Happy birthday, baby girl

I just put my baby girl to bed for the last time as a 1-year-old. In a little over an hour, the clock will turn, and suddenly, she'll be two. She won't know the change, won't feel it, probably won't notice anything is different (except that we're singing Happy Birthday a lot). But I know it, and since I'm a huge sap, I'll probably cry some more.

On my way to get groceries tonight, I began crying in the car over the fact that that giant unknown of parenthood has resulted in one of the sweetest, most generous, most dramatic, funniest kids I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Granted, I'm not really a kid or baby person so therefore don't know a ton. Also granted, I know every parent says the same thing about their kids. But when it comes to Selah - it's true.

Who knew that when I pushed for the last time, and felt those legs kicking inside me on their way out, that she'd soon be kicking a huge place in our hearts? Who could have told me what an impact this little girl would have on us?  How she'd challenge us with her generosity and desire for togetherness? How she'd (inadvertently) shame me by how fully she loves her little brother, who rocked HER world most of all? How she'd make us laugh just by uttering a simple little "yeah" at the most surprising of times? How she'd teach us to slow down and enjoy a butterfly, a rainstorm, a hard-earned hug? How she'd teach us to "zoom" in excitement over the smallest of things?

Selah brings such joy to our lives. She's like her mama AND her daddy - she has extreme highs and lows, especially where food is concerned. But her highs are more frequent than her lows, and her smiles more plentiful than her cries. She loves to include everyone in every activity, and gives kisses to all the people (and things) that are meaningful to her. She loves to help, to run (it's so stinking cute), to look at herself in the mirror and on our phones. She loves cheese. Selah loves Benny, and Isaiah, and Mama and Daddy. She loves her grandparents and her auntie, and her friends at church (Char...Hann...Zo). She loves our neighbor boys (Wy? Ti?).

This little girl is SO FULL of love, and she is a joy to us. Although I'm so sad to say goodbye to her 1-year-old self, I'm really excited to see how God grows and develops her over this next year of her life. Will her little ringlets remain? Will she keep her adventurous spirit? Will she still want cheese for every breakfast, lunch, dinner and snack, or will something else become her favorite? Who is this little lady God is growing? I'm so excited to have a front-row seat.

Selah at 23 months. It's safe to say she has outgrown the basket :)

Isaiah's 2-month update

Isaiah turned 2 months old yesterday. What a crazy two months it has been, but also - so fast!

Don't judge me, but as I laid on the bed with him last night before putting him down, I got a little weepy. I know two months is still really young, but I feel like I am just coming out of the fog, and as I do, I'm realizing I missed his newborn phase.

Granted, he's way bigger than most newborns (12lbs, 5oz and 24.5" long today at his appointment), so that could contribute to that feeling like I just woke up having missed his "newborn" phase. He's also pretty awake and aware most of the time. He has reflux, so for a few weeks whenever he was awake, he was also crying. Now though, his medication has really kicked in and he's so chill and content after he eats and burps. Little dude just lays and stares and if you talk to him or he can stare at himself in the mirror, he smiles a lot. He has the best smiles. So unreserved, and such joy at being talked to and included in the goings-on. Is that because he's a second child and starved for attention? Gosh, I hope not. I hope he never feels left out and attention-needy. I hope he's just a really chill, sweet little guy who delights in his people. And I hope he always smiles as much as he does now!

Isaiah still doesn't love to be carried/worn, but if you catch him at a good moment, he's OK with it. He still pretty much hates the car seat if it's not moving. Strolling in it is fine - as long as he's moving. In the car is fine - as long as it's moving. Buckle him, unbuckle him, whatever - as long as he's moving. For as chill as he is about most things, he loses his mind when the movement stops and he's in the carseat. Isaiah has quite the temper at those moments, which is not something I love, but he makes up for it in smiles.

He's started sleeping through the night, and the last two nights, he hasn't even woken for his pacifier around 6 like he was doing. He goes to bed around 10:30, gets a dream feed at 12:30, and then eats around 9 or 9:30. What a blessing to us to have him settling into that rhythm! That's something I could definitely sustain.


He loves his sister, and she loves him. He gives her big smiles whenever she kisses him - which is a lot. His grip is strong, and his grip on our hearts is strong. I know I'm a sap, but I truly feel like this week I'm settling into a really good place, emotionally. I've struggled a lot since he was born - with guilt, with resentment, with feeling like a burden, with thankfulness, with anger...The list goes on. Maybe I'll write more about all that later, but for now, suffice it to say that God has been really good to me, to us. He's been gracious and loving toward me, and he's blessed us with such a sweet little fella. So, without further ado, enjoy Isaiah's 2-month photo with one of his killer smiles :)

Introducing Isaiah

It's been more than three weeks since our little Isaiah entered the world, so I figured I should blog his birth story sooner rather than later, or else risk losing the memories to the chasm of sleep deprivation. Also, it's taken me 3+ attempts and the loss of most of what I had written, so here goes nothing.

When we found out we were pregnant and our general due date, I began hoping for a "fun" birth date for this little one. At least one that was easy to remember (5/10/15 or 5/15/15 sounded good!). When I hit 37 weeks, I began having prodromal labor (labor that mimics real labor and contractions, but never actually results in a baby). It kind of killed my dreams of a 5/10/15 or 5/15/15 birth date, but honestly, I was happy to think I wasn't going to be pregnant much longer. Between the weight gain, exhaustion, aches and pains and general inability to be the mom I wanted to be to Selah, I was done. SO DONE. However, pregnancy lasted nearly the full 40 weeks, with me waking up 5/14/15 - 2 days shy of my  due date - with legitimate contractions.

I got up at 7 and began putting the final touches on my hospital bag and trying to figure out if I should cancel the photo shoot Selah and I were going to do that morning. I was having contractions the whole time, but was so leery about saying "This is it," after the weeks of false labor. About 4 hours in to contractions, they were getting more painful and more regular, so I called the shoot and told Adrian we needed to plan to head to the hospital. First (priorities!) we needed food. I made the mistake last time of not eating before we checked into the hospital and so after a 19-hour labor and only liquids and one Greek yogurt - I was HANGRY. I wasn't going to make that mistake again! We (A, Selah, myself and A's mom who was in town to help) went to the Denver Biscuit Company and I stuffed myself on The Franklin. It's a biscuit, stuff with a fried chicken breast, bacon and cheese and covered in sausage gravy. Heart health was clearly one of my top concerns ;)

After lunch, I made A get me to the hospital as I sat crunched over with more painful contractions. I was so worried when we checked in I wouldn't be dilated enough for them to admit me, but about 2 pm, once I had changed into some more appropriate labor clothes, they found I was 5 cm dilated.

At that point, there was some concern over whether or not the baby had a hand or something up next to his/her head. There was a funny bulge next to the head, they said, but weren't too worried. We passed a few hours laboring in the tub, on the birthing ball and moseying around the room. By 6 pm, I was already getting tired and though I was at 8 cm, felt like I was going to need to rest for what I felt would be a much longer night. The anesthesiologist came in and gave me a much-needed epidural and for several hours, I "labored" in relative ease. I had my oils diffusing, was sniffing peppermint for nausea (that biscuit may have been a bad idea), and I was applying Clary Sage to keep my labor progressing. All the while, we were hanging out, watching The Office, eating ice chips (me) and talking to the nurses and doctors.

At some point, they began to get concerned over the fact that the baby's head wasn't really dropping and I wasn't progressing past 9cm. The "hand" they felt next to the baby's head could be the umbilical cord, putting him or her at risk if they were to descend any further. They began saying they wanted to either break my water and see if the cord was prolapsed or give me Pitocin to try and speed things up. I opposed both and requested to keep laboring, hopefully in a more upright position. The nurses and doctors kept lying me back and rolling me from side to side because the baby's heartbeat was decelerating and they wanted to get it stabilized.

All of a sudden, there was talk about an emergency c-section and the nurse anesthetist was in there and ready to wheel me out. Adrian and I talked and stalled and finally convinced them to not do a c-section but to break my water and see if we could put an internal heartbeat monitor on the baby. They broke my water, no cord prolapse, and put the heartbeat monitor on. The heartbeat stabilized for a little bit, and then they said there was meconium in the water - a sure sign of fetal distress. Amid (what felt like) a panic attack and so much crying and shivering and heart racing and freaking out, I told A we needed to go ahead and do the c-section. If there was meconium in the water, I knew (from having recently watched Jill Dillard's birth story) we needed to get baby out ASAP.

A few minutes later, I was wheeled into the OR, Adrian was beside me in scrubs and I was being prepped. I was still shivering and freaking out, but the doctor said, "Here we go," and literally seconds later - I heard the beautiful cry of my child. It was 12:01am on 5/15/15. Adrian told me it was a boy, the baby was held up over the curtain for just a second for me to see, and then he was carted away. Adrian alternately sat with me and checked on our son, who he said was really blue. I was so out of it I didn't really register his color or the fact that I didn't get to hold him right away, as I had requested.

Holding my son for the first time.

It wasn't until later in the recovery/transitional room, when they brought our son in, that I learned that there was umbilical cord wrapped around his neck four times. That's what caused his heart rate to decelerate. That's why he wouldn't drop. That's why he was so blue when they pulled him from me, and that's why there had been a very real danger of brain damage or death. Thankfully, his APGAR scores were normal, his hearing screen was great and he has been the greediest little eater.

We named him Isaiah Justice. Although I'm still in a fog and don't fully understand or remember everything that happened that night, I am so grateful that the Lord didn't exact his justice on our family, but rather, in His mercy, gave us a giant miracle baby. Isaiah was 8lbs and 13oz and 21" long. Although I hadn't wanted medical interventions and I resisted the c-section, I am so thankful for the work of the team of doctors and nurses who cared for me and Isaiah that night. Without their insistence on a c-section, this could be a very different birth story. We're so grateful it turned out the way it did.

One week old. Holding his head this way because it's how the cord had him wrapped in the womb.

Motherhood

A lot has been written about motherhood. Far wiser minds than mine have attempted to capture the essence of this sacred union between a mother and child, and have come far closer to expressing it with eloquence and grace. I don't want to re-invent the wheel, just make some observations on this thing called motherhood, since Mother's Day was yesterday and Selah hits 9 months tomorrow. Many would say that means I've been a mother for 9 months now, but I'd argue that motherhood began before that. Yesterday I got a lot of "Happy 1st Mother's Day!" which, while I appreciate the well-wishes, rubs me a little wrong. The idea that motherhood begins when you hold your child doesn't take into account the months, sometimes years, that have been spent preparing for this high calling that God has planned for you and that motherhood begins well before you actually get to hold the baby in your arms.

For the women who are adopting and have yet to meet their child - are they not yet a mom? What about women who have suffered the heartbreak of a miscarriage (or several)? For women who have labored and given birth to a stillborn baby, are they not mothers? Why then, are the nine months of a woman carrying a child close to her heart, rearranging her life, her priorities and her thinking, not considered part of motherhood?

You don't become a mother just because you give birth. You don't become a mother just because you change a diaper, or nurse a child at your breast, or stay up all night with a sick little one. These things are often part of the mothering journey at some point, but not for all. Likewise, giving birth or changing a diaper or staying up all night doesn't make you a mom. Motherhood is making sacrifices for another, often one who can't give you anything in return. It is a journey of re-prioritizing and making decisions that are for the betterment of a little soul. It is a constant, continual pouring out of yourself - your finances, your health, your free time, your heart.

Before I ever met Adrian, someone told me marriage makes you realize how selfish you are, and that parenting makes you really realize how selfish you still are. Parenting is in a lot of ways, a lot like marriage. It's a call to lay down your life for someone else, often without thanks or reciprocation. However, unlike marriage, you don't get to choose that person you're going to do that for. In many ways, you are called to lay down your life for someone you've never met and frankly, have no guarantee to ever like. And yet - you do it.

You let outsiders in to scrutinize your life, social workers, doctors, random old ladies in the grocery store. You empty your bank account to buy the safest gadgets (and the cutest clothes). You worry over the health of a tiny being you've never met. You give up caffeine, alcohol, milkshakes - things you love. You wake up in the middle of the night terrified that something is wrong with this tiny person you haven't met or named yet. You avoid travel and electric blankets and hot tubs and endure back pain and foot pain - gladly. And that's all before the child ever physically enters your life. You stay up late, get up early, wake up hourly. Feed till you're empty and spent. You take 3 showers a day to get the puke and poop off yourself, do load upon load of laundry, and deny yourself the little things that once meant so much to you.

As I was watching Killers tonight (that old movie with Ashton Kutcher and Katherine Heigl? I'm about to spoil it in case you haven't seen it), something struck me. After receiving a positive pregnancy test, she said, "This stopped being about what I want the moment I saw those two lines." Isn't that the truth? From the moment you find out you're entering the road to parenthood - you're a parent and it's no longer about what you want. Responsibility, decisions and sacrifice don't wait until the child has arrived and breathed our air for a certain amount of time. It begins with the beginning - conception, but that doesn't mean it suddenly becomes about what the baby wants. There's rampant idolatry in our country where our children are concerned. How do you find a balance between loving them, caring for them and not idolizing them? Where do you draw the line between being amazed at the gift God has given you, and worshipping the gift-giver instead of the gift? We do anything for our children, forgetting that the ultimate calling isn't to sacrifice for this child solely for them, but so that someday they would come to know Jesus and give him glory in their lives.

I love motherhood. Looooooooove it. Completely surprises me to say that, but it's true. I (mostly) loved being pregnant, the labor experience and the daily tasks of being a mom. If you had asked me two years ago my thoughts on this motherhood thing, I would have told you I was not excited about it. I used to be so independent. So against clingy, needy beings (except puppies). I hate(d) bodily fluids of all sorts and very much valued my alone time. You know what? Having someone depend on me, cling to me, puke on me and want to be with me constantly is surprisingly okay, even enjoyable. I won't say I gave up my cleanliness or independence or solitude willingly, but God is graciously allowing me to change. He is changing my heart.

What a blessing it is to have gone from a woman who feared children, to a woman who worships her child, to a woman who is learning (sloooowly) what it means to worship the Creator and not the tiny creation. I am a far cry from where I'd like to be in all respects, but I praise God that he is molding my heart for Him as a mother - a journey that started 18 months ago.

So, adoptive moms, pregnant moms, moms of 8, moms of babies who are already in heaven, moms-in-the-making (and dads in all stages too), take heart. God has called you to an incredibly tough task: to pour out your life for others, to love them mightily, not to worship them but to point them in worship to the One who poured out his life for us.

VanderBean's Debut

Tomorrow, my sweet baby turns 6 weeks old. Time has alternately crawled and flown by, and I am beginning to fully understand the phrase, "The days are long but the years are short." I don't know about years, but the last 6 weeks have flown by.

Next week, I'll start back to work - a fact that I am alternately terrified by and (somewhat) looking forward to. I'm looking forward to having more than an hour and a half block to not focus on all things baby. I am terrified for obvious reasons - what mother is ever ready to leave her newborn all day long, even if she knows the baby is in the FULLY capable hands of Jesus and Adrian?

Before I look ahead too much - let me look back and share the store of VanderBean's birth, for those who want to know. If you don't want to know - skip down. There are pictures at the end :)

Six weeks ago today, I woke up at 5:45 in the morning with contractions. Due to slightly elevated blood pressure and some protein in my urine at my regular Friday appointment, we were scheduled to go back to the doctor's office that morning for a follow-up. She believed I had preeclampsia and had wanted to induce on Friday. I said, "No thanks - we'll take it easy and wait and see." I wasn't even due for another week. So, when I woke up with regular contractions on Monday morning, I was confident we had made the right decision to wait and not get induced. After telling the nurse I was having regular contractions (about 6 minutes apart by the time we got to the doctor), they still hooked me up to monitors for an hour and a half to keep track of the baby's heartbeat, my blood pressure and fetal movements.

When the doctor finally (FINALLY) examined me, she found I was 5 centimeters dilated and to the hospital I was ordered to go! Do not go home, do not pass go...that kind of thing. Seriously? I could have told you it was time for the hospital. Anyways. We went home to gather our things (against doc's orders), but I was a little panicked and refused to go get food - for myself or Adrian. I was starving. He was starving...it was a bit of a hangry labor.

After checking into the hospital, our dear friend Melissa brought A a sub and then later, our friends Andy and Angela brought us some Chick-Fil-A. Mine went into the fridge for after the labor and Adrian happily ate his :/ Advice #1 to future mothers - EAT BEFORE YOU GO. I know they say not to, but I fully believe I would have felt MUCH better if I just had some food in my belly. As it was, we had to keep my mind off my hunger by watching episodes of the Office and starting Bananagrams.

Advice #2 to future mothers - If you're getting an epidural, make sure to get it as soon as you think you want it. After being in labor in the hospital for about 7-8 hours, I was ready. However, they wanted to check my cervix one more time before (I was at 8 cm dilated), and while doing that, they broke my water. After that, the contractions got AWFUL. It was seriously painful and kudos to women who go all natural. No way I could do that. For about an hour and a half, I labored really painfully between when my water was broken and when the epidural took effect. And then it was time to push. Our nurse asked in the middle of the pushing if I was ready to do it all again (pregnancy, labor) and honestly, apart from that hour and a half, I did not mind labor and delivery at all. Seriously. Some women have horror stories and I am so thankful mine wasn't one of those. What a blessing.

From 9:45 to midnight that Monday night, I pushed, and Adrian was there coaching me the whole time. Seriously, the best birth coach I could have asked for!! As we neared midnight, I was hoping the baby would make his/her appearance. Not sure why I wanted that, but I did. Anyways, a few minutes after 12:00, a contraction hit, I pushed, and most of the baby came on out. The doctor was in the hall at that point, so the nurse went running out to grab her, leaving just Adrian and I there to try and keep that baby from hitting the floor! Not really, but close. I could actually still feel the legs inside me kicking (what a weird sensation), so he wasn't about to actually deliver the baby, but it was a little close! After the doctor delivered the baby, she let Adrian announce the gender.

When he said, "We have a little girl," I asked, "Seriously?!" I thought he was joking; I had been so sure it was a boy!! I was wrong :)

We had two girl names picked out, but when we saw the size of her hands and feet, and learned she was in the 98th percentile for height, we got a little worried about our name options. Did we want to go with Elliot (Elle or Ellie) - a name that, though it holds great meaning, is a boy's name? Or did we want to go with Remy, which rhymes with Remy the Hemi? No thanks. We needed something feminine, in case she follows in her dad's footsteps and is not small and dainty? (PS - there are apparently baby size predictors, based off mom and dad's height. According to that - she'll be 5'11''.)

After a day to think about it and rest up, we eventually settled on the name Selah Grace for our new daughter. It's a word in the Psalms that is believed to mean "Pause and reflect," so her name literally means to pause and reflect on grace, as God has gifted us with SO MUCH. So, with that said, here are a few photos to pause and reflect on! Hate to cut this short, but she's a wee bit fussy and hungry sitting beside me at Starbucks as I type this :) So enjoy and welcome to the world, Selah!! We are SO GLAD you're here and that you're ours.

Dear Baby...

Dear Baby,

You probably won't know this, but I used to be a writer. Shocking, right? Ever since you began to grow in my belly, all my creative juices seem to have seeped out into the world around me. I look at all the beautiful things in the world and I want to capture them - with words, with pictures - but there isn't enough time in the day. Then I begin to think about the beautiful miracle that YOU are and I realize this is one story in my life that needs to be captured. I'm sorry it's taken me 5+ months to begin truly writing your story, but just know that your story was already being written by the Author of Life long before we knew about you.

Your daddy and I will celebrate four years of being married soon after you enter this world. It's been an amazing period in our life, and God has taught us so much and brought us so far. Someday we'll tell you about the health issues that preceeded you and how God worked on my heart from before we were married to prepare me to become a mom. He is PERFECT in his timing, let me reiterate that. All I knew before your Dad was that kids should be put off until I was much older and until after Daddy and I had had YEARS of time to ourselves, traveling and focusing on us. Can I be honest? I was terrified you'd appear sooner than I was (selfishly) ready. After years of health issues, though, I began to wonder if you'd ever arrive, and in God's infinite wisdom, he gave you to us.

When I found out I was pregnant with you, it was around 5:30 in the morning on a Saturday - the day before my birthday. I had been up about 6 times that night, anxiously wondering if I was pregnant and promising myself I would take a test when I woke up. However, since I kept waking up, I took the test ridiculously early in the morning and lo and behold - there was proof. To be honest - I was shocked. Some days I still am! I went into our bedroom and woke your dad up and said I needed to tell him something. Groggily, he asked if everything was OK and I said, "I'm pregant." Of course, since I frequently talk in my sleep (a fact I'm sure you'll be aware of someday!), your dad asked me if I was "crazy talking." I assured him I was not and that there would be a baby. He got up and went to the bathroom and came back and asked me again what I had said. When I once again told him I was pregnant, we were going to be parents, he finally realized I wasn't talking in my sleep - I was perfectly lucid - and he was going to be a dad.

We are so excited to meet you and find out whether you're going to be a little man or a little lady. (I definitely "feel" like you're all boy, but we shall see on your birthday!) I'm excited to have a name for you after we meet you, and I'm excited to begin learning all about you! There are definitely still times I struggle with picturing what life is going to look like in less than 4 months. Without knowing a gender, or a name, or a face or a personality, I wonder so much. Who are you? I know you like to dance in my belly in anticipation of me eating! You have also begun kicking my bladder - a fact I am less than thrilled about. You hopefully have my hair genes, which would explain the heartburn. What a blessing you are though - it's been a physically easy pregnancy with very little sickness (say no to Beyonce when you're older though!), and I'm so grateful you're taking it easy on me! Let's keep that trend going after you're born, mmmk?

I'm thankful you've started kicking to where Dad can feel you too, and I can't wait till you're old enough to play with your "big brother", Ben. He has no idea what's in store! If you can, get used to his barking now - you'll hear it a lot :/

I pray for you, VanderBean. I pray that you'll come to know God early in your life and avoid the heartaches of rejecting the Gospel. I pray that whether you're athletic (please choose soccer or basketball and rock at it!) or whether you're more creative, whether you're outgoing and gregarious or whether you're shy and reserved, that you would see your gifts and talents as blessings from the Lord to be used for His glory. I pray you find a Godly mate and marry early. Most of all I pray you grow up to love Jesus and take big risks for him. Your dad and I are trying to set that pattern in our life, and I hope it translates to you. Grow big (not TOO big yet) and strong, and know that your mama and daddy love you because of how Christ has loved us.

Much love,
Mama

Welcome

There's a song that apparently was originally done by Nina Simone, but in my mind, I hear it done by the Pussycat Dolls. Call me crazy or a product of my culture - either way, the lyrics are the same and they still apply.

"It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's a new life for me...And I'm feelin good."

Many of you who stumble upon this blog probably knew me pre-Denver. Maybe we were college friends, or you knew me in NC and read my blog all about newlywed life. Maybe you're a new local friend, in which case, you probably don't know a ton about me.

Since my husband and I moved to Colorado nearly two years ago (wow!), I have virtually stopped blogging. Blame it on the lack of internet at the house, a busier life, or a desire to be more intentional in relationships, thus leading me to develop real community in person vs. over the internet, but it's been at least a year and a half since I blogged with any continuity. Things changed drastically in my life and I stopped writing. Now, things are about to change drastically again, and I hope to jump back into writing once again.

So, as Nina Simone/Nicole Scherzinger sang: It's a new life for me.

To catch you all up very briefly - we moved from North Carolina to Colorado on a wing and a prayer and a trust that the Lord had called us to this place for a purpose. We quit jobs, broke our lease and headed west for a grand adventure. Since that point, God has revealed himself and his provision for us time, and time, and time again. It's been an amazing journey.

And now - we are about to embark on another journey, or rather several journeys that all dovetail. This month, we will close on our first home in downtown Denver. Approximately 4.5 months after that, we will then become parents for the first time. Big changes on the horizon for the Vanderburgs. The VanderHouse (a real actual HOUSE!) will, hopefully, be a place where people can find refuge and respite in the Lord. Our little family, we pray, will be hospitable and generous with the gifts God has given us.

This new blog, then, is a way to chronicle God's provision of this house, this child, this calling and this life. It might be filled with bitter ranting about not being able to paint the walls the color I want. It might be filled with helpless weeping as I ask questions about what it looks like to care for a child. I hope it will be filled with stories of how God is growing us in love for one another and most of all - love for him.

So, feel free to read and keep up with us here at VanderHouse Happenings.