My Selfishness Hurts

Have you ever been so caught up in your own immediate life that you unintentionally hurt someone you really love, I mean really love, by your actions or your inaction? I'm pretty sure I do it more often than I realize. But, right now, is not one of those times where I don't realize it--because I keenly feel how much my inaction has hurt one of the greatest men I know.
Exact days do not usually mean anything to me. My birthday, my anniversary, Thanksgiving, Mother's Day, and other celebrated days just aren't that important to me on the actual day. We can celebrate on another day, besides the actual day, and I am happy. Well, with that mentality, comes a lack of thinking that not everyone is like me in this. And well, they shouldn't be--I think days should mean more to me and I should think about others more.
You see, yesterday was Father's Day and I did not call my Daddy. I didn't send a card. I didn't get him a gift. I didn't do anything. Nothing.
I celebrated Scotty as a father on Saturday with breakfast and dinner. I didn't get him a card. I didn't get him a gift. But I made him a yummy breakfast and dinner. I did something.
Then Sunday came and I told Carter to wish Scotty a "Happy Father's Day." We went to church and listened about family relationships. We watched a video of fathers and their children. I cried. All the while, I was not thinking about my own daddy, but rather about me and Scotty raising our own kids and about Scotty being a good daddy and me being a good mama. I was only looking at the here and future. Not once did I look back, not once. This is so shameful to say. It breaks my heart that I did not think about my daddy.
One might suppose that I just do not have fond memories so I suppressed any thoughts of him. Oh, on the contrary. If you only knew my Daddy! My heart breaks as I put myself in his shoes: on the day set aside to honor, praise and remember our fathers, my child did and said nothing. How can I make that up to him? How can I convince him that he means more to me than any day could bring? That he is so special to me, even though on the day I should have remembered his greatness, I didn't? How will he ever believe what I am about to say? I don't know. I just hope that he has grace to extend towards me, his selfish daughter, to know that I love him dearly and I treasure him.
So, let me tell you about my daddy...
He is a man who always wants to provide. He works hard, long hours to do his job well. He is not afraid of sweating and getting dirty. He has sacrificed more than most people. He had an incredibly difficult upbringing and yet, he raised us so differently than his own life. He does not complain. He never stops trying to fix things and make things right. He knows his short-comings and yields them to God daily. He is an amazing story-teller. He is as committed to the Word of God as any man I know. Every morning growing up (ok, almost every morning), I know he was up in his special place meeting with God (I could see the lamp on in the darkness), whether that be the dining room table, the living room, the wing-backed chair or on occasion the front porch. His Bible was a worn, tattered, leather-cracking brown one, not because he didn't take care of it, but because he couldn't put it down. He is an absolute doer--and we have needed that so much in our life. He can do anything handy--electrical, building, plumbing, landscaping, roofing, gadget fixing--everything. We NEVER called anyone to come fix things (except maybe the a/c), Daddy always did it. He is rational. He is logical. He has good eye-hand coordination. He is a planner. He is organized. He is on top of life. He has taught me so much: He taught me how to throw a baseball...hard. And catch a baseball...even harder. I learned to love science from him. He taught me to trust God, even when life is tough. He taught me that family is always worth fighting for. He taught me that a life of holiness is always worth pursuing, even when we fail over and over again. He taught me that God can take something bad and make it into something good. He showed me how a man should love his wife and constantly pursue her. He taught me how to swing a hammer, use a circular saw, and raise walls. He taught me the difference between the three wires in an electrical cord. He walked me through changing a four-pronged plug to a three-pronged plug on a dryer. He taught me how to feel for people and be compassionate to their needs and feelings. He is such a feeler.
And to this amazing feeler, I have hurt, by not honoring him on the day set aside for him. But, I want the people in my world to know, that my Daddy is a man after God's own heart. He desires Truth in his inmost being! He should be honored above all fathers, not because he didn't fail, because he did at times. But rather, he should be honored because he never gave up on me and us, his kids. His love reminds me of a greater love--the love of my heavenly Father.
I am heartbroken again now to think of how many Sabbaths (days set aside for God) have I not taken the time to honor God, my Father. How He must feel a bit like my daddy felt yesterday--"it's my day, why didn't anyone call?" It's not because we don't care or we don't love you--it's because we are too busy and too selfish. I am so sorry, Daddy. I did not mean to hurt you. I confess my selfishness and am pleading with God to strengthen me to look beyond myself every day so that I do not unintentionally hurt people and so that I do not hurt Him either. In a way, I am glad I forgot, only because it is making me more aware of how what I do impacts other people. So many times, I just brazenly do what I do with no consideration of others because I am so determined and set in what I think and believe. But this is not of God. I can only imagine the number of other people whom I have hurt because of my selfishness. I am truly sorry.
So Happy Father's Day, Daddy, one day late. But know, no day can hold the honor that I have for you. And know, I will never forget you on Father's Day again. You have molded me into who I am and I am grateful. May my selfishness decrease, so that God's abundant love and compassion can increase!

The continued birth story...

Well, I would apologize that it has taken me so long to finish my labor story, but I don't think anyone needs an apology; I would think you all understand.

From where I left off in my previous post, I had been laboring for just over 6.5 hours at home and my contractions were 10 minutes apart and quite painful.

So at 1:45 am on Monday March 21, I walked into my guest bedroom to awaken my Mama. "They are 10 minutes apart and I am doing alright right now, but soon, I am going to need help to get through a contraction." She and Daddy began to think about getting up. As I walked back to my room, another contraction came. And then within 7 minutes, another contraction. I woke Scotty up saying, "They have just gotten closer, I think we should get up and go to the hospital." He was up. And then back into my parents room to tell them it was definitely time to get up.

So there it was 2 am, we are all scurrying about, getting everything together to head to Florida Hospital Altamonte and my contractions were coming one right after the other, so probably within 2 minutes apart. Of course, it was because I was moving around so much, but still, just a little unnerving.

Once outside came the decision of which car to ride in. I was in a whole lot of pain and needed to be on my hands and knees. So I went up to Scotty, pressed against his chest and asked, "Can I ride in the van? Would you feel like I was not choosing you?" And my gracious husband said, "Of course not, ride in the van."

I don't think I could have made it to the hospital if I had ridden in the PT Cruiser. And poor Carter would have really been struggling with my moans!

In the van, the contractions continued every 2-4 minutes. It's a 35-40 minute drive to the hospital. And boy, it was a painful ride. Every contraction forced me on my hands and knees in the back bucket seat that had been laid down. Sitting or being confined at all brought such an increase in pain! My back labor was awful, awful.

When we reached the hospital, I climbed out of the van and stood beside it to breathe through a contraction so that I could actually talk to the woman inside at the desk instead of moaning at her. Of course, upon walking in she knew I needed labor and delivery. She poked her head into another side office and I heard the triage nurse ask, "Has her water broken?" When I responded no, she said she would be out in a couple minutes.

Here comes an educational soapbox.

80% of women's water does not break on its own before contractions begin (or some high percentage like that). Unlike what is portrayed in movies and in very common practice, the breaking of the water is not the best thing for mother or baby. On occasion, stripping the membrane or breaking the water does induce labor. And then again, on many occasions it does not do anything except put the mother on a time limit of 24 hours to get the baby out or else off to a c-section. Optimal baby delivery is that the amniotic sac stays intact until the mother is ready to push the baby out. There are several good reasons for this (now, that being said, the water can and does break on its own prior to labor beginning and there is nothing you can do about that). One, the amniotic sac is a safe place for the baby where bacteria and germs cannot get into easily. Two, it is a protective covering over the baby through contractions (not that I know if it absorbs some of the squeezing or not, I have no idea). And finally, the fluid allows the baby to sit "comfortably" in the womb without the baby's weight interfering with the umbilical cord (this is critical and the most important in my book). My sister-in-law has a friend who had her water broken and the baby sank down on top of the umbilical cord while the woman was not fully dilated, which led to a 6 minute c-section with no medicine to save the baby. Scary. Moral of the story: eat well to build a strong amniotic sac that won't break on its own. Then that is one more risk you don't have to be concerned with during labor and delivery.

Off soapbox.

So after another contraction or two, out comes the triage nurse to escort me to the birthing area. It was about a 200 yard walk, maybe. She wanted to give me a wheelchair. I declined because the thought of sitting sounded more miserable than walking! I made it rather well to the birth floor. Moving was very good. Still was very bad.

Once in the double doors of delivery, nurse Angela met us with some paperwork (I came to love her--wonderful woman and nurse. Just wonderful)! By this time, it was probably about 10 after 3 am. So to the room we went and my vitals were taken. She checked my cervix (the opening where the baby comes out for you young'ns or those that don't know) I was 6-7 cm dilated and almost 100% effaced. That was pretty far along in the labor process for me (as an aside, the cervix opens up at its widest to a wopping 10 cm, think small orange. And the cervix starts out like a thick tube that has to thin out (efface) to the depth of a thin plate). Thus I was 6 cm and thin as a plate.

So after she checked me, I was hooked up to the baby monitoring (fetal monitoring). Now, most hospitals require constant fetal monitoring, which if it is not wireless can prevent mobility. Thankfully and as I had researched, Florida Hospital Altamonte had wireless monitoring AND intermittent monitoring, meaning, if I didn't want to wear the monitor all the time, the would just do it for short periods at a time every hour or so. BUT, for the first 20 minutes, I had to be monitored. Talk about miserable. Having to lay in the bed for that 20 minutes was terrible. I was on my left side and stayed there. Why I didn't move around more, I don't know. I think I thought I would mess up the monitoring and I would have to go longer. Let's just say next time, I will move around some even when I am hooked up.

After the 20 minutes of painful monitoring was over, I jumped up to my hands and knees. Someone asked for a birthing ball. I never saw it. My midwife, Cathy Rudolph, had just delivered a baby hours earlier, so she was awakened again for our baby. She arrived around 3:45 am. Once she checked me (I was at 8 cm then) I told her I thought the baby was in the wrong position--posterior--with the head facing my front and not my back. She made me lay down on my back (again, painful) and felt my abdomen. She agreed. So in she went again to feel the baby's head. She took two fingers on either side of the baby's head (keep in mind the baby is not so low that you can see it; it is still higher up in me) and tried to turn the head. I heard her say, "I can turn this baby's head." She then told me what the game plan was. So for 5 contractions I labored on my hands and knees with my butt up in the air as high as I could get it. The goal of this: the baby to come out of my pelvis area back up towards my ribs so that it could re-enter the pelvic region correctly, hopefully. So through 5 contractions we went. My sweet Mama rubbing my lower back constantly through a contraction (because the back pain was immense) and Scotty laying across the bed at my head gently whispering and rubbing my neck. I cannot begin to describe to you the absolute pain of contractions and back labor pains. But, I found myself self-talking saying, "I can do anything for a minute or two." Because once a contraction ended I could rest for a minute. And then came another one.

After the 5 contractions on my hands and knees, off to my left side did I roll for three contractions. Ohhhh, how laying still hurt even worse. There was so much pressure and pain in my low, low back/butt it was unbearable. Unbearable.

Through the first contraction on my left side, I asked Scotty to rub my lower back harder with his whole hand (you see I turned away from my Mama when I rolled on my side, so my back was towards Scotty). In response to my request, Scotty says, "Babe, don't forget that I lost a finger a few years ago so I cannot use my WHOLE hand." I didn't laugh, but caught his humor and in turn asked Mama to take back over rubbing since he was not doing a good job of it, for whatever reason. In retrospect, it was hilarious and I am glad that it didn't make me mad at the time since he really was rubbing poorly. Humor can sometimes help in labor and sometimes it just doesn't do anything, good or bad, like in my case. I was just trying to get through the contraction.

I came to realize that did not know unbearable pain when I was on my left side, because after those three contractions then Cathy told me to switch to my right side. Now, that was unbearable. I have never been in so much pain. Absolute pain. This is the position, on my right side, where I found myself saying,

"I can't do this."

"How many more contractions can I endure through?"

"I cannot do this."

Let's just say that looking too far ahead in labor does not help me at all. I had to shift my thinking to more positive self-talk AND to "Shellie, you just have to get through the next contraction. One contraction at a time." I asked my dad to pray over me through a contraction. I started praying out loud through contractions. I was in utter pain and misery. It was officially terrible and awful! But, I kept on praying and pleading with God for strength and endurance. I started quoting Scripture, "I lift my eyes up to the mountains, where does my help come from? My help comes from You, Maker of heaven and earth." Oh, how I needed the help of Almighty God to help me get through the next hours or so I thought.

I don't know how many contractions I went through on my right side, but at some point, the pressure in my butt was so strong that I cried out, "Cathy, I feel like I need to push. But I don't think I am fully dilated." I don't know why I thought that though. She checked and I was "only" at 9 cm. But she said, "Listen to your body. Push if it is telling you to push." I warned my Mama who was sitting behind me that I felt like I was about to poop. Yep, I said it out loud. I pushed out my butt like I was pooping and nothing came out, but I pushed correctly (for those of you who know I pushed wrong with Carter Bane).

Right then, I got a cramp in my left glut and hamstring. Seriously? Cathy grabbed my left leg and rolled me over onto my back. How painful that was! Once on my back at an incline, I scooted down in the bed just a little for my next contraction that I was sure I would push through. Cathy warned my Mama that when I pushed my water would probably break so she better get back a little. Good thing because when the next contraction came and I pushed with all my might. I heard Cathy say something about seeing the amniotic sac bulging and then it broke--a rush of liquid flowing out. But I was still pushing. I made noises. I grunted and huffed and whatever else to push. No one counted. No one told me to push this way or that way. The only thing Cathy ever said about my pushing was, "Your pushes need to be longer than that one." So I pushed longer and harder.

Scotty continued to whisper words of encouragement to me right in my ear. He asked, "Shellie, do you know how close you are?"

"No. I don't."

"You are so close, babe; you can do it."

With the next contraction I almost cried, saying, "I just want this baby out of me!" I couldn't go much longer in my mind. The next contraction came and I pushed with all my might, long and hard and out came the head. Cathy told me with the next push the shoulders would come out and she wanted me to reach down and grab the baby and put it on my chest. I pushed again with lots of loud noises (I heard Carter get upset because of my noises and slight screaming--sorry buddy, you were a trooper through it all though) and with everything in me (the whole time telling myself, "Push out your butt just like you are pooping")! Out came the shoulders, so I reached down between my legs and grabbed under the baby's arms and pulled it out. On the way up I saw that we had a GIRL!. I cried out, "It's a girl!" as I laid her on my chest. The pediatric nurse sucked out some mucus and wiped our little Della Wren off as she laid on my chest and then cried out. What a relief for me, for her, for everyone. I looked horrible and was sweaty and yucky, but there on my chest was the newest life and the world was right and good. The pain led to something beautiful--our second child, our daughter at 4:50 am on Monday March 21, 2011. She came on her due date (which I have a story about that one too, but I will save that for another post--let's just say Della Wren is a reminder of life on a very sad day one year ago).

Scotty leaned over and kissed me as I held our baby girl on my chest. Then he grabbed Carter and they both stood at my head peering down at me and Della Wren, while Cathy delivered my placenta with another push from me. I almost immediately began to breastfeed and Wren latched on easily. Thank you God!

No, the pain does not end with the baby's delivery, but at least the baby is there so it is a little distracting. After the placenta, Cathy had to stitch me up. More pain. Oh and what hurt most were the lidocaine shots. Ouch. I'm sure Tandy got some shots of the painful faces I made.

Nonetheless, by the time 5:10 am rolled around, all was finished and the nurses and my midwife were cleaning everything up. Such a quick finale to a painfully "long" experience.

Della Wren had a lot of mucus in her so the pediatric nurse had to take her and suction her out often. Thankfully, there have been no repercussions from the excess mucus.

Our huge posse slowly dissipated throughout the hour before 6am, as people began to go home to get some rest before their Monday began. Mom Patterson went straight to work so no rest for her though. Matthew had come straight from work so he went home to sleep. Michelle never went to sleep the night before since she knew she would be up soon, so she didn't get much sleep with two little ones awaking soon. Tandy and Rachel went home to sleep for a few hours before they went off again. Liz left to go sleep too before her afternoon class. That just left my parents, Scotty and Carter, me and Wren.

We all rested in our respected places for about an hour. Wren and I on the bed. Carter and Scotty in the reclining chair, Mama in the other chair and Daddy just hanging around. Close to 6:30 am we left the delivery room for our "recovery" room. I was wheeled in a wheelchair while Wren was pushed in her bed to the room. We all settled down for a little rest in a tiny room. But two hours of sleep came for Scotty and Carter and Wren, but not for the rest of us. Oh well. There would be time to sleep later. For now, our little Wren was here and we were all together in one place.

God is more gracious than I could imagine. I have been overwhelmed at His goodness. There are so many times I sit in wonder that He has given us so much life and health when there is so much death and sickness everywhere. Why did He choose to give me and Scotty two strong and healthy children? How is it that He has given us such great families who support us so completely? Why did He give us such a great group of friends around us with whom we can do life? It's overwhelming when I think about it. And you know what it makes me want to do--praise Him. I want to praise the one, true God. The One who cares. The One who gives and takes away. The One who desires us to know Him more than anything because He is so worth knowing. Blessed is the Lord, the Giver of Life. May we all come to know Him more. Because let me tell you, there is no denying the existence of a greater power after witnessing the birth of a baby--it is truly a miracle!

"Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam, ha-gomel lahayavim tovot sheg'malani kol tov." "Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe, Who bestows good things on the unworthy, and has bestowed on me every goodness!"

Labor has begun and oh how painful...

Well, around 7 pm Sunday evening I had my first incredibly painful, take your breath away, hold on a minute contraction. The next ones were 30 minutes apart. To be honest, I was glad because I had no progression with Carter, they just came on and set in, which really did not lead to productive labor. Thus far, the contractions have been quite progressive, but very painful (no progressive there).
It's now 1:17 am on Monday 21 March. It's my due date. The contractions have gone from 30 min for 2 hours to 20 minutes to around 10 minutes and as close as 5 minutes. I got in bed around 11 so as to get some rest. I tried to completely relax through the contractions, which worked fairly well, they slowed down a bit. But my back pain has been pretty high which makes me think the baby is not in the correct position. So after an hour of resting, up I went to see what positions would encourage the best baby positioning.
Since labor has already begun, I have several options. So for 20 minutes my butt has been up high in the air, trying to encourage the baby to move up out of my pelvis so that it can reposition itself back down correctly. And then came pelvic tilts. Standing in the bathroom, tilting my pelvis back and forth, back and forth. I'm hoping to open up the pelvis to make more room for the baby. Then came side stepping the stairs two at a time. I made it up about half way before a contraction stopped me short and I realized that I was inducing contractions a little too fast (when they went to 4 minutes apart, when they had been 13 minutes apart). Hold on, here comes another one.
Alright, so let's just say they hurt so bad!!! To get through them right now, I am standing, leaning on the bathroom counter and rocking side to side. I've been a consistent 10 minutes apart for about 4 contractions. Good sign.
One more within 10 minutes and I will wake my mother and tell her. Currently, everyone is sleeping in the house (though I think I just heard Scotty roll over or move around). I may be getting to the point where I need some help through these contractions. I keep telling myself, this only lasts for a short while in the whole scheme of life. 24-48 hours. I can do about anything for that length of time. But oh, how painful it is.
It is hard to believe at the end of all this is a beautiful child, but it's true. Usually the greatest things in life bring with them elements of intense hardship and pain. They are worth it in the end.
The other thing that causes me to press on (like I really have a choice though) is knowing the good that labor is having on my body--getting me ready to have the baby. The pain and contractions cause the release of the hormones and other things necessary for breast-feeding and healing and who knows what else! But I do know that the process of pain leads to necessary things. It's a good lesson to learn.
Well, enough for now. I will try to post again at some point. If not, there is a baby coming and I will post again after its delivery. I trust God fully. No matter what happens. And yes, I think like that because we are not promised another day, nor are we promised a particular child. Labor and delivery can be dangerous. But, like I said, I serve a God that really cares and who can do anything, so I trust Him no matter the outcome. I do pray though that all goes well and I believe it will. I can't wait!!!

Upcoming Birth

To say I am not expecting this child to come early is a very true statement. And yet, I had a day full of odd pains and contractions on Saturday. Around 8:45am, after getting into my car on my way to a woman's conference from the YMCA, I had a sharp pain in my right abdominal side. It did not come and go, but rather remained a consistent pain and it hurt. Once I arrived at the conference I drank water and tried several different positions to relieve the pain. Nothing really helped though. Three hours into the steady pain, I called my midwife, just to confer with her and we agreed that I was not in labor. She suggested drinking more water and taking a bath. On the way home, the pain went away (after 5 hours of consistent tightness in the right side of my uterus/abdomen). So when I got home, I took a shower and bath. The pain was gone. My earlier conclusion of false labor confirmed.

Then around 3pm, I had a mild contraction. No biggie; I've had those for weeks. But then every 7 minutes for the next 1.5 hours, I had more contractions. They weren't painful though, just tightening of my uterus. Eventually the regularity of the contractions stopped too.

So at 5pm on Saturday 5 March, I found myself sitting outside on the grass with Carter, chilling and watching the cars and people went by. Every car that passed was a "fast car" to him. He pulled out a blanket from the couch and laid it over my feet and tucked himself under it too. That is going to be one of the last time where it was just me and him as my only child.

Just a touch of reality came over me and a treasuring in my heart of the kindness and ease of my favorite first-born. I call him my favorite first-born all the time. Sure, I know he will be my only first-born, but I want him to know that he is special. Our other children will be special too. I want them to know that they are special not based on anything they have done, but rather intrinsically for who they are. They don't need to earn our love. It will be there no matter.

Now, just because our love should be unconditional does not mean that their actions and what they do are not important. In fact, their actions and the way they live will tell more about their love for us and God. Somehow, we have to teach them unconditional love while requiring a life that honors God and others. I don't know if it's possible in math, but in my mind the love is mutually exclusive of the actions, but the actions are directly connected to the understanding of the reality of the love. Unconditional love is independent of the action, but the action is dependent upon unconditional love. Only God will be able to help us create such an environment that fosters unconditionally loved kids who live responsibly and passionately for Him.

So now, it is Sunday morning. I am up early with a few contractions through the night, but nothing of any consequence. If I have the baby early, then it needs to be today (my daddy leaves the country tomorrow) or not until next Monday. But, you know, God knows best and whenever the right time for this little one to come out gets here, I will be ready and thankful.

Speaking of thankful, I am so grateful that I have carried this little one this far. It's been a harder pregnancy than the one with Carter, but not miserable. I still feel incredibly well considering I am down to 15 days until due date. There are many things I will be happy to not deal with and many things I will be happy to gain back when not pregnant. But, the whole process of life is such a beautiful thing. It still amazes me that there is a baby inside and in a matter of minutes and hours that baby gets pushed out into this world. It's not here and then it is. And then life changes again.

I will be honest, I do not expect life to be that drastically different than from right now. Maybe I am choosing to ignore the inevitable, but then again, maybe I am determined to not let my children rule our lives--influence it, yes, but not rule it. May God give me and Scotty the wisdom, strength and passion to raise a family that adores the Creator of the world and the Redeemer of our hearts.

Two things I learned from the conference this weekend, if we do not walk with God ourselves and teach our children God's words, Scripture, then there is a very small "chance" of them living a life that is worthy of our Lord. So may I be desperate for God daily. May I have a passion for God's words that is passed on to my children, for from Him comes the springs of life. Jesus came not to just merely save us, for that is only the beginning, the starting point, but He came that we may have life to the absolute fullest. Without Him, life can be good, even great, but one will never know the full depths of a fulfilled life nor the joy of true intimacy without walking with Jesus Christ daily. You may wonder, how I can make that statement and I will tell you--I've tried it both ways. Jesus' way is better.

Now, when is this little one coming?