you know you're facing as much physical pain as you will ever face in this season. You're almost there!

I was so delirious. The woman who gave us the tour of the hospital many months ago, a head nurse of some sort, walked in. I immediately associated her with the suggestion she made in the tour of using nitrous. I said hello to her and, "I might not be opposed to nitrous right now." The midwife suggested we wait for two more contractions before talking about nitrous, so she could check me again. Apparently she took him outside and asked him what he thought I would really want at this stage. He said that he knew I really wanted an all natural labor, but that he'd check with me. 

The Midwife checked my dilation and it was time to begin pushing. Per my over-researching about how not to tear, I got in the hands and knees position on the bed. Imagine being on your knees facing a Sleep Number bed that has been jacked up into the L position. I had my chin and my forearms resting on the top of the mattress between contractions. While in that position, again completely delirious but ready to meet our daughter, Kevin asked me about the nitrous. I told him I had gotten this far without any pain meds and that I would do the rest of it without them as well.

I pushed like that for at least a half an hour, not being able to see or feel any progress, but hearing multiple lamentations of praise for the great job I was doing. I started to disbelieve my supporters. My mom had pushed for 4 hours with me, so I was assuming it might take somewhere close to that for little Rita Marie.

That's when they turned me around and I got in a seated position. Someone suggested the mirror, which kind of grossed me out, but I said yes. Best decision of the day! It allowed me to see my progress. It allowed my athletic mentality to start to see the Finish Line. I could watch my progress, and feel my daughter's head (so squishy). This position is also where I started to feel that overwhelming pushing urge. You will never believe it until you feel it yourself, but it is as if someone else is making you push. And this is crazy and gross, but it feels so good!

I must have known she was coming soon because some of the few words I spared energy for were, "I need to get this bra and dress off because I want to do skin to skin with her." They cut the dress off of me and a new contraction began. I had my eyes closed. My second push of that contraction brought Rita Marie into the room. The Midwife called out to me to reach down and grab my daughter. The most clear memory of joy is associated with how warm and wet her tiny little fragile body was on my chest.

The eight hours of labor we're far shorter than the medical team expected them to be. Again, as I said they kept increasing the Pitocin because I wasn't showing enough pain. It turns out I was hiding too much of it. However I would do it again like that in a heartbeat, going through as much pain as I did, just to be able to meet her as quickly as I did. I did not tear and I turned out to actually like the Pitocin because of that shorter labor time. Perspective is everything.

As soon as I pulled her up onto my chest I emerged from my subconsciousness and yelled out, "oh my gosh! Happy birthday! I love you, my darling!" Kevin said the whole room laughed and cried at my outburst, because I hadn't really said anything for several hours. It was as if a new woman was there on the bed. That's how I felt, also.

Finally, I looked over at Kevin and said, "we did it!" We thanked God, kissed each other, and thanked each other. My dad has always said God is in the room for a few moments during a child's birth. My mom suggests it's much longer than a few moments. I say I still haven't felt His Presence leave us. 

Beget Some Joy

I made it through 3 hours of the first day of school before driving to the hospital.

While awaiting our tiny blessing, my husband and I made many predictions about whence she would arrive. I assumed she would arrive in mid-September, partially out of the hopes that I would spend more time with my school kiddos before holding my personal, biological kiddo. My husband, as he often does, guessed it spot on. September 6, 2017, Rita Marie joined us on the outside!

One must spend only a few moments with most women on the topic of labor, delivery, and general motherhood before one hears the battle stories. Parents are the modern warriors, it seems, traversing parts unknown to raise their children and facing all number of dragons and scars.

Labor and delivery seems to be the focus of several women as the first prolonged peak of suffering on the path to parenthood. However, I’ve learned differently. Wanting, praying for, waiting for, and hoping for a child that I didn’t know would arrive was far more stinging than labor.

Who among us would disagree that suffering begets joy? The harder we work to reach that one student, the more cheer when we see the spark in their understanding. The more often we sweat it out at the gym or on the trails, the more confidence we build in the fruit of our actions. And the more a student struggles to learn, the greater the reward when their perseverance pays off.

I found that paradox to be true throughout my time growing my daughter on the inside: every pregnancy ailment was a step toward meeting her. I offered it up for her and my husband as we prepared to be her parents, just as I did during labor. Afterall, once I met her and held her in my arms, how could I complain of pain or suffering. The joy had come, as it always does on the other side of struggle. I choose to attend to that.

Response to "Meantime"

My lovely cousin wrote to me in response to my post about what to do in the meantime. This is Love. Enjoy:

I've been brainstorming "meantime" things since I first read, so here goes:


1. Distractions - find as many as you can. Fill up your life with things that you love (or at least love to hate) so that your mind is preoccupied. (I imagine there will still be an aching, but, unfortunately, I don't know how to fix that.)
You may think the whole "distractions" idea is childish, and it can be, but if you're anything like me, sometimes too much thinking can be a downward spiral. Distractions prevent that from happening, and they let you learn, try new things, help others, etc. at the same time.
I'm sure you have your own ideas, but just in case you need some inspiration these days, distraction examples may include the following: take an art/music/theatre class, learn a new language, join a social sports league, borrow our kayaks (we just got them and we LOVE them) and go out on the river with Kevin, have a picnic, go wine tasting, apple pick in the fall, go hiking or camping, start a huge home improvement project that requires oodles of research and planning and doing and redoing, learn a new recipe or cooking method, read lots of books (perhaps new genres or a classic you haven't read before) and/or reread some old ones, take up knitting/quilting/cross-stitching, learn calligraphy, find a new volunteer organization and devote lots of time/energy to it, create your own business, take an investment class or read up on a type of investing you want to know more about, plan a surprise for Kevin, plan and take a trip to a far off location you've always wanted to see, make a film, etc.


2. Shiny silver hope coins - take mine! I've got plenty to give :)


3. Keep going to church, praying, and journaling.


4. Nurture your relationship with Kevin. Do fun things together. Hold hands. Stay best friends. Find ways to help him though this journey, and don't be afraid to let him know how he can help you.


5. Keep eating well and exercising. See shiny silver hope coins. If mine happen to work, you want your body and mind to be in the best shape to grow your family. Plus, these are just good things to do anyway.


6. See your doctors as regularly advised and when issues come up. I imagine you and Kevin are doing this already, but I mention it because I have, in my "old" age, started to avoid doctors appointments. Don't be like me!


7. Find a couples or women's only support group. I imagine there are many, and I'm glad to help you find some you might like.


8. Make plans. If your situation or mental/physical health changes, change them. I can sometimes get hung up on the "oh, but what if X happens, and we have to reschedule/cancel? I will feel so [negative emotion] and our [friends, family, acquaintances] will be so [negative emotion]. Let's just say no now so we don't have that awkwardness later." Guess what? Plans change. And those who love you won't be [negative emotion] about it.


I'm not sure if this is what you are/were looking for, and I know some of these are trivial. But, at the very least, now you know that someone who loves you is reading your words and hearing your voice and thinking of you and wanting to help.

Meantime

Several weeks ago I wrote a letter to our Lord.

Allowing myself to be a little mad at God for not making answers as obvious to me as I want, when I want them, is both totally immature (childlike? Can I get credit for that?) and spiritually healthy. I must know how unconditionally he loves me because I'm willing to yell at him.

The outside world will not be privy to my entire letter to God, but I want to start educating those who might not know much about the business of family growing. It's not the fault of those who are ignorant of it. It's the responsibility of people facing infertility, or at least unintended delay in growing their family, to teach.

1 - Gratitude

One part of my letter thanked Him for blessing me beyond my deserving -- obviously so. He offered, gave, is giving, and will give me salvation, if I am open to His mercy. I had a joyful childhood, have talents and gifts, an incredible husband, a beautiful job, and the opportunities and courage God gave me to serve Him and His people. That huge list of things that makes my heart so full should be enough. My ingratitude is something on which I am working.

2 - Reflections

My letter moved on to trying to explain the perceptions I've developed in the last three years with regards to hope. I feel like I've put too many shiny silver hope coins in the machine. I'm fresh out. This leads me to divide hope into two categories: active hope and subsurface hope.

Active hope: "This might be the day we conceive!"
Subsurface hope: "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me even though I feel like the exact opposite IRL."

Shiny, appealing active hope is not the right kind of faith. There is childlike faith, but then there is dealing with the consequences of assuming everything is going to happen the way you predict it.

3 - Servility

Faith (and the accompanying subsurface hope) is continuing to ask and pray to Him for His will, even when you're mad that your personal timeline is inconvenienced. Faith is knowing that God can do anything, but that he expects you to continue engaging in your life in the meantime.

"Faith is to believe what you do not see;

the reward of this faith is to see what you believe."  

--St. Augustine

I don't see what I'm supposed to do in the meantime as I wait for the fulfillment of my vocation, I wrote in my letter to God. "I know I'm not doing this right; I know the Devil has my ear. I'm having a hard time distinguishing between Your voice and his, which is crazy," I wrote.

I recognized in the letter that my job here on Earth is NOT to avoid pain at all costs. This is one of the lesser reasons why IVF will never be an option (more on that in the future). I end my letter asking God to tell me what I'm supposed to do to distract my thoughts or deal with things in the meantime.

Since writing it, I've had 3 or 4 holy hours in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament and received a few whisperings of answers. I'm still sorting them out, but if anyone has an answer to my question, "What do I do in the meantime while the process of God's will is underway?" I'd love to hear it in a comment below!

Blessings, Not Burdens

In the same vein of today's culture sanctifying busyness, we glorify our burden. If for a laugh, just to vent, or because misery loves company, so many of us play "my problem is bigger than yours" all day. We hear this a lot during our engagement:

"Just wait!"

"Welcome to the end of your life."

"You had fun while it lasted."

"Do you really know what you're getting yourself into?"

Over the months it graduated into begrudging bigger family life: complaints of crying babies, sleepless nights, jealously of free time, and other ways that good people wanted to commiserate about the burden of their family.

During our efforts to grow our family, we've encountered the gambit. Curiosity with pure intentions, desire for us to join them as Family People, warnings to delay it as long as we can, and general reactions about how uncomfortable a burden pregnancy and kids will be.


Stop. Please.

We'd gladly take your burden. I look forward to morning sickness. When my back aches at 8 months pregnant (God-willing), I will remember the emptiness of years with a pain-free back. During those sleepless nights, knowing we'll work hard to show patience to one another, Kevin and I will share countless grateful glances. This is what we want and what we know God is calling us to have.

Complaining about your blessings hurts our world and the kingdom. I wish I could share with you my perspective, not to unburden myself of the pain of infertility, but so that your might know the value of your sleepy eyes, full weekends, and occupied homes.

Elation Hibernation

The sun is coming out, the air is beginning to warm, birds talk to each other between the budding trees.

Hello, again.

Lately I have joked with a few friends and family members about what I call the Elation Hibernation.  Since getting married last spring, I have been fully aware of (and basking in) the Elation Hibernation I have been enjoying with my new husband.  It has been a necessary step in our relationship and in our vocation.

You can find a million places and people around the world who will give you their version of what the first year of marriage looks like.  My husband and I have gotten a continuum of responses, from "If you can make it through the first year, you'll be together forever," to "The first year is the honeymoon stage; just wait."  Boo, I say, to ye negative ninnies!

Hey bear, time to get up!

Image courtesy of Toa55 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Married life has gotten better and better everyday of this, our first year.  I love him more now than I did when I first realized I was falling for him, than I did when he surprised me by kneeling with my ring in hand, and than I did when I looked at him as if he was the only one in the room while I vowed to be his wife forever.  I have also spent more time with him than any human being on the planet since I was a baby attached at the hip to my mother for those first few months.

We have become expert chefs (in a few dishes), fit runners (well, he was already a ridiculous runner), committed workers (on both our marital choices and employment), movie-cuddlers, and explorers into each other's minds and habits.

I'm blessed with parents and parents-in-law who understand that my husband and I needed to learn about who we are as a family.  They generally wait for us to contact them, which, unlike has been my lifelong habit, means I don't talk to my family for days sometimes.  We are learning about our autonomy. It's a whole new step in the direction of adulthood (am I there yet?) that I didn't see coming.

Warning: ignoring the fact that you're hibernating can alienate you from the outside world.  I became aware of it (though I still delighted in our PJ and movie-watching evenings) and came up for air in the form of reconnecting with good friends.  I'm so grateful to have these friend and family who show us, every time we see them, that they understand with their outstretched arms and interest in our lives.

The next step, as any good sitcom will teach you, is to find great couple friends. We're blessed to have several already and we're working to spread the joy.  God has blessed our marriage with so much Grace that we've both grown in our relationship with Him through our covenant with each other.

Honestly, part of me feels like summarizing with "Sorry I'm not sorry," though I know I could be much more successful at reaching out to others, like we are called to do.  As soon as spring shows up, so will I :) In the meantime, pass the Netflix.

I'd love to hear from the married folks, dating folks, engaged folks, and single folks on this phenomenon.

Multicultural Education

This was the week. I've been praying in anticipation for my multicultural education class this week, knowing that the topic would be "heterosexism." This really isn't my number one concern for our world, but I knew I would be in the minority on this issue and didn't want to neglect my call to it.

In preparation for this week, the professors gave everyone a circle pin that says "Support Gay Rights," asking us to make our own choice about whether or not to wear it for two weeks. There is a reflection assignment due at the end of the semester reviewing our choice. No discussion, just "will they or won't they?"

I prayed that I could open up my heart to be the Holy Spirit's instrument and that I would be able to communicate Love for person, while still speaking the Truth. I knew this would probably alienate me from most of my classmates.

We have to write a reflection paper at the end of every session of "Multicultural Education." This was mine:

This debate is demeaning Love down to this.

As is my habit, I think I made my views somewhat clear last night. The risk with having views such as mine, especially after the entire class watched that film ["For the Bible Tells Me So"], is that voicing them falls on ears that already have opinions about me as an Other. I wish the button experiment was a discussion rather than an assumption that choosing not to wear the button means one is a bigot or a religious nut. I make a very conscious choice never to use “gay” as a derogatory or to refer to people with same sex attraction as an Other. People with same sex attraction face a lot more struggles than I can comprehend and just like other people who face struggles I don’t fully understand, they deserve my respect and compassion. This issue truly isn’t my number one concern, but I think it influences a lot of other parts of our society that concern me (ie, adoption of children by gay couples intentionally removes a parental role from the family). I understand that I am in a shrinking minority, but the message that I kept hearing last night (“Don’t like gay marriage? Don’t get one.”) is an unfair one that undermines and silences discussion.

I appreciate that the film included parents who discovered that they needed to have compassion and Love for their children. I also understand that this played well into the “Don’t like gay marriage? Don’t get one” stance. However, I agree with the African-American mother when she said that she realized that her thoughts and fears about her daughter’s sexuality centered mainly around her having sex.* Her daughter is still her daughter, no matter to whom she is attracted, and she needed to remember that. This is an important thing to remember for every “Otherism,” including the otherism the movie displayed against their icon for “Christians who stand against ‘gay rights.’” We all struggle with our own burdens and understandings of our world. I don’t subscribe to the idea that the world is void of a Universal Truth, but I recognize that we’re all searching for it, even if that is subconsciously.

*This link will bring you to the part of the movie I mentioned above. Note: I don't 100% agree with her approach, but she made a good point that can help those of us who forget to Love all people.

Vocation Confirmation

I had an Epiphany through Pinterest that had nothing to do with lace doilies, spray paint, low calorie cheese cake, or wedding table runners (per se...).

Last year, Sr. Lisa challenged me to examine my vocation and I did... kind of. Tony called me on my bull you-know-what, correctly so. I spent the next while asking a lot of questions I never wanted to fully explore.

Yes.

Truth be told, I didn't want to be a nun. I had just celebrated my six-monthaversary with my wonderful beau and I was looking forward to teaching my kids to swim and make perfect rice krispie treats. The best I could do in terms of openness to God's will was, "I want to want to do God's will."

So I wrote this, which almost tore me in half. My beau proved his worth to me and told me he wanted me to follow God's will, too. We've prayed, I've prayed, I've only really discussed it with him and my sisters for fear of over-thinking instead of over-praying.

I knew what I wanted (marriage) and I was 99% positive I knew God was calling me to marriage. I told God, many times (often in frustration), to just confirm it, already.

Continue reading at Ignitum Today.

Crabcakes and Football

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Slow and steady wins back their blogging brain.

I have exciting news and I'm going to continue writing quick takes until I decide whether or not to tell you....go ahead and guess.

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Have you listened to the Bright Maidens' interview with Pat Gohn yet?

Click to listen to Part 2

In the first one we discussed a myriad of topics that we believe are important to Catholic young adults. In this, the second one, we spent a great deal of time talking about... sex. And virginity, and recycled virginity, and our identity as such.

It really turns into honest girl talk, so men, if you've ever wanted to be a fly on the wall of a sleepover, this is your chance.

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Exciting news hint: it is one reason why I have been posting infrequently/not posting. Seriously, try to guess! #CathSorority girls aren't allowed to guess.

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Click to buy it on Amazon

In the last week, I have listened to my church's 1997 recording of our Song of Mark production at least 20 times. It's a stellar musical and I highly recommend buying the CD and/or asking your music minister if they'd consider producing this play at your parish.

I know all of the people with lead roles, so I'm tempted to go to Mass on Monday and embarrass them with compliments about how I have their voices stuck in my head.

One of the children in the production who had a solo is one of my oldest friends and was 10 years old when her beautiful little voice sang the Good News. She now has a three-year-old girl and a month-old baby boy.

Time flies.

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My cousin and her awesome boyfriend had a fun idea for a wedding present with a personal touch. Cousin's-Awesome-Boyfriend salvaged and split a beautiful piece of wood, so that it has a flat surface for painting.

Selfishly, I'm eager to help them because it will help me get back into painting and creating art. They want me to paint a big crab on this, similar to the picture, and insert the words "Crabcakes and football: That's what Maryland DOES!"

My canvas. Wood, I'm turning you into a crab.

What a creative wedding gift! I'm sure they'll get a kick out of it. I'll post some pictures of my progress later.

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My exciting news will compel me to move to a different city. Bittersweet.

I decided I'd reveal my exciting news in its own post. So guess, guess, guess!

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Don't forget to join the Bright Maidens for this week's topic on stay-at-home-moms and working-out-of-the-home moms.

In case you were wondering, we had this one planned before Lent began, so it's a coincidence that the whole Ann Romney/Hilary Rosen thing blew up recently. You're welcome to reflect on that, if you haven't already, but that wasn't our aim.

Trista's post, "On Motherhood"
Lynsey's post, "WOHM vs. SAHM"
Mandi's post, "Stay at Home Mom vs. Working Mom"
Lisa's post, "The Best Job in the World"

Basics

Back to blogging basics for me. The reason I began blogging a year and a half ago was because I needed a creative outlet in my life. I lost sight of that somewhere along the way and I let it translate to "burden" in my head. I'm going back to basics because I need to keep creativity in my life.

The burden came when I kept trying to analyze my life for my blog instead of ... uh, living.

My eyes were too big for my stomach

Acceptable basics: God, family, food, water, shelter.

God

This weekend God made Himself clear through a whispering wind. My (not-feeling-well-because-this-year's-cold/flu-is-a-beeyatch-and-sticks-around-for-three-weeks) beau and I spent an entire day doing NOTHING like a pair of 5-year-olds.

Sloth-y squirrel

Sloth? Maybe, but we also shook off all of the poop that we allow our daily lives to accumulate. We prayed, we napped, we watched TV shows we haven't seen since the 90s, consequently giggled and shook our heads at 90s humor (Did I do that?), and READ BOOKS. It was a much-needed, extremely lazy Saturday. God helped us get our individual inner-children back into the picture.

Family

I spent Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday with my wonderful family at the beach. Hmmm maybe I didn't really need a lazy Saturday, after all. We goofed around, pretended we were all younger again, and walked on the beach. It was another back-to-basics weekend and perfectly timed to help me focus on God's great sacrifice and Jesus' resurrection.

My dad is always the photographer. YTBDITWWW

Food

During our lazy Saturday, my beau and I made THE MOST DELICIOUS lasagna that has ever existed. God had something to do with that, as well.

Mid-construction. Those are lasagna genius hands.

Email me, I'll send you a piece.

Water

Christ in the Eucharist is the Lamb of God. Food that prevents us from hungering for eternity. His blood is the drink that saves us and quenches our thirst forever. Music, sometimes, can be like water for our soul, relieving a spiritual dry spell or a least cutting a path to God so that He may work in us. One of my very talented (I have two of 'em) sisters is a fantastic singer. She gives me chills and when I hear her, I'm transported back to a time when I would watch her determined face grab her way across the monkey bars, four feet off the ground, swinging her three foot body with every successful move forward.

This Sunday, I was the proud sister again as she quenched a Mass-full of worshipers with her beautiful voice as a cantor. I'm so grateful to God for giving her a talent that will always be a witness for others.

Shelter

Much of the time, I prefer being outside to being just about anywhere. Not all of the time. I'm not Annie Oakley, but I do love a good hike and some serotonin. 

I had to bring in some nature to calm me in my room/office. Also, some Jesus.

So, in honor of our actual anniversary (instead of the monthaversaries we've been celebrating), my beau and I will be enjoying a hike this week! I hope the weather cooperates by raining down like Niagra the day before our hike so the pollen loses this battle.

Give me this view, anyday

Oh, hello - 7QT, Volume 53

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Hello.

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I discovered something about myself a few years ago. My passionate nature allows me to focus intensely on three things at one time. The fourth thing either bounces off my passion shield (Be gone, archery! We have no room for you here!) or schooches its way into my heart. 

Jesus' yoke is easy and His burden is light.

Of course, said schooching fills me to the brim (I run full steam ahead with three passions) and one lonely item must leave the nest for a little while.

I think you know what lost out this time around.

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Why?

1. Because my personal relationships started to get elbowed out because of number two...

2. I got a part-time job as a youth activities coordinator at my church. It was the tipping factor that indirectly asked me to bop out one of my intensities.

At first, I thought I could do it all. I was going to ORGANIZE myself into success. It's a pipe dream I'm determined to fulfill, but for now the solution was to leave blogging out in the cold.

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So youth ministry is completely different than I thought it would be! I have taught Theology of the Body to teens for almost two years now, but that requires so little prior preparation that I was fooled into thinking youth ministry was as carefree.

It's invigorating and fulfilling, while poking dozens of tiny holes in my reality. I thought I was an organized person (and a psych test agrees... more on that later), but this job has made me realize I need to ENFORCE organization on myself. It doesn't just take care of itself.

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Coin Rubbage

One step in becoming more organized is also my next big piece of news: I'm moving out of my parents' house! I moved into this house as a toddler and I'm moving out a month before my 25th birthday.

To those graduating in May:

Your decision to live at home depends entirely on your discernment and your parents' willingness/insistence. The first thing anyone says when I tell them I "still live at home" is, "ALRIGHT, YOU'RE SMART!" accompanied by their fingers rubbing imaginary coins together in front of my face.

While, yes, I did save money (while paying a reduced rent), the best benefit of "staying at home" is precisely what you took for granted throughout your senior year of high school:

No one can quantify the value of coming home to people who love you. To wake up in a house where I brought home my first "A," while my now-landlords clapped and squealed in excitement is invaluable to me. My wonderful parents and I reconnected as adults and I learned more from them in the last two, perspective-rich years than I did since that first homework assignment.

Thank you, Mommy and Daddy! I'm moving on to learn more, but I love the home you created between all of us.

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My areas of interest. So I like art.

My full-time job provided me with the opportunity to take the Birkman assessment. Ask my family and my beau and they will tell you I can't shut up about it.

Ask me and I tell you I'm enthusiastic about it because I'm a big picture thinker who likes to see how things work out with a plan.

It's SO COOL to have a computer tell you, "Hey, you're insightful, you like to work in smaller groups, but too much solitude is bad for you. When you're stressed out, you will try to withdraw and procrastinate, so try to avoid that by setting up your environment with plenty of organization and time to complete your tasks."

WHAT IS COOLER than seeing your habits and brain quantified? I think I talk about it exactly the right amount of time. Beau? Care to comment? :)

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Bright Maidens announcement time!

We're thinking about switching things up! This change would be reflected in the calendar (click the link, copy the URL, and use it to "subscribe" in your calendar application or format), so we'd like to hear what you think.

The topic that normally falls on a Tuesday will pertain to an entire week. Instead of asking you to write to a one-day deadline, we're giving all of us a chance to wake up a little during the week.

If you have time to write your piece for Monday, have at it! If you want to explain why you think Gilbert Blythe is the ultimate man in 7 short bullet points, please, be our guest and wait until Friday!

I hate over-using the word "busy," especially before I have children, so I won't.... but it might be nice to inject a little flexibility into the week. What do you think?

Lime spelled backwards

One year ago today, the only grandfather I got to meet passed away in his home, after more than a year battling to get back to normal life, post-stroke. One of the things everyone often teased him about was his chronic tardiness. I think of him now, finally reunited with the grandmother I never met, who died when my mother was a toddler: "Good ol' Emil. Always keeping me waiting!" I can hear her say.

In re-tribute, I'm reposting my tribute to him from last year:

My only grandfather passed away on Wednesday, early morning and we laid him to rest today. About two weeks ago, we checked him into the ER for pneumonia symptoms and found out he had lung cancer that had metastasized to his liver on the side that was paralyzed from his stroke a year ago.

My theory is that the paralyzed side hid a lot of the pain that he would have felt in what turned out to be late stages of cancer. PLUS he was a stubborn man who spoke of no pain, emotional or physical. You might think Chuck Norris and Jack Bauer are tough, but that's because you never met Emil Daddy.

We called him Emil Daddy because he was a strapping, young 54-year-old when his eldest grandchild (ME!) was born -- he didn't want to feel old and he liked doing things his own way, so it was "Emil Daddy."

If you're as impeccably observant as my grandfather was, you've already noticed that his name is the backwards version of a tart, green citrus fruit. He came to EVERY Grandparents' Day at each of his five grandchildren's schools, bringing with him a bag of limes as a visual teaching tool.

"You'll always remember how to spell it because it's lime, L-I-M-E, spelled backwards," he said to a crowd of open mouthed elementary school kids sitting Indian style on the rug.

He was always a big hit and my sister says she has a friend who asked her last year, "You're the one with the grandfather with the limes, right?"

My Emil Daddy lost his young wife when my mom and her sister were 2 and 3-years-old. I was talking to a friend and cousin the day he died and she exclaimed about how she didn't know any man who is ready to get married at the age he was on his wedding day, let alone who is able to raise two girls. Those girls grew into extremely successful women with college degrees, a nursing degree for one and an engineering masters degree for the other, and kicking families, if I do say so myself.

Throughout all of Emil Daddy's own book of Job, he remained steadfast in the Lord. It was really something to admire. His faith was consistent and strong, even when it would have been easier to get mad and give up.

In his daily life, Emil Daddy was extremely organized. I cannot begin to explain just what I mean by "extremely" because you have never met someone so efficient and particular. He saved every used peanut butter jar to store something, he separated black pens, blue pens, and red pens, he rewrote the user manuals for his computer in notebooks, cross-referencing them in other notebooks (using color coordination), so he would absolutely know where to go when he had a question.

I'm on the left. Chubby little hand, huh?

I could write for hours about the little quirks and memories I have of this stoic yet sacrificing and giving man. In fact, I'm working on a novel that will explain the love story between Emil Daddy and his wife, Thelma. Sneak preview: we have a few pages of 12-year-old Emil handwriting explaining how he was in love with a girl in his class, Thelma, and how he wanted to marry her. It only took ten years, I guess.

Thank you, Lord, for bringing me into the world under the care of my grandfather, Emil. I will continue to learn from the imprint he left on my life.

Thank you for your prayers and your time in reading this. God bless you all and Merry Christmas!

Sneak preview

Sister, dad, mom, sister, me.

Souls in a storm

I'll hang on to my excuses over my missing Bright Maidens post and my absence for now.... several months ago Michelle from Catholic Unveiled asked me to help her fill some space on her blog while she served others with her big heart in Mexico. Here is my contribution that she published today:

On December 22, 2010, I woke up to one of the worst phone calls that I have ever received.On April 10 of this year I woke up feeling like someone was tugging on my throat and swinging from it like it tolled the bell in a tower. I knew she had left us.

I’ve become very familiar with funerals, the abundance of food, and handshakes over the last nine months. My great aunt died unexpectedly in November (four days before Thanksgiving), my maternal grandfather died a month later (three days before Christmas), and my paternal grandmother died a week before Palm Sunday.

An additional handful of friends and family have died since last November, placing me and my family in nine funeral Masses during the last nine months.

Someone who has to repeat outfits at the funeral home cannot easily avoid the big questions about what he or she believes about souls and life after Earth. Our logical, rational mind can get bogged down for the quest for answers to this question.

Logic and rationale are beautiful gifts of the mind; they are often helpful and the means by which we discover Truth. However, we can’t forget to think about where the rubber meets the road, especially when this vehicle is carrying a full load of grief and fear.

We are the Church, members of the Communion of Saints. When Christ conquered death and resurrected, He unified the Church beyond the weakened lines of Earthly death.

The readings for August 7 highlighted this bond and exemplifies the attendance of God in every part of our lives.

In moments of weakness, I catch myself assuming that God was only truly present with the prophets, among the Apostles, and the first disciples. Elijah had a direct telephone line to God, Moses saw Him several times, the Twelve followed Him around for three years, and then saw Him in the Upper Room after His death.

Of course they believed, I rant, their faith grew daily in His strong, factual presence.

We don’t get that luxury, I think in my self-pitying mindset. We just have to believe God cares enough to pull us out of the storm when we fall below the water’s surface.

“A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD— but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake— but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire— but the LORD was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.” -1 Kings 19:11-13

God came to Elijah in the calm.

Read more....

Like Pulling Snowman Teeth - 7QT, Volume 51

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I didn't post for Thanksgiving A) because I was enjoying time with my family and B) I prayed all of you were enjoying your Thanksgiving instead of reading blogs!

So......... I enjoyed time with my cousins, the Twinsies, and the rest of my family. They are almost a year old! I can't believe it. I have a sliver of the feeling that I would feel if I was their mother, I'm sure.

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Cyber Monday came and went without a penny spent by me. *Pats self on back*

I hear the best deals come later anyway. Plus, do I really need anything else?

(Check out Decide.com if you're considering buying some electronics or gadgets.)

Though I constantly resist the sales, I'm still enticed by some really delicious feeling of spending money, even though I HATE SPENDING MONEY.

I wrote this quick take on Wednesday... and Thursday I went on a Target.com spree... sigh.

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How do you feel about the Victoria's Secret show? I never had a very strong opinion about it, but it occurred to me that I probably should...

My short opinion: yes, they are objectifying women. Absolutely, though the women choose to and even DREAM of walking down that catwalk. They also dress it up with the fanciful, costume atmosphere that the fashion world is famous for.

Therefore, no, it's not as bad as porn, but the subtlety allows more of the negative messages that discredit TOB to sneak by, under the guise of a carnival show.

Victorian Secret fashion show

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Liesl introduced me to 1000 Awesome Things, such as when the first person starts the standing ovation. That person, if you look around next time you're at a performance, is usually my father or my sister. I admire them for that because, unfortunately, I don't think that will ever be me.

Check out their books for a dose of positivity in your Christmas shopping:

The Book of (Holiday) Awesome
The Book of Awesome

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One thing I really love about my beau is also something that attracts a lot of playful teasing from my family and friends.

A cruel little game my family (and I) play is to name a movie, any movie, hoping to nail one of the 14 movies he's seen (I'm kidding, my love :) ). He's seen more than 14, but probably less than 80.

Again, I love this about him. He spent his childhood DOING things instead of watching movies. He is an expert on almost everything handy or crafty (seriously, everything). I learn something new every single day and without the time to learn all of that, he wouldn't be able to teach me the quirky, genius ways to fix things.

Plus, now we have the chance to watch some of my favorite movies together, should he wish to watch them.

He's putting in surround sound in his living room so we can enjoy some movies together. :)

I still prefer our hiking and travel outing most of all.

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I just watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and .... the first thing I thought of when the Dentist took out the teeth of the Abominable Snowman was, "Eugenics!"

As we know, the delightful founder of Planned Parenthood, Margaret Sanger, was a strong voice in the eugenics movement. She advocated for birth control and sterilization to clean up the human race (taking out the "mentally inferior" and black), treating fertility like a disease.

Now here we have this gigantic, fearsome (misunderstood?) monster whose unappealing feature is his man-and-reindeer appetite and accompanying teeth. Pop, pop, pop. Get those things out of there. Presto-chango, he's tame and puts stars on your 15 ft. Christmas trees at the end of a leash.

Are you picking up what I'm putting down? To clarify: I'm not accusing the writer of Rudolph of supporting eugenics, nor am I belittling serializing to removing a monster's teeth.

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Do you think Santa picked up a Canadian accent up there?

One Year of JML Love

Today is the one year anniversary of the unexpected passing of one of my grandparent figures. She was a wonderful, giving woman in every sense of the word. My family celebrated her life this morning at Mass, putting us in communion with her and the rest of the Communion of Saints.


Thank you, God, for putting her in the lives of my mom, my aunt, her husband, her children, her daughters-in-law, the grandchild she got to hold and the twin grandchildren who will learn about her throughout their lives.


In memory, I'm re-posting the eulogy I gave in her honor a year ago (For those who have never heard the Richmond accent, "Hello there" is pronounced <<Hello, they-yah>> and she was famous for it):

Hello they-yah.

One of the most consistent memories I have of Joan Marie was that she was always very well put together. She always had a fun jacket or sweater, perfectly matched shoes, and a fresh face of make-up. I remember that every time I hugged her, I felt a little foundation rub off onto my cheek.

Now, I think I was in 6th grade when I finally grew taller than her, so it was the little ritual I will always remember: first, she’d say “Hello they-yah Elizabuth,” Second, bend down, but not until the last second, so as not to look like I was about to hug a 10 year old. Third, accept the warm kiss on my cheek and feel the slick spot of foundation on my cheekbone. Just like I could feel that little spot on my cheek, we all feel the direct and indirect “rub offs” that Joan left on each of us.

Joan Marie and the house she decorated WERE CHRISTMAS. She used to tickle my dad into submission. Laura and Chris always mentioned each time they received a gift, which was always perfectly wrapped, on time, and ideal for that person, it would most likely be green. My freshman year of college, she IM'd me. My 65 year old Great Aunt IM'd me! I’m sure Michael Jr will testify that she was the coolest Mimi around and he’ll get to tell his new cousins all about her.

Joan lived the faith and didn’t ask for credit. Obviously Matthew 6 was stamped right on her heart. She probably dropped off meals at peoples’ houses who, to this day, do not know from whom they came.

This philosophy spilled over, in abundance, to her life with Saint Gertrude High School. I never knew how involved in Saint Gertrude she was until I was pleasantly surprised to run into her at a class correspondents’ meeting earlier this fall. Gerties love their committees, I think I sit on 3 of them and I’m sure she sat on 30 or more since she graduated. There she was at her alma mater for what was likely her 1000th meeting to discuss Alumnae relations, chatting up some ladies from her Gertie era. She was the popular kid!

When I offered to talk about Joan, Johnny asked me not to be too soupy. So let me see: ham biscuits, broccoli casserole, corn pudding, Peecahn PAHI.

Let’s just agree, the essence of Joan Marie is: Joy. And it’s our job to keep that joy going.

DIY in pitchas, 7QT, Volume 49

Click here to read the original post at ConversionDiary.com

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Truly quick quick takes: The fun DIYs I've discovered recently, in pictures!

This lovely lady made her wedding dress out of vintage curtains!

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Homemade laundry detergent: $6.00 for 576 loads. Uh, yes please.

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DIY decoupage, just in time for Christmas crafting!

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Step-by-step how to install under-the-sink shelves. It's enough to make me want to clean...

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Closet dividers made from old CDs. Wow, this is like chocolate for my OCD palette. Not only do I have a use for those old CDs, but I can organize my closet again and again!

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Want the light in the background of a depth-of-field photo to appear in shapes? DIY it! For the non-photogs out there, the contraption that makes this possible is called a bokeh.

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Vinegar runs at about $1 for a gallon. That squashes any competition for chemical cleaners and now you have a list of 45 uses for the cheaper alternative. No brainer, PLUS you can pretend you are your grandmother as you clean everything you can find with vinegar.