What's up? Oh you know, bed rest.

This past week and a half was not what I thought it would be. I had envisioned daily walks with the littles during the gorgeous weather. I pictured working in my flower and vegetable gardens. I thought I'd bake some cookies for the kids to eat after school and tackle my To Do list.

And then a week and a half ago I started to feel achy in my lower back, just before dinnertime on a Wednesday. I napped, ate supper, went to bed early, and by 2 am I was in so much pain I could not sleep any longer. It felt like one long, solid contraction that would increase in intensity, making me nauseous and / or making me cry from the pain. Travis took me to the hospital, where I stayed for another day and a half. There were a couple of hard, scary moments but in the end I was able to come home with a safe and healthy 22 week old baby still growing inside.

But then came bed rest.

I didn't do a ton of typing but I did do a lot of internet browsing and when I found this Etsy shop I fell in love and immediately began making plans.

I have a little list of all the prints I'd like to buy, starting with this one:

A nod to OutKast for the bathroom.

This Chesterton print for the boys' room?

This pretty mermaid one

and this Cinderella quote for the girls' room

I'd put this quote in my living room because I so fully believe it and try to live it.

And for the kitchen, a little Julia Childs

and a couple wise words

about making the most out of the day to hang right on my newly bright white soffit.

This morning I'll be heading back to my midwife and I'm hoping there will be an ease-up on the bed rest, allowing me a little more freedom. (You cannot believe the amount of cobwebs I spotted in the house while lying around! They MUST come down!)

If you could all just say a quick prayer, throw a Hail Mary or Glory Be up for me and my unborn baby and our whole family, that would be so wonderful and I would greatly appreciate it. Thanks.


Oh and PS - this wasn't a sponsored post, I really do just love those prints!

A little catch up 7QT

Linking up with Kelly because she's the best.


1 - This song is on repeat at my house. Travis is not amused, but also can relate. Except I always went to Perkins with my friends - no Waffle House in Central Illinois.


2 - Thank you to everyone who came by last week and joined the link-up. It was so great having you here! I'm way behind on visiting all the blogs who linked up, but I will visit! Promise.

And thank you, too, for all the congratulations on the new baby. We really appreciate your prayers and your joy in our growing family.


3 - The good news is that my morning sickness has really backed off a bunch. I still have some crazy food aversions that suddenly jump start morning sickness-like feelings but that just makes me think I'm having a girl.

(I'm really hoping for a girl. I have a girl name all picked out. I can use those super cute, adorable clothes one more time. Travis hopes we have another girl and that she becomes a nun so he doesn't have three weddings to pay for.)


4 - I'm trying to do small things for low cost to keep me from feeling bad about the fact that I haven't been able to tackle as many things on my Summer To Do list as I had wanted. So I:

Took Teresa's dresser, moved her clothes to a cubby system that fits perfectly in her closet, and placed it under the mirror in the living room. It's supposed to have an entryway feel, which sorta works.

The top drawer currently holds swimming suits, towels, sunblock, goggles, beach towels, and swim diapers. In the winter these contents will be switched with the contents of the bottom drawer: gloves, hats, mittens, scarves, and the like.

The middle draw is where the diapers and wet wipes are kept because I no longer use a changing table - just the floor. The kids tend to wear the same pajamas and clothes until they're too dirty to be worn again. During the night the clothes are stored with the diapers, during the day the pj's are here. The living room is so much tidier because of this system!

The end table had been under the mirror, holding the book basket, but it was moved to the other end of the sofa:

From this angel it looks really full.... because it is really full. I promise things are shoved up against each other, and probably if I moved that rocking horse out it would be better, but the kids like to sit on it while they watch tv so it will stay. I do like having the end table - super handy.

The bookshelf was given a little sprucing up, and some more breathing room. I like it better this way - with empty space.

Many of the children's books that were in the living room were moved to the family room. My mom gifted me this oak bookcase, which I love and is really handsome. So far so good!

5 - I've been loving reading all the Edel posts and hearing from my friends how the conference went last weekend. When I attended Edel in Austin last summer it was such an amazing experience for me

Finding God in Shrimp and Grits
What a Great Party Can Teach You about Women in the Church
Edel is Like Fairy Dust and Other Revelations
The Edel Gathering Part I and Part II
Edel Gathering Recap
#edel15: My Family Survived on Frozen Pizza While I Ate Grits

That last link is to Kelly's blog This Ain't the Lyceum and it also includes a link-up for all the other posts. I wish everyone who wanted could have been there (I wish I could have been there!) but for various reasons it just wasn't meant to be, but I'm so happy for the women who were able to get away - who were able to dance and pray and chat and laugh and eat food they didn't prepare or have to clean up. I know Edel fills a need and I'm so grateful to God that Jen and Hallie are willing to put in all the hard work to make it happen.


6 - I picked up In This House of Brede by Rumer Godden and though I'm only 30 pages in I am really enjoying it. My friend Nancy gave me a copy, so shout out to Nancy for being so wonderful and generous!

7 - For those of us who need simpler, less expensive events, much closer to home I am so happy that Jenna, the founder and Fiat-ess of Blessed Is She has started organizing BIS Brunches. Hopefully you're already reading and finding encouragement in the daily devotionals, but did you know there are also regional Facebook groups? In them we chat, share prayer requests, discuss the devotions, and have started planning the brunches.

Right now there are brunches planned in Arizona, Illinois, Iowa, and Indiana but more are in the works. A Blessed Is She Brunch is such a great way to form community with our fellow Catholic women, and to do it in a way that is centered on Christ.

7QT - "Here It Goes Again"

A big Welcome! to everyone looking for this week's Seven Quick Takes link-up and many thanks to Kelly from This Ain't the Lyceum for letting me host this week. I hope you all feel at home here.

I usually start things off with a song, so let's jump right in.


1 - It's been more than two years since I've featured this song, but now is the time to bring it back. Long time readers and friends will hopefully remember what this means.


2 - If you're new-ish around here, well I don't want to leave you in the dark so I'll just tell you: 15 weeks today = due date of January 1, the Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God.


3 - This just may be why I was thinking about Marian names and asked Facebook for more ideas. There were some pretty good ones, too!


4 - It may also be why I've been drinking lots of Dr. Pepper and eating lots of McD's french fries, salads with Kraft Caesar vinaigrette dressing, and Jimmy John's Italian Nightclub sandwiches. It's also why just the thought of eggs, milk, lunchmeat, pickles, olives, salsa, tomatoes, and cheese slices made me gag for the last 3+ months.

God bless Travis for stepping up his game and being okay with cold cereal for dinner.


5 - It's also why I spent the last few months napping and sleeping in and laying around and not really blogging much at all. Morning sickness, it's a bummer.


6 - Badly stained, collapsing, expired, or just doesn't work any more - so it was with a lot of our infant items. Since most of our baby stuff was seven years old and had been well used by five kids we got rid of it.

So now I'd like to get some feedback from you guys. We have an extra crib and crib mattress but I'm hoping for a Moses basket to keep near the bed for the first few months (while we figure out just where in the world we can fit a crib in our 3 bedroom home with 8 people). I was looking at this one by Badger, but if anyone has any reasonably priced suggestions please let me know.

We also need a new highchair and (eventually) a booster seat so I was thinking of going with Summer Infant Delux Infant Booster. Thoughts?

Infant car seats are super expensive! Geesh. I want something light and would prefer something small (lots of carseats!), but maybe we'll go with this Cosco one. I know we're talking about my baby's safety, but I really don't want to spend $100+ on something that will be used for a few months, although these are affiliate links so maybe I'll get enough Amazon credit that I can buy whatever I want. ;)

And finally, every time I see one of my friends with a muslin blanket I feel even more affirmed in my judgement that swaddle blankets of 7 years ago were a joke, especially for my 9, 10, and 11lb babies. These new blankets are so big and lightweight and lovely. I'd like three.


7 - We have had some traumatic birth experiences in the past and so I would really appreciate prayers for a healthy, 8lb baby and an easy labor.


Thank you everyone for joining me today! If you're new here please feel to join the gang. You can get the posts via email, with Feedly, or with Bloglovin'. I'm most active on Facebook, but I also like to hang out on Instagram, and I always do Twitter chats when the latest episode of The Visitation Project airs Sunday nights.


And now it's your turn! Please, link up!

An InLinkz Link-up

There's More Than One Way to Be a Mom: A teenage mother

The author of my last guest post in the Mother's Day series has chosen to write anonymously but I still want to introduce you to this friend of mine. She is the mother to five children and has been happily married for sixteen years. A Catholic convert, she just celebrated her 15th anniversary of joining the church. YEAH!!! I will also add that she is incredibly wise, kind, and compassionate.

“Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.”

 Mother Teresa

As a teenager, my life was turned upside down when I became pregnant. I was a 'straight A' student from a Christian home (a good girl) and I was in trouble.   For four months, I hid my pregnancy from my family and my friends. I lived in denial, puked alone in my bathroom, cried myself to sleep every night, and tried to pretend like nothing was different about me.  I begged and pleaded that God would somehow make "this" all go away. I was alone and scared.

Outward appearances can be deceiving, I seemed to be a girl who had it all, but on the inside I was lonely, lacked confidence, and had very little self-worth. I believe that my parents were well intentioned in their parenting, but tired. My father worked nights and family finances were tight.  My mother often parented alone.  Life had been rough for them and their girls.  Quite often, I was allowed to do what I wanted, when I wanted, and with very little questioning as to whom I was with or what we were doing. This became the perfect recipe for a terrible crisis.

I will never forget the moment when my mother confronted me and I confirmed all of her suspicions.  Her little girl, the baby of the family, was having a baby of her own. I had bought into the lies of a young man who told me that my worth was in what I could give him- mainly sex. It shouldn't have been shocking when he suggested that I just have an abortion.  For my family and me, this was never an option. Regardless of the terrible mess I was in, my family and I held onto one sacred truth.  All life comes from God and is beautiful.

The first course of action was for my physical well-being and that of my baby.  My parents immediately made sure I was given proper medical care and attention so I could have a healthy pregnancy from that moment on.  There was a lot of discussion about how we would handle my pregnancy.  My mother wanted to send me away to a home for unwed mothers.  My father wanted me to stay home.  There was discussion about giving my baby up for adoption or me choosing to parent my child. We weighed the options carefully and I chose to stay home with my family and keep my child.

After the difficult decision was made, I became isolated from my school and my friends.  Actually, I no longer had friends. People laughed and stared, made rude comments, treated me like I was nothing but another statistic. I was ashamed and humiliated. I felt like a dirty failure and a poor excuse for a young woman.  I was sent to a special school for unwed, pregnant girls through the city's public school system.  It happened to be the same school where they sent the delinquent and problematic high school students - just separated by a floor. The girls there were often uneducated, unloved, and lived in poverty. These girls were not college bound, didn't know God, and had very little hope for a positive outcome or a hopeful future. I considered myself fortunate for the gift of my family, for the tutors who came to teach my accelerated learning classes, and for the women there who taught me basic mothering skills. I stayed at that school for my pregnancy and continued to attend there with my daughter until she was four months old.

My shame and humiliation didn't end when my pregnancy ended or when I left that school.  There was very little joy (outside of my immediate family) for the birth of my daughter. There were no baby showers and very few people visited me in the hospital. It wasn't a life celebrated.  If I dwell on this, it causes me a lot of pain.  I choose not to. I understand that no one wants to condone teenage pregnancy, but all I needed was a little joy.  I needed someone to celebrate with me because she was my baby.  I loved her.  I was proud of her.  I wanted to beam.  I wanted to show her off.   She was precious and cherished, regardless of the circumstances. 

I faced many challenges as a young mother.  I had a lot of broken relationships and a lot of emotional and spiritual wounds. People never stopped staring.  People never stopped the rude comments.  People still treated me poorly. Even to this day when I meet new people, some guffaw and proceed to tell me that I couldn't possibly have a daughter who is that old.  Throughout the years, I diligently took care of my daughter.  I finished school and graduated at the top of my class.  I went to college.  I made our lives better, but only with the help of God and his special graces. 

As I grew into womanhood, there were women and friends I encountered in my life who brought me closer to Jesus.  They loved me for who I am - a child of God.  They taught me that I am not defined by my failures.  Recently during a homily our priest asked two questions.  The first was, “Can you find joy in the unexpected?” The second was, “How can you bring the “living water” to those around you.  After reflecting, I realized that these women and friends had the courage to bring me the "living water" and to find joy. So I challenge you to ask yourselves, Can you bring the 'living water' to girls who are broken and in a crisis pregnancy? Can you help her find joy in the unexpected?

Some simple ways to do this....

            * Smile at her and look her in the eyes. Notice her for who she is, not for her failures and weaknesses.

            * Keep your comments to yourself.  Even the least offensive questions and curiosities can be hurtful. I've never met a young woman in a crisis pregnancy that didn't already feel enough shame and humiliation.

            * Ask her if she wants someone to go with her to doctor's appointments or pre-natal/birthing classes. Girls in crisis pregnancies are often lonely and afraid.

            * Celebrate the baby's life with a small gift; a baby blanket, a knit hat, assurance of your prayers for her, or a mother's prayer book.

            * Show her how to be a good mother.  You can do this by how you mother your own children.  If she is keeping her baby, she is watching and learning and really wants to be a good mom.  Show her virtuous parenting.

            * Offer to baby sit.  It can be very difficult for a young teenage mom to keep up with school work or participate in normal high school activities like playing an instrument, being in a choir, or playing sports.

            * Remind her that God is always good and she is always loved.

There's More Than One Way to Be a Mom - A Birth Mother's Story

Melissa and I became friends through various Bible studies and activities at our parish. She and her husband are both wonderful, hilarious people with three wonderful children, age 8, 6, and 3. Melissa writes:

My husband and I have also lost three children to miscarriages (two last year) and struggle with that loss continually. I am currently a stay-at-home Mom and love it. I have a degree in Zoology and enjoy birding, running, family vacations, hiking, and singing in our church choir. We also garden and can or freeze as much of our food as possible and I enjoy baking. I am a survivor of thyroid cancer and have been without a thyroid for 5 years now.

I am a birth mom to an adopted child. 

I have never been ashamed to speak of my experience but sometimes, I feel as if I am speaking about someone else’s life. Maybe the only way my mind has been able to deal with the pain of giving up my first child was to treat it like a story I am telling, rather than my own past.

I was eighteen and starting my second year of college when I discovered I was pregnant. My boyfriend of three years was the father and he was my first real boyfriend and the only other man I have been with besides my husband. I thought he was “the one” and that we were “meant for each other”…boy was I naive.
It was overwhelming news to find out that I was pregnant and unmarried. I was ashamed and scared. I know this will sound terrible, but in all honesty, I just wished (at that time) I would have a miscarriage. I felt trapped and knew it was only a matter of time before EVERYONE would know. I was also accepted to SIUC (Southern Illinois University - Carbondale) the next fall and my boyfriend was going to be attending a culinary school in Chicago. How were we going to raise a child from the opposite ends of the state while going to college?!

My Mom started having suspicions as my belly started to swell slightly - I was already 6 months along by that time. She scheduled my first appointment with an OB-GYN thinking I had endometriosis like my older sister. I think she suspected I was pregnant, but didn't want to admit to herself that her daughter was living in sin. When they took me to the exam room, the nurse came in and said I tested positive for pregnancy. I burst into tears and blurted out that I already knew and that I didn't know how to tell my Mom. The nurse was comforting and arranged for the doctor to meet with my Mom and myself in her office and break the news. My Mom seemed relieved to finally have it out in the open but my Dad didn't speak to me for days. My boyfriend’s parents weren't too thrilled either.

One thing that came to my mind immediately after that appointment (and seemed to be the only concrete thing to hold onto) was the decision to give this child up for adoption. This decision gave me peace. I really feel that it was God helping to make something good from something so bad. It was like that part of the poem “Footprints” where there is only one set of footprints in the sand, because God was carrying me. I also have three adopted cousins and knowing how much my aunts and uncles wanted those children and love them as if they were their own helped me to feel even more certain that this was the right thing to do.

My parents accepted and supported this decision but my boyfriend’s mother was against it. She wanted to raise the baby for me while I went to SIUC and if I insisted on going through with the adoption she said that no one in their family would ever know that I was pregnant. So, I didn't see his family for the next four months and basically felt like a “dirty little secret” and a whore. My boyfriend’s brothers kept asking why I wasn't coming to any holiday celebrations and we had to lie and say the roads were bad, etc. As if the situation wasn't bad enough, she had found a way to make it worse.

We met with a Catholic lawyer that was a friend of my Grandparents. I asked that the parents be Roman Catholic and that I receive pictures and updates at least once a year. We decided on a closed adoption because one of my aunts had been afraid for a long time that the birth Mom would try to come and take her baby back. I didn't want this couple to ever feel that way. I wanted them to be able to just give him all of their love and never have those fears or worries. The lawyer then took our family medical history and arranged all the details.

I had an easy pregnancy and I think it was God’s pity for me, knowing what I faced. I went into labor the night before I was going to be induced and gave birth to a healthy baby boy on February 2nd, 1999. The labor and delivery nurse was really rude to me when we first arrived. I think she just saw me as another teen mom. When she found out I was giving him up for adoption she really softened towards me and she told me that she herself was unable to have children and had adopted her child. Looking back, it is obvious that God puts certain people together to help each other through a tough situation.

They gave me a private room because I was in OSF (a Catholic hospital) and I was giving my baby up for adoption, perhaps a non-religious hospital would do the same. I spent the next two days just trying to memorize everything about him. We had his infant pictures taken and named him Timothy Jason.

Then on the third day the lawyer and his wife came to take him. They stayed for a little while, as if they weren't sure when the right time to take him was. It was like torture…I just wanted to scream “Just Do It Already!!! I Can’t Hold On Any Longer!” I waited until they left the room and the door closed before I collapsed sobbing. I didn't want to do this in front of them, knowing already that they felt terrible about taking him, being parents themselves. I collected my stuff and we left the hospital. I felt hollow. I felt like I was drowning.

The next day as I was sitting on the couch crying and looking at pictures we had taken in the hospital, my Dad sat down and put his arm around me and told me it was going to be alright. If you knew my Dad, you would know that this is totally uncharacteristic of him, but it was just what I needed. A few days later I went to the Peoria courthouse and stood before a judge declaring that I was giving up my parental rights to Timothy.

It was incredibly difficult to be around anyone who was pregnant or had a new baby for the first year or so. I felt so jealous of all of them. This was my first experience with motherhood. I felt robbed. Those feelings eased as time went by and my boyfriend and I grew apart and broke up. Our breakup was hard after being together for 5 ½ years and I had started to resent him for what I had gone through. We never spoke again and went our separate ways. As time passed and the pain subsided, talking about the adoption became much easier.

I received pictures and updates in the form of letters from his birth parents every year and learned that they had changed his name (I will continue to refer to him as Timothy for his privacy). I would send Timothy a birthday card each year and as my life changed (marriage, thyroid cancer, three half-siblings) I would send these updates along as well.

For the first fifteen years we continued to exchange information through the lawyer, but about a year ago we decided both families felt comfortable enough to exchange addresses and phone numbers to send things directly. Then one day last summer I answered an unexpected phone call from Timothy’s Mother saying that he was interested in meeting me. I was really surprised that it happened so quickly; I guess I had this idea he would wait until he was an adult and on his own to try to find me. We chatted for about fifteen minutes on the phone and exchanged a few emails working out the details of the meeting.

I was nervous, anxious, scared, relieved that he wanted to meet…you get the idea...a bundle of crazy emotions! I was also worried that I would disappoint him or he would become angry with me. Something else that happened unexpectedly was that all of those feelings I had buried, resurfaced with a vengeance and I have struggled with them off and on since. In fact, in the hours before that first meeting I experienced a horrible anxiety attack. All of that said, the meeting went very well and I couldn't have picked any better parents for Timothy! He asked me many questions and I apologized for my decision, but I also told him I know that it was the best thing I could have done for him, that I was not ready to be a mother at the time I had him, and how different his life would be if I had decided to keep him.

Timothy is now in his freshman year of High School at my alma mater! One other thing I should talk about is how difficult it has been to feel a connection with a 16 year old son, since the last time I saw him and held him he was only a few days old! I know that I received pictures all these years, but I still felt this strong connection to that newborn I had given birth to and held in my arms, and I have had a difficult time jumping from that to a teenager. He also closely resembles his birth father (with some of my features mixed in). This is something that I struggle with, due to the rocky breakup his birth father and I went through and the resentment I felt toward him. I now know I probably should have gotten some therapy to get past some of these emotions or to learn how to handle them better. 

We met again on his birthday in February of this year. It is a struggle for me, but I want to do this for Timothy and to help myself heal as well. I want him to know that he is where he should be and that he has a really great Mom and Dad! I hope that he has forgiven me for the decision I had to make and not feel some kind of an emptiness or void from all of this.

One last hurdle in all of this is telling my three kids about their half-sibling. I have waited to tell them until they were old enough to understand and I think the older two are now old enough. I am terrified of how this will change their view of me and their trust in me. I also don’t want this to affect how they feel about their future relationships. I don’t want them to think it is OK to participate in sinful acts because “Mom did it”.

I have also learned that with each lost child the pain is different. Even after going through the loss of Timothy to adoption, I had a hard time truly empathizing with someone who had lost a child to miscarriage until I had felt that pain first hand myself. Sadly, I have experienced this first hand through comments said to me when talking about my past. Some examples of things people said to me are: “I could NEVER give my child up for adoption!” (gee thanks) and “You never know WHAT (don’t you mean “WHO”?!) you are going to get.” (when referring to possibly adopting a child). Yes, these are exact comments that were said to me by friends or family. In fact, most of the most hurtful things that have been said, were said by people that are close to me and I think that is what has hurt the most. Therefore, I deeply regret any callousness I may have shown towards others who lost a child to miscarriage or adoption before me.

I didn't realize those 16 long years ago how this would affect the rest of my life. I was only able to see the short term outcome, the “solution” to my dilemma and I really couldn't imagine what this was going to feel like as a mother of three young kids. Now I can begin to see how far the ripples of my past have traveled and how many people it has/will effect…whether good or bad. I know that I gave someone a precious gift and it changed me forever. There is good and bad in everything and I am trying to find a balance again in all of this.

Seven Quick Takes and Sheen Novena Day 6

1 - Boom. Hilarious. Thank you, Facebook.


2 - Happy Feast of St. Nicholas, everyone! Last night St. Nick came and filled the kids' stockings. Everyone got new pj's, toothbrushes, and chocolate coins. (JF got a candy cane tube filled with Skittles.)

This morning we almost blew up the Catholic Meter when Ben excitedly pulled his coins out of his stocking and said, "St. Nicholas brought me this. THEY WOULD MAKE GREAT HOSTS!" and then ran off to get his play Mass kit.

He had to call it quits when Resa ate most of his coins, snatching them off the patent.


3 - Earlier I was with four Catholic friends. One of them admitted that she couldn't do something because she was pregnant. The others of us squealed and clapped with glee. Then another one admitted that she, too, was pregnant. More cheering and clapping. Then a third friend told us she was pregnant. Even more squealing and clapping and congratulating. Then I yelled out, "I'm not pregnant!" and everyone cheered and congratulated me.

Between all these pregnant friends of mine, and a recent call from another friend about her engagement I have been getting a lot of really great news lately. Praise God.


4 - Drastically changing the subject and tone now.
So this is true:

5 - And this is funny:

It also reminded me of my friend Kelly. She really is doing crazy runs - a bunch of 5ks to help raise money for SMA (spinal muscular atrophy) research. If you're looking for a good deed to do, please consider donating to her cause.


6 - I'm really very tired.


7 - Thanks so much for praying with me for the canonization of Venerable Fulton J. Sheen. I'm sorry this is so late in the day, but here's today's prayer.

Novena Day 6

 “Burning the candle at both ends for God’s sake may be foolishness to the world, but it is a profitable Christian exercise for so much better the light! Only one thing in life matters: Being found worthy of the Light of the World in the hour of His visitation. We need have no undue fear for our health if we work hard for the Kingdom of God; God will take care of our health if we take care of His cause. In any case, it is better to burn out than to rust out.” Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

Lord, even when tired and sick, Fulton Sheen worked unceasingly for your cause. Help us to learn how to tirelessly work for You through Fulton Sheen. Help us to know that there is no rest unless it is in You.

Prayer of Canonization, Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Prayer of Canonization

Father, source of all holiness, You raise up within the Church in every age men and women who serve with heroic love and dedication. You have blessed Your Church through the life and ministry of Your faithful servant, Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen. He has written and spoken well of Your Divine Son, Jesus Christ, and was a true instrument of the Holy Spirit in touching the hearts of countless people.

If it be according to your Will, for the honor and glory of the Most Holy Trinity and for the salvation of souls, we ask You to move the Church to proclaim him a saint. We ask this prayer through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen

Many thanks to Jen for hosting!

Eight Images That Tell You Everything You Need to Know About This Blog

Jennifer Fulwiler posted a hilarious list of the ten images that best represent her blog and what she writes about. She encouraged other bloggers to do the same. 

Challenge happily accepted.

I went through the pictures from ye olde blog and found the ones I thought were the best representations of what I write about. So here goes...

{ a good example of this sentimentality }

{ read this }

{ this and this are my two faves on this topic }

{ Not necessarily the ones above, but I do get geeky about things. Like Lost, Doctor Who, and Sherlock.}

{ Peter Mark }

 { Most related post }

{ zombies in general }

{ and I love it and hate it }

Jen was right, it was a lot of fun to do this post. Let me know in the combox if you wrote one too.

Joseph Peter's Birth Story

I have heard many times that epidurals make it harder to remember. For me this was definitely true. I want to have all the minutes recorded so I can look back over this story and remember all the pain and joy and words during my labor and after the delivery of Joseph Peter. But I just can't. Every now and again I go back and reread the birth stories of my other kids and it is good for my memory and heart. I'm a little sad that I won't be able to do it for Joseph and I hope he doesn't feel short-changed if some day in the future he compares his birth story to his siblings' and sees the shocking lack of detail in comparison. It'll be adding insult to to the injury that while L has a baby book with pictures and all kinds of things written down I didn't even bother buying him one.

Alas, future Joseph Peter, please forgive your mother who needed pain medication and therefore couldn't remember much of anything about your birth story! I already feel guilty about it. Alright already! I'll bake you some cookies to make up for it! I'm sorry!

Ahem... Let me pull myself together...

On Tuesday, July 9th I was awakened at 4am  not by contractions or my water breaking but by a phone call. I was scheduled to arrive at Methodist Hospital at 6am to begin my pitocin. Instead I was told to stay at home because they were full and would call me when a bed opened up. So back to sleep I went for a few more hours. When I did climb out of bed I told Travis I'd like to go to the mom's group at my church so they could pray over me one last time. It was a special treat since I would have otherwise missed that chance.

Shortly after I got home Trav left to run an errand but had forgotten something and had to turn around. Just as he was pulling up to the house I called to tell him we were ready to head in. It was 12 noon.

I made him take my picture.

We got to hospital at 12:30 and began pit around 2pm. I sat in bed, waiting for the drugs to do their thing. Nothing happened and nothing happened and nothing happened. I was getting really hungry and so we talked with my midwife and decided to turn it off at 8pm so I could have supper. My food finally came at 10pm and shortly after I went to sleep, ready to begin again in the morning.

Wednesday morning the nurse came in, woke me up, and began my pit again. I tried walking the halls but it's pretty boring when you're being monitored and can only go so far. Up and down the hall again and again, pushing my iv, wearing two hospital gowns that were humongous. This time I asked for a birthing  ball so I could give birth that day. I bounced on that sucker for hours which helped bring the baby into position and helped me dilate, admiring the beautiful bouquet of flowers my mom sent to help encourage me.

In addition to the flowers I was also able to look out my window and have a perfect view of the back of St. Mary's Cathedral. I had so much turmoil throughout the pregnancy and it brought me a great deal of peace to have that view. I would often gaze that the spot where I knew the tabernacle was and pray to Jesus. Even though He was blocks away in the Blessed Sacrament I felt so close to Him and it felt like an answer to prayer.

Contractions began to pick up and we decided it was finally time for an epidural around 3pm. Travis and I watched a video where the woman said her husband was with her in the room as he support while she got the epidural. After the video was done and the anestesiologist arrived Travis was told to leave. Neither of us liked that and I protested that the video said he could be there but it wasn't enough and he was kicked out for hospital policy.

Getting the epidural was the worst part. I'm super sensitive in my back and tried explaining this to the anestesiologist. "I wll jump - you should touch my back before you touch my back. I'm like a horse, you need to keep a hand on me at all times." Everyone laughed and I said I was serious.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my nurse right in front of me, holding my shoulders. I gripped her arm and apologized for the bruises I was possibly leaving on her upper arms. At one point I had shooting pain going diagonally down from the spot where the epidural entered my back to the spot in my right hip that had bothered me all pregnancy. The pain was incredibly intense, made worse by the man with the needle jiggling things in my back. Or that's what it felt like.

When the epidural was in I laid on my right side and they propped up my legs. Travis came back in and we were alone. I started to cry. Honestly, despite how wonderful and professional everyone was getting the epidural was horrible for me and I felt scared. After the nine months of pregnancy which were really difficult for me emotionally and mentally I was so worried I wouldn't be able to give birth, that when it came to the moment I wouldn't be able to handle it. I was worried for another dead baby. I was worried the epidural wouldn't work and I would still feel the pain.

Travis sat by my bed and held my hand. He calmed me and reassured me. And he asked me what we would name the baby if he was a boy. I had known the girl name since the positive ept but we had never decided on a name for a baby boy, though we were leaning towards Joseph.

"What will Joseph's middle name be?" Travis asked and I smiled at his confidence that the baby was a boy. We went over the possible middle names again: Andrew? Thomas? Kolbe? Travis suggested Peter and I immediately loved it.

The flowers from Mom. 

Joseph for St. Joseph and also a nod to a family member I was once close with. And Peter for St. Peter but also for our first child, Peter, who I miscarried. I was touched that Travis had thought of the name and I smiled at him, so grateful for the man I'd married.

Transition finally began around 6pm. My midwife had really wanted me to be able to have feeling while I was pushing. She was afraid that the baby would get stuck (like two of my previous ones had) and she wanted me to be aware of my body in case that happened. So we turned the epidural meds down, though not off.

It was horrible.

There I was in transition, feeling incredible pain, and pretty much having a panic attack. I was laying on my left side to help the baby descend and my left hip seemed to be the epicenter of every contraction. I began banging the side of the bed and yelling at people.

"I cannot do this!"
"Why are you making me do this?!"
"I can't feel this pain!"
"We need to do a c-section."
"I CANNOT DO THIS!!!!"

When I asked about the c-section I was told that there was already a woman going in for a c-section and they had to keep the other room open for an emergency.

"This is an emergency! I can't do this!" I yelled.

"No, it's not, Bonnie. If you think you need a c-section I'll call Dr. K- but we will have to wait."

Dr. K- was called. In the meantime I begged them to turn the pain meds back up. The pain was too intense and the memory of the horrific pain from birthing Resa was ever present. I knew that if I had to continue to feel the pain I would really truly not be able to handle it.

The anesthesiologist came back into the room and I banged on the bed and yelled, "LISTEN TO ME!" The anesthesiologist stopped in his tracks and said, "Yes. What is it?" in the tone of a slightly scared boy. (He usually is on the OR floor and not the LD floor. So he's not used to laboring women screaming at him.)

"I cannot feel this and you have to do something to make the pain go away!"

And then he did. A shot of Lidocaine to get me through until the upped epidural kicked back in and I fell asleep during contractions, during transition. It was amazing. *This* is why women use drugs during childbirth!

I could feel him coming down and I told my midwife I felt a little like pushing though it wasn't time to push push. For about 30 minutes I would doze, wake up with a contraction, bear down a little bit, and doze again.

In the last 10 minutes the real pushing happened and while I could feel lots of pressure I felt no pain. It was exactly what I needed so I could safely deliver the baby and not completely lose control and have a panic attack.

As his head began to crown I was still on my left side but my midwife and nurses flipped me onto my back and hoisted my knees up and to my shoulders. Dr. K- whispered to my midwife, "That head just keeps coming," because it was so big. Just like Resa he got stuck on my pubic bone and the nurse had to push her fist down to free it. A good push and his head was born and one more push and he was born at 8:35pm.

While I am *so* glad I had the epidural and couldn't feel the pain I did really miss the awesome sensation of delivering him. If you've ever given birth naturally you'll know what I mean about that overwhelmingly glorious feeling of "He's OUT!" the moment the baby is completely delivered.

The next thing I remember was Travis' face near mine, a look of victory on his face as he said, "Joseph Peter is well."

"He's a boy?" I said as they passed him up to me.

I guess they had time to put a hat on him first.

 All of a sudden a man with curly dark hair was standing next to me and looking at my naked body and my naked baby. I asked who he was and was told he was a pediatrician to make sure the baby was okay but I really felt like he should have at least been introduced and I should have been covered up before he came in.

I don't remember much of what happened next. Everyone commented on how big he was and we wondered about how much he would weigh  Joseph was weighed, and was a whopping 11lbs 4.5oz.

Proof that he weighed that much.

I made more comments about how my legs felt, pictures were taken, people were texted and called, and I found out that one of my nurses knew my very good friend Sr. Miriam with the Sisters of Life.  I was then moved to another room, which was way not as nice as the room I had labored in, we found out Joseph had jaundice, and then we spent 4 more days at the hospital. They finally were ready to discharge me but Joseph wasn't well enough to leave. So they set me up pretty in a room where on-call doctors usually sleep. I hobbled about, was highly praised by nursery nurses for having delivered such a big baby and not tearing, made small talk with the nurses and doctor, and I watched Stephen Fry's America on Hulu.

Not the best family picture but it's all we've got.

When he finally came home I was so, so happy.

L, B, and J meeting Joseph for the first time. T was napping. Had she been awake the picture would probably be even worse, if you can imagine that.

Joseph Peter is almost 3 months old and he is a joy. He's a good sleeper, a good eater, and a happy boy. Oh you should see him giggle and smile! Every time I hold him I pray, "I did not think I should have another baby. I did not think I could do this. But look at this great gift You have given me. You have been so good to me."

Newborn Joe and his blue eyes

I adore those baby fingers!

Such a serious sleeper.

PS - Having a planned induced, medicated hospital birth was very different than my home births (obviously) but even my non-medicated hospital birth with Resa. A lot of people have wondered which I liked better and I can honestly say that I am grateful for having experienced all of them. My home births are still my favorite but I needed to be in the hospital for Resa and Joseph's births. Every birth is different and may need something different for every woman, right? That's not a bad thing. But I am VERY glad I had the pain meds for Joseph. I actually wish I would have had them for Resa's. You can read more thoughts on this at Team Whitaker.

PSA: Never ask a woman when she's due

Recently I've had several people ask me when I'm due.

And not just people but women. And not just women but skinny women. I don't know if they're so thin that they're not getting the nutrients to help their brains think through things but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. They're probably not bad people, it's just they're starved and can't think clearly.

Because I'm not due. I'm fat. Just fat.

Thank you, Skinny Woman, for looking at my body and assuming that there must be a gestating baby in my womb because my belly is so round. And I know, I know that I'm still wearing maternity jeans and dresses so it's almost like you're being set up and it's not fair. But let me explain something to you:

Some women have the horrible genes that make them carry their weight in their mid section. We few, we unfortunate few, are known as apples. Or barrels. Or squares. Or constantly 6 months pregnant. Or fat.

And when you encounter us you should NEVER ask when we're due.

In fact never ask any woman ever when she's due with two exceptions:

1 - If she just told you she's pregnant.
2 - If the baby is crowning. But even then it's not a good idea.

When you, Skinny Woman, ask me when I'm due and I have to tell you that I'm not it's embarrassing for both of us. And I can tell by the look on your face that you feel really, really bad and probably you should. The remorse you feel for having asked such an innocent, well meaning but completely thoughtless question means you will probably never again ask another woman when she's due. So I'm glad I can help out my fellow Apples.

Yesterday I had the privilege of speaking at a local moms' group, sharing the story of my son's alleged miracle. They wanted me to provide a bio for them to use to introduce me. I gave them this:

Bonnie Engstrom is from central Illinois and lives in G----- with her husband, Travis, the physics teacher at --- High School. They have 6 kids, one in Heaven and then 5 aged 5 and under. Bonnie is currently NOT pregnant and therefore drinks a beer almost every day.

Please notice the last sentence. I didn't include that to be funny. I included that so everyone there would know that I am fat, not pregnant, and they shouldn't ask me when I'm due.  It's too bad that as women were gathering and therefore before I had been introduced a woman asked me when I was due. If only she waited five more minutes...

And I know, Skinny Women, I know that you're just being nice and trying to carry a conversation. And you can probably guess how I feel about my body.

I pretty much hate it. I am embarrassed of all the weight I've gained over the last 6 pregnancies. I'm ashamed of the way my body so boldly communicates my lack of self control. I am ashamed of how I look and it's getting to the point where I sometimes consider skipping out on social events because I want to be unseen. I dress in the dark or in the closet so my husband cannot see my naked body. I don't like my kids to touch my soft, round belly and I'm afraid of the day when they learn that in our culture their mom is not beautiful because she is fat.

That innocent, well-intentioned question of "When are you due?" runs me through all those feelings and thoughts and it's a perfectly good way to ruin an otherwise perfectly good day.  Just don't do it.

Happy Feast Day, Ye Olde Blog*!

Let me fess up about something.

Amanda, a friend of mine who does not blog but doles out her wisdom, humor, and wonderfulness the old fashioned way - through personal interactions, gave me the name for my blog. For a long time I wrote under the title "Learning to Be a Newlywed" and then without having learned all my lessons I was no longer a newlywed and it was time to move on.

Amanda's clever title was (I think) mostly a reference to my son JF (Short version of that story: JF was a stillborn because of a knot in his umbilical cord, but he amazingly came back to life after being dead for 61 minutes and miraculously is okay thanks to the intercession of Ven. Sheen. The Vatican is looking into it as a possible *real* miracle that will get Sheen beatified. More info here.)

I loved the title because it perfectly went along with what this blog has always been about: me figuring out my vocation, working out my salvation with fear and trembling, having it all untangled for me by the grace of God and the help of my loved ones. It also made me think of an image I had seen of our Blessed Mother before.

I googled "Mary untying knots" and sure enough there she was, in a beautiful painting. I read about the devotion and I felt like it was a perfect fit for my blog and my life.

After I began blogging under Mary, Undoer of Knots' protection I also learned that many Catholics who struggle with infertility have a devotion to her. I found that especially touching since I had been praying for such couples for a long time in honor of my miscarried son, Peter. I called it "for Pete's sake" and usually ran it on the 15th of each month because he was due on January 15th.

And now we have Pope Francis, whose devotion to Mary under this title has brought even more attention to the Undoer of Knots.

Today I was happy to Catholic Cuisine share some ideas to celebrate today, September 28th being a day suggested to commemorate Mary under this title. I thought it would then also be a fitting day to reinstate my "for Pete's sake" prayer ministry.

As you may know, my last pregnancy was very difficult for me and that was followed by postpartum depression. That led to me barely being able to pray at all. I tried to, I really did, but offering up my suffering was incredibly difficult and because of that I didn't do a "for Pete's sake" for a very long time. Lately though I've been feeling much better and I once again feel called to pick up this small ministry of mine. I've therefore added a button on my sidebar and a tab at the top of my site. If you or someone you know needs prayers related to infertility or the loss of a child please head to that section of the blog and let me know about it. I will pray with Our Lady and trust that the knots in your hearts, wombs, and lives will be untangled.

But today is a feast day so let's not be sad. Let's pray for our pope, buy some Twizzlers, tie them in knots, and celebrate!

Happy Feast Day everyone!


*I always refer to my blog as "ye olde blog" because I'm lame like that. Thanks for reading anyways.

Why Give Birth at Home?

I interrupt this break to let you all know that I was honored to guest post at Team Whitaker last week during her childbirth series.

Kathryn was good enough to round up a few ladies to share our different perspectives in her HDYDI: Choose a Birth Plan series. Dianna discussed an unmedicated, natural birth, Lisa shared her story on a standard hospital birth, and I talked about home birth, along with my progression from a natural homebirth to an unmedicated hospital birth to an induced, medicated hospital birth.

You can read my post by clicking here. And I hope you check out the entire series - there's a lot of good insight from my fellow mamas.

Seven Quick Takes - the Joseph Peter edition

1- What does this song have to do with me giving birth? Practically nothing but in my odd little mind it's related. Tuesday morning I did not wash my hair, opting instead to save up all the greasiness for the post-delivery shower so I'd feel even more magnificently clean. As I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and pinned back my bangs I noticed that the wispy fly-aways on the top and sides of my forehead were curled and flying away like crazy - like, if you will, the wings of a bird. And that, of course, made me think of a random British ska pop song from the early 1980's.

2 - Here he is, Joseph Peter. He's so handsome, even with that bruised, purple forehead. 

He is named for St. Joseph, whom Travis has a strong devotion to. Joseph also happens to be the confirmation name of our son's great grandfather, grandfather, and father. It's also his uncle's middle name.

Peter is for his older brother and also for St. Peter.

We also like that his initials are a little nod to one of our favorite popes, JPII. 

3 - After all kinds of rigamaroll Joseph was born at 8:35pm on Wednesday, July 10th. He's 21.5" long and he weighed 11lbs 7.4oz. This time I had an epidural and it made a huge difference. 

Proof that he weighed that much.

4 -  This is me before I went to the hospital to be induced. I am big, of course, but there is no way I am as big as when I was pregnant with Resa (who weighed 11lbs 9.5oz). We all thought this baby would be 10 lbs but no way did we expect another 11 pounder. No way. 

5 - Here's Travis holding his son, right after birth. They both look so handsome, I think. In the background you can see the card L made for me to take to the hospital and the flowers my mom sent me. Both are so lovely.

6 - As you probably know, I was really scared about this delivery. I know so many friends (online and in real life) were praying for us over a matter of days and even months. We are so very, very grateful and I believe the view from my hospital bed was one of the ways God answered your prayers and helped to bring me peace. Those two spires are St. Mary's Cathedral and I loved looking at it and knowing that Jesus was right there, in the tabernacle. I felt very close to God every time I glanced that way.

7 - Joseph and I are still at the hospital. We're both doing really well but just when we thought we'd get to go  home last night some lab results came back saying he has a high risk for jaundice. So right now he's camping out under the lights and I'm waiting for Travis to get back from home with some clean underwear so I can shower. 

On that note, I leave you with baby toes and a link to my list of things I said while in labor.

Thank you, Jen, for hosting and for the well wishes!

Nine Months of Doing it Wrong

I have written and rewritten this post at least a hundred times in my mind and several times on the blog. Every version seems wrong and in the end I've decided that this is what it all comes down to:

Ever since we learned I was pregnant with this baby I have been afraid and angry.

I have been angry at myself for sucking at nfp (because really when you keep trying to do something and the opposite keeps happening then really you do suck at what you're trying to do). I have been afraid of the long abstinence that will come after this baby's birth.

I have been angry at families with kids spaced every 2-3 years who have tried to tell me that I don't suck at nfp because, really, they just don't know how I feel and their well intentioned cheerleading is actually painfully isolating. I have been afraid that they're actually right and that while God is blessing me with all these kids spaced so close together I'm allowing myself to feel overwhelmed instead of being grateful and joyful.

I have been angry with God for this abundance of fertility and for creating sex and marriage and bodies to have a specific type of meaning and truth and beauty. I have been afraid that when the Christian couples I know say they only want three kids or praise their tubal ligation that I am their reasoning, proof, and confirmation.

But mostly I am afraid that this birth will be traumatic like Resa's and JF's. I am afraid of the physical and emotional pain. I am afraid of another stuck baby, breathless baby, lifeless baby.

And, in another sense of the word, I am afraid that for the past nine months I have been doing it all wrong. Instead of casting my concerns to God I have mostly stopped praying except for grace before meals and "Lord, have mercy." Instead of offering up the pain and suffering I have wallowed in it, building up the fear and worries. Instead of choosing to hope and trust I have lived in the dark and embraced the grief.

None of this has gotten me anywhere. On Tuesday, July 9th I'll arrive at the hospital a little before 6am to be induced at 39 weeks. In an effort to birth a ten pound baby instead of an eleven pound one I won't wait for my body to do it's thing. In an effort to not feel the pain I will have my first medicated birth. I no longer trust my body or myself and I am going into labor still very afraid.

I wonder what would have happened had I actually spent these past nine months praying and working with God through these emotions. Would I have peace?
And what if I had spent these nine months offering up my struggles for others? Would my part in redemptive suffering have brought healing to an infertile couple or peace to a tumultuous marriage?
What if I had joyfully accepted my fertility - which is both blessing and a burden for me - would my witness mean others would be more open to the gift of life?
What if instead of nurturing fear and anger for these past nine months I had spent my days whispering, "Jesus, I trust in You," and, "Thank You, God, for these great gifts"? What eternal good could I have done had I chosen faith, hope, and love?

I know that this baby is a blessing and fruit of a happy, healthy marriage. I know that when I hold this baby in my arms for the first time I will be amazed and the love I already feel with magnify. I know that my Lord is all good and that He loves me and will forgive me for any sins in these past nine months. I am sorry that I didn't appreciate the towering positives from the very beginning.

This is my attempt at humor.

And if I could ask just one small thing, please pray for me, my baby, and that all goes well on Tuesday. Thank you.

Here's a little update:
7QT: the JP edition

Related posts:
No Sex for Months
Kids are Great! and No Sex for Months Part II
So We're All in this Together