The Making of M.O.M.

Carolina, Callie and the Stink Eye

2012-05-23T10:05:00.000-04:00

I'd like you to meet my daughters, Carolina and Callie.

Originally Olivia was Callie but then she changed her name to Carolina so Ella took up Callie where Carolina left off.

Confused yet? Welcome to my world.

Callie has always been a popular name in our house. I'm not sure why because we only know one person named Callie and our kids are hardly ever around her.

When Elizabeth was about Ella's age (2 years) she had several baby dolls all named Callie. One baby had pants that wouldn't come off so she was "Callie Pants." She had another that had a blue dress so she was "Callie Blue."

You get the idea.

My favorite things about the video below:

1) When I confirm that Ella's new name is Callie and she says, "What?" Like I was calling her name.

2) The Stink Eye

3) The fact that Olivia really responds to the name Carolina. And without hesitation. I sometimes think that I'll call her Carolina and catch her off guard and she won't respond. That's not happened yet and this has been going on for several months.

These kids crack me up, that's for sure.

When I was in elementary school I desperately wanted my name to be Lee Ann. I guess they come by it honest then, huh?

Have you or your kids ever gone by another name?

Objects not obstacles: A mothering confession

2012-05-15T17:30:00.000-04:00

In the early hours of Monday morning, my husband returned from a four day trip to Colorado. At which point I droggily blew my stinky morning breath in his face, kissed him somewhere in the vicinity of his lips and then slumped back into my pillow, grateful to have my husband - and subsequently - my normal life back.

He left supremely early Thursday morning to catch at 6am flight. So, with the wonderful help of grandmas, I was a single parent for 4 entire days. It's not a job I'd like to apply for anytime soon.

Typically, when my husband gets an extended break and I do not, I have duel emotions. While I'm thrilled that he's getting some time to recharge, somewhere in the recesses of my selfish heart I face each day with a countdown mentality. Only 92 more hours and then he's back, sort of thing.

But somewhere around Friday morning, amid the chaos and the noise of all of these blessings, I felt myself having a supernatural amount of patience. I'm sure we've all had spurts of that at some point but for me anyway, it has never lasted more than a few hours and then I bottom out like a ship in shallow water at low tide. I ride the waves of selfishness until, finally, I blow up at the kids over something trivial like opening a box of crackers or refilling a sippy cup.

But not this past weekend. Granted, I had much help from my Mom and Grandmother, but even still I felt different. I felt peaceful, patient, kind and even, dare I say, joyful to have all seven kids all by myself.

Trust me when I say that this is not the norm for me, y'all. Sure, I enjoy my kids immensely. I love being home with them all day and schooling them. I love their quirks, the funny things they say and how they give and receive hugs and kisses freely.

But by 5:30pm, I'm ready for my husband to walk through the door.

On Sunday morning, I cheerfully arose early and got all seven kids dressed, fed, hair combed, snacks packed and loaded into the van. Alone. And we got to church early y'all.

Last Sunday is proof that the Lord still works miracles people. Not because we were early for church, per se, but more because I didn't lose my mind (or my religion) before we got there. Sometime on Sunday evening, I sat in bewilderment at how and why I'd had so much patience, joy and cheerfulness over a long four days of what could have been stressful, annoying and down right ugly.

I felt the Lord press on me a truth that nearly knocked me over.

You see your children as an obstacle to your mothering.

Um, excuse me God? What?! How can my kids be an obstacle to my mothering? They're the reason I'm a mother!

He whispered in my soul...

Really? So the frustration at spilled drinks, messes, bottoms to wipe, loud chatter, you don't see those as an obstacle? I think you do.

Yeah. I guess I do. The truth is, instead of expecting my children to be, well, children I expected them to be less hassle. I had this expectation in my mind of what I should look like a mother, what our children should look like and how our days should flow seamlessly and when reality didn't meet my expectations, I lost control.

Yelling, frustration, angry words, unkind redirection, quick to anger, slow to show mercy...that pretty much sums up my mothering over the last several months.

I was seeing our children as an obstacle to my mothering instead of the objects of my motherly love.

The same was true for homeschooling. We use Sonlight curriculum which involves lots of reading on my part, as the teacher. As I would read or teach, the children were constantly stopping me asking questions, making comments and just generally being inquisitive. It frustrated me beyond what it should.

I slowly began to realize that we homeschool so that our children can interrupt the lesson and ask questions and their education can take on a personal form that allows for their interests to be explored.

I was viewing my own children as an obstacle to my homeschooling instead of the object of my teaching.

Then, on Sunday evening I got the heartbreaking news of a dear friend losing her unborn son. As my heart cried out to God on her behalf, I realized even more how much I should be treasuring these children God has given me rather than viewing them as distractions and obstacles.

Truly, my mind has been so focused on accomplishing tasks, getting our schooling done and all the things that come with motherhood that I lost sight of what is really important. Having a large family means that lots of things must work in a specific way for laundry, meals and everyday life to run smoothly. But those specifics should never be exchanged for discipling my kids, in every moment showing love, mercy, compassion and a genuine interest in things they are interested in.

I need to cherish my children and all of the frustrations that come with them.

Are there going to be days ahead where I lose it, get frustrated and make mistakes? Of course. Should I have expectations of my children and set boundaries? Without a doubt! But I was focusing on the tasks and not the people, which should never be the case.

Before I know it, these treasures of mine will be grown and graduating college and moving out to accomplish the lives and tasks the Lord has set before them. And I will have the joy of watching them from the sidelines as they do wonderful things for the glory of God. Until then, teaching them to love each other, love the Lord, serve Him faithfully, cheerfully and obediently is my goal. I pray that I never again see them as obstacles to my goal but rather, the objects of it.

Better late than never

2012-05-04T16:52:00.000-04:00

I know I'm nearly a month late, but this is our family picture from Easter this year. Ashlee's eyes are shut, Lucas is pouting and Aaron and Olivia have clearly been bribed with Easter candy.

But folks, this is reality for us. Crazy, busy, emotional and supremely blessed.

Y'all have a fantastic Friday!

Easter 2012

On being a sender

2012-05-02T22:57:00.000-04:00

I've told myself that even short blog posts are worthy of this space. That's true, right?

With that said....

I recognize that not everyone is called to go to a foreign country and be a missionary. Some people cannot because of health reasons. Some can't because of family responsibilities. Some cannot because of situations beyond their control. Some cannot because they are scared to tears of flying.

The point is, not everyone can physically go. But the truth is, everyone can go in some capacity. Romans 10:13-15 is scripture very close to my heart.

For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!” (ESV, emphasis mine)

You see, we can all go in some capacity. Some of us go physically but the vast majority of people will not go full time. And that's okay. In fact, dare I say, that's how God designed it!

After all, Romans is clear, it takes each step, each person, each team member to get the gospel into all the nations, to the very ends of the Earth.

Some are sent. Some are senders. My dear friends, it is no more important to be one that is sent than it is to be a sender. The truth is, the sent can't go without the senders.

As I sat here tonight figuring up what our monthly and outgoing support needs are, I realized something.

I have around 830 facebook friends. If HALF of the people I'm friends with on facbook committed to partnering with us in the amount equivalent to ONE FAMILY MEAL of fast food per MONTH we'd go from being at 18% to 100% of our monthly support goal!

ONE family meal out per MONTH. One.

And I'm not talking Chick-fil-a. I'm talking McDonald's. For the cost of about 3 value meals per month, pledged by about 400 people we'd be fully funded. Take that down to 200 people and it's becomes the cost of a mediocre sit down meal for your family (or still fast food for a family the size of ours!).

I've heard people say several times, "Oh, we could only give just a tiny bit per month. Not even enough to make a difference."

Can I challenge you on that?

I promise you, every amount makes a difference to the people in Kenya who have NEVER heard the name of Jesus Christ.

Won't you go with us? Even if not in the flesh, will you live out Romans 10:13-15 and be the sender? We'll never get there without you.

If you'd like to go with us, you can start by clicking here.

Busy, Blessed, Active ...Did I mention busy?

2012-05-01T23:06:00.003-04:00

My blog has been so silent lately but that's not because my life is that way! Things are busy, busy around here and it doesn't look like a slower pace is anywhere on the horizon.

Luke and I are staying busy with normal work and parenting duties plus we're diligently working on our Bible Training Requirement for Africa Inland Mission. We're also working on filling out all the paperwork that goes along with moving your family of NINE to another country in approximately 8 months. (Yikes!) Tonight, I snapped this picture of Abigail so that we can go apply for her passport soon.

It cracks me up that she'll be four when we come back and yet her passport photo will still look like this. So funny.

Lucas and Ashlee are talking nearly non-stop about their birthday that is in 29 days (but who's counting?), Elizabeth is reading everything she can get her hands on, Aaron is moving from little kid to big kid, ditching naps for good now, staying dry all night long and actually being able to make some jokes. Olivia is busy doing all the things that pesty little sisters do when they are 3.5 years old and at the same time doing all the things amazing big sister helpers do when they're 3.5 years old. Ella is peeing in the potty and wearing undies exclusively during the day (oh YES SHE IS!) and Abigail is busy sleeping and growing and giving her Momma amazingly long stretches of sleep at night (like 4.5 hours!). Did I leave anyone out?

I've been working on a more in depth post about what each of the kids are up to (and I started before Abigail was born) and I'm hoping to have that done soon.

For now, we're pressing ahead with school (only 6 more weeks!), living life at full throttle and soaking up all the smiles, coos and goodness that our sweet, littlest girl is newly offering.

Life is good. Life is busy. Life is sometimes stressful. Life is blessed, indeed.

How are things with you all? I miss reading your blogs! I've got lots to catch up on. Leave me a note and let me know how you are. :) Now, I'm off to bathe, feed and swaddle my littlest love. Ahhh...the smell of a freshly washed baby head. Nothing quite compares, does it?

Das Not Funny! Friday: The Wrestling Match

2012-04-20T11:35:00.000-04:00

Welcome to a LONG overdue edition of Das Not Funny! Friday.

Das Not Funny! Friday is where I share the funny things that our children have said and done. After all, if having 7 children ages 7 and younger isn't funny, I don't know what is!

Since it's been a sweet forever since I've posted a Das Not Funny! Friday, some of these will be from a while back, but they still make me chuckle.

First of all, a while back I read a post about Why Having Toddlers Is Like Being At a Frat Party. Read it and I think you'll agree.

-----

The first few weeks of Abigail's life our amazing friends rallied around us and set up meals to be delivered (Do you know about takethemameal.com? If not you should it's awesome. And no, I didn't get paid to say that.) Anyway, one of our sweet friends came by and brought us dinner, complete with a container of chocolate chip cookies. Lucas saw them, raised both hands in the air and said,

"Thou shall NOT covet!"

-----

The awesome thing about having a new baby when you have older children is their desire to help. Elizabeth is probably the most consistent helper, offering to change diapers, grab a pacifier or help a younger sibling while I'm feeding. But every.single.time Abigail cries I have a barrage of helpers all ready to tell me the thing I usually already know.

"Mom! Abigail is crying!"

"Mom! Abigail is screaming!"

"Mom! You made Abigail cry!"

It's sorta funny when she's in the next room and borders on annoying and hysterical when I'm holding her, while she's fussing.

-----

Luke and I both have an iPod touch. We're both holding off on smart phones for as long as humanly possible. At any rate, our older children take a special delight in taking videos and pictures with our iPods. The results vary anywhere from humiliating (for Luke and I) to side splitting.

This is a small glimpse into our evenings at home. Except that the it's 4 less kids for this match because Lucas, Aaron, Olivia & Ella were already in bed.

Here's what I love:

1) Elizabeth's accent. What the heck? We don tawlk lie-yuk thay-ut here in tha Sow-uth.

2) Elizabeth promoting her new "Toe Nail Shop" which is located in her bedroom. Only $20 folks! It's awesome that all of her advertising is on the walls (hallways, kitchen, living room) of our house but she "doesn't charge family." Next time a stranger shows up at our house looking for a mani-pedi, I'll know where to direct them. Or not.

3) No wonder Luke is having to go through extensive treatment with a chiropractor.

4) "Here's where I come in!" Hysterical.

5) Ashlee's last effort at crazy just before the camera clicks off.

And that's just with 2 kids y'all. Just two. Imagine 4 more crazies in the mix.

Happy Friday y'all.

Long days, short years

2012-04-19T16:36:00.000-04:00

I stumbled across the above video the other day. Actually, Luke stumbled upon it. And as I sat and watched it, I thought of a few things.

1) Why didn't I ask Elizabeth to put on some clothes before I began videoing?

2) Lucas' chubby baby fat is all gone. In its place is a scarred, bruised and constantly scabbed little boy.

3) Ashlee's temper is the SPITTING IMAGE of Ella's (and they look more alike than I thought!).

4) How have I so quickly forgotten this time in my children's lives?

Lucas's little voice falls on my ears as a voice I vaguely knew at some point in my life. I had totally forgotten that Ashlee had those whispy waves in her hair after bathtime. Now her hair is as straight as a board.

I remember the busyness of our home, the constant trips to the potty as the twins learned to use the toilet and how hilarious (and stressful) it was when all four kids had meltdowns at the same time.

I remember the chaos, the dirty house and I remember laughing a lot. But truly, I can't stop and picture in my mind Lucas and Ashlee as 2 year olds or Elizabeth as a 4 year old. It's almost impossible for me to remember Olivia at the age of 2 or Ella as a chubby 8 month old.

With guilt washing over me and tears stinging the back of my eyes, I realized something. Two years from now, I probably won't be able to picture each of the kids at the ages they are now.

My breath caught somewhere in my chest and it hit me. I'm so caught up in living life today, in getting through today, in teaching them today that I am not burning this time into my brain like I'll wish that I had.

For the last several months the twins have been asking when it will be their birthday. Several months before Abigail was born we kept saying, "Not until after the baby comes!" Well, now she's here and for a 5 year old, that must mean that their birthday is just around the corner, right? About mid-March they began asking more frequently, almost daily, and I continued to say, "You've still got 2 and a half months!"

They asked me again a few days ago, and this time the answer blew my mind. "45 days."

What? How can that be? In 45 days I will no longer have twin 5 year olds. What?

The thing is, I think as Moms we focus so much on just surviving that we forget that the days are flying by at warp speed. In 45 days my sweet babies will be SIX and I don't understand how that's possible because it was just a few months ago that Elizabeth turned six, right? Heh. Try two YEARS ago, nearly.

I know I've said this here before, but I'm going to say it again...a couple of years ago I was at a Homeschool convention and one of the speakers said something like this,

"When your children are young you are so busy. You are meeting their every need. But let me promise you something...the days are incredibly long, but the years are incredibly short."

Boy, was she ever right. Somehow, amid laundry and diaper changes and schooling and discipline and having babies, my big babies have turned into nearly six year olds. And in two years, I'll look back and hardly be able to remember them being five.

Which seem ridiculous to me right now because in my mind I think, "Psh. Trust me. I'll NEVER forget this stage. It's chaos and busy but every day is pretty much the same. Ella throws a fit and I laugh at her ridiculousness, Aaron shows me his fish lips - and then requests a kiss, Olivia has a meltdown and then is giggling 10 seconds later, Elizabeth is the biggest helper on the planet but can turn around and sass me like a teenager, Lucas lives on his bike and, in turn, lives covered in band-aids and Ashlee waivers between being an independent artist and wanting me to sit with her so she can read.

I'll always remember this season, right? Wrong.

In fact, just as the 3 kids in the video at the top of this post show me, all too soon I'll forget key things I thought would never leave my mind. Like Lucas' tiny sweet voice and the way he rubbed that kitty cat on his nose at bed and naptime or Ashlee's incredible temper tantrums and the way she used to look at me out of the top of her eyes and grin or Elizabeth's mouth when she used to say the word "Jesus" or "gentle" or "gymnastics."

I forget that in a few years I'll forget. I want, so desperately, to remember these precious treasures and their egocentricities and the little quirks that are the result.

I don't want to ever forget how Aaron asked for months upon end what happened to his tooth after it was pulled or how Ella excitedly told her Lamby (the lovey she sleeps with) how she was a big girl because she pooped in the potty. I don't want to forget that Elizabeth is going through a phase of wearing faux glasses that resemble Buddy Holly and that she's so darn cute in them I just giggle when I see her. I don't want to forget that Lucas is Star Wars crazed and all he talks about ever is Star Wars.

I don't want to forget that Ashlee's new favorite hobby is reading or the look on her face when she realized she could read all by herself, without my help. I don't want to forget that Aaron almost always asks everyone he meets, "Do you know about trains?"

I don't want to forget that Olivia wants, more than anything, to wear a pretty dress each and every day even if it's freezing outside and she'll need an ankle length coat over it. I don't want to forget that she hides her Harrietts (the lovies she sleeps with) under her pillow, but each night before bed she'll pull back the corner of her pillow and tell them goodnight.

Such precious things these children do but somehow, I know I will forget most of it. That is the biggest reason I blog. To remember. That is the biggest reason I take pictures. To remember.

And I pray that I will always remember to do both of those things as life continues to move at warp speeds. I want to always remember as much as I can. Because one day, I'll look back and wonder how it all happened so fast.

Now, I'm off to look at good (but inexpensive) digital video cameras online. Anyone have any good suggestions?

Break our hearts: Our April ministry newsletter

2012-04-15T22:28:00.001-04:00

The song Hosanna is a favorite in our family. In fact, we considered naming Abigail "Hosanna" because we liked it so much. None the less, there's a line in the song that I (Jessica) often sing with half my heart filled with longing and half of my heart hesitant for the Lord to answer my request.

"Break my heart for what breaks yours..." The worship team belts out this line and I must confess that each time I wonder if I really want the Lord to break my heart for all the things that break His.

After all, can you imagine all the things that must grieve the heart of our Lord? I'm sure I can hardly imagine it. Yet, somehow, I do desire for my heart to be broken for the things that break His heart, even if it's just one at a time. And, in those requests, the Lord has answered. Pain and suffering are all around us. It's not hard to go through an average day and see a homeless person on the corner or hear of a tragedy in the news. But real heart break, things that drive you to action, we believe those heart breaks come from the Lord.

What breaks our heart? Many things actually, but at the top of the list is unreached people. What is an "unreached people"? Good question. According to JoshuaProject.net, an unreached or least-reached people group is a population of people with less than 5% professing Christian. To put that into perspective, according to JoshuaProject, 80% of the people groups in the United States are professing Christians. In Canada, that number is slightly higher at 84%. Joshua Project breaks down countries by people groups. The US has 365 total people groups. Canada has 247.

Remember, that for a people group to be considered unreached, less than 5% of that group will be professing Christians. In Kenya, East Africa there is a reported 117 people groups. 38 of them are totally unreached. Our family will be going to work, live among and share the Gospel with 2 of those 38.

So what about this breaks our hearts? Well, both Luke and I had the opportunity to visit Guinea-Bissau, West Africa in 2011. There, we experienced unreached people first hand. The image at the top of this newsletter shows a man with amulets on his necklace. The sweet little baby pictured above also has amulets around her neck. Amulets are tokens from Witch Doctors meant to ward off evil spirits and, for some, to bring good luck. For many African people groups, amulets are a part of every day life. But Christians know that true peace, joy and healing can only come from one person.

Jesus Christ.

Most of the African peoples practicing witchcraft have never heard the redeeming power of Jesus Christ. They've never had the chance or opportunity to hear about the One who can heal all hurts, not just the physical. That, my friends, is what breaks our hearts. We long for those who have never heard to hear the name of the Lord. We desire, desperately, for them to encounter the One who loves them, cherishes them and desires a personal relationship with them.

We are glad that God has not chosen to burden our hearts with every heartbreak He has. Yet we are honored He would reveal to us this specific heartbreak, one so dear to His heart. And it is because of this heart break that we are compelled to go, share and live among Kenya's unreached people.

Will you go with us? You can! Maybe not physically (though we'd love visitors once we get settled in!), you CAN go with us!

Right now we are raising up both PRAYER and FINANCIAL partners to GO with us to Kenya!

Want to partner with us and take the Good New of Jesus Christ to the unreached? You can, by emailing me at: beaverbunch (at) gmail (dot) com and putting "Missionary Support" in the subject line. I can email you a pledge card that you can complete and return.

Or you can click here for Online Giving.

We are so excited to see what the Lord is preparing for us in Kenya and we are honored you'd consider to GO with us!

Blessings,

Luke and Jessica Beaver
(Elizabeth, Lucas, Ashlee, Aaron, Olivia, Ella and Abigail, too!)

Support Needs

Financial Needs

Outgoing Support Needed:
$39,082
We are at 30%

Monthly Support Needed:
$7,999
We are at 12.5%

Prayer Needs

Praises!
* Abigail arrived safely and was EARLY! A first for Beaver babies!
* We are actively speaking with small groups and enjoyed a wonderful Sunday with Wellspring Community Church!
* We are continuing to receive people who are interested in partnering with us in prayer and financial support!

Requests
* For Luke and Jessica to organize their time so that Bible Requirements, Outbound Training and Paperwork can be completed efficiently
* For us to prepare the children, as much as possible, for the move to Kenya
* For God to raise up prayer and financial partners

Abigail at 1 month

2012-04-05T15:30:00.000-04:00

Oh how I wish I'd have known about blogging when Elizabeth and the twins were babies! And how I wish I'd have been more intentional about blogging developments and milestones each month of Aaron and Olivia's infancy.

Nonetheless, with Ella, I posted about her every month. I knew if I didn't, I'd quickly forget all the little things that happen early on in her life. Abigail is no different. So, each month over the next year the plan is to post pictures and milestones of my sweet baby girl. Really, it's less about all of you and more about me being able to look back and actually remember something.

Besides, isn't she a living doll? I'm sure I'm a little partial. :)

At one month old, Abigail Mercy has started losing some of that beautiful, dark auburn hair and now sports the baby-classic style of "receding hair-line/old man hair." But she's still as cute as a button! Her scrawny limbs remind me so much of Ashlee at that age - heck, Ashlee now!

I'm not gonna lie. When she was born and the doctor placed her on my chest, I looked at her and thought to myself, "Whose kid is this? She doesn't look like us!"

Not that looking like Luke or I constitutes being a member of our family. Clearly. Ahem.

But truly, I expected her to look like a typical Beaver kid with round cheeks, peach fuzzy light hair and maybe a hint of her own flair. When Abigail appeared with dark hair and a face that was more slender than round, I assumed after the shock of birth wore off she'd favor Ashlee. And while she does, I continued to think - in the back of my mind or only around our closest friends - did this baby get switched with our baby at birth because, y'all, I didn't think she looked anything like us!

My Mom sent me a text about a week ago and said she was looking at some of my baby pictures and that, indeed, Abigail comes by her biology honestly. Apparently, we look alike! I dug out a photo of myself as a newborn and it's true, she's mine.

I say all of this in jest, of course, because I knew she was mine all along. Her temperament is uniquely hers, but she also reminds me quite a bit of Ella as a baby. She loves to be cuddled and held and hates her car seat with a fiery passion.

She makes the sweetest baby noises, often grunting, snorting or making other sweet little baby sounds. She hardly ever fully cries (unless she's in her carseat) but rather does this half cry-half squeak thing. She always prefers for someone, anyone really, to be holding her. Often, the spot of baby holder is occupied by one of her oldest 3 siblings. They adore her. All of her older sibling adore her. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she's lost all her hair on the top of her head from kisses, rubs and nuzzles.

She's managed to show us a few intentional smiles and usually really shows off if we makes kissy noises at her. Currently, she has a little, tiny dimple on the right side of her chin that appears only when she grins. I'm praying it stays.

She loves to be swaddled and, perhaps the BEST part of her baby-ness is, SHE TAKES A PACIFIER! Ella refused one altogether and most of the other kids only entertained them for a few weeks. But Abigail seems to really like it. A first for us since Elizabeth was an infant.

She nurses about every 2 hours during the day but does so efficiently, usually in under 10 minutes. She goes about 2.5 hours at night but last night set a new record for 4 GLORIOUS HOURS. She alternates sleeping between her bouncy seat, the swing and in someone's arms.

I try so hard not to compare all of our children to each other, but I think it's natural to when you have multiple children. And while she's similar to her older brothers and sisters in many ways, she's certainly her own little person (as if she didn't prove that enough during my pregnancy). And as I looked back at Ella's 1 month post I realized, again, that maybe Abigail does favor our other kids more than I thought.

One month old, already. It's hard to think it's already went by so quickly and yet, it's becoming harder and harder to remember what life was like without her. Happy 1 month sweet, cuddly Abigail! We love you so much!

Survival

2012-04-02T16:15:00.001-04:00

Her tiny little grunts, snorts and noises stir me from my sleep. I was in a hard sleep, the kind that you fall into immediately when it's been weeks since you've slept through the night. I throw the covers off of my sweating body and shimmy/scoot to the end of the bed. The pack 'n play is squeezed between my side of the bed and the wall, making it an acrobatic feat for me to get out of bed, but Abigail isn't in the pack 'n play.

I kick the bouncy seat, hold back a scream and realize - all in in the same 3 seconds - that I left her bouncy seat on vibrate. I feel my way through the darkness and click the switch over to the off position. Then, step over the bouncy seat. She's not in there either.

I lean over, turn off the baby swing and reach down to grab my, now crying, baby girl. I snuggle her close, smell her head and kiss her cheek, just like I did the hour before.

Together we perform an acrobatic dance as I climb, with her in one arm, back onto my side of the bed, smacking my other big toe against the foot of the pack 'n play.

"I really should move that pack 'n play," I think, "she's not slept in it in nearly a week."

We settle in, I wrap the boppy around my waist and she begins to nurse. Sleepily, I lay my head back against the hard metal headboard. I doze on and off for the next 30 minutes, until I wake up with a stiff neck and a milk-drunk newborn who is snoozing softly in my arms.

All the books say you should never sleep with your baby. All the books say that you should never let your baby sleep in a swing, or a bouncy seat or propped up on the boppy. All the books say you should only let your baby sleep in her own bed and move her to her crib as soon as possible.

All the books say to sleep when your baby sleeps and to rest as much as possible during her first few weeks of life.

I'm betting none of those books are authored by mothers with lots of small children, most of which do not nap during the day. I'm also willing to bet that those books are written for those days when everything seems to go smoothly, your baby nods off to sleep quietly on your chest and those nursing mommas drink their 64 ounces of water a day.

64 ounces. As if. I'd never leave the bathroom. Or maybe I'd just have to buy disposable underwear. That might work better actually.

I lay my sweet, swaddled blessing beside me in the bed, careful to move the covers far way from her tiny body. She stirs, snorts and grunts in disapproval of me laying her down. I offer for her to nurse again and we both drift off to sleep.

An hour or so later we repeat this same process, because somewhere in the last 30 minutes I've gotten tired of sleeping on my side and I have returned my little babe to the swing or bouncy seat or, just maybe, her pack 'n play.

Finally, I hear the click of the door and a sleepy child's body steps through the door way. "Hey baby," I whisper. "Come. Quietly. Abigail just went back to sleep."

Arms and legs curl up beside me and I listen to stories about crazy dreams or Star Wars or how she can't wait to have her own baby one day, depending on which of the oldest 3 kids is beside me. I drift in and out of sleep until, finally, a two year old shouts her impatience with her crib at me through the monitor.

Our home springs to life as the sounds of laughter, toilets and squeals echo through the hallways.

I remind myself that this is the phase known of as SURVIVAL. In these early days of sleeplessness, frequent feedings and numerous diaper changes, our goal is to survive. Teaching our children that we value family, each other and the freshness of new life is most important.

If they learn some spelling, math, reading and history along the way, then so be it.

Survival.

Nothing more, nothing less. We simply exists to love one another and enjoy the expansion of our family. Some days are better than others. Somedays, all of our schooling gets done and our home is a disaster zone. Other days, the house is tidy and the kids are dirty from a full day of playing outside. Life consists of give and take right now. It's a life that is lived minute by minute, hour by hour and often no further.

As I write this, Abigail is snoozing soundly in her bouncy seat, Ella and Olivia are finishing up naps, Ashlee and Lucas are enjoying an afternoon at their grandmothers' houses and Elizabeth and Aaron are busy dancing under a tree as it blooms in the spring sun.

Life is busy, chaotic, loud, eventful, peaceful, cozy, dramatic, new and all in all, a complicated dance of learning what our new normal looks like.

After all, what is normal anyway? We abandoned that term long ago. Seven kids ages 7 and under isn't normal. It's survival. A beautiful, complicated, peaceful survival.

Which is exactly what we are doing.

Happy 2nd Birthday Ella Joy!

2012-03-23T16:51:00.000-04:00

To an outsider, my life today and my life from two years ago today probably don't look that much different. Two years ago today, I was snuggling, rocking, swaddling and nursing a newborn.

Two years ago today, I was mesmerized by the intoxicating smell and gentle coos of a sweet baby girl. Today it's Abigail I snuggle. Two years ago today, it was my sweet Ella Joy.

Somewhere along the way in the last two years I blinked and life went racing by. My cuddly, sweet newborn babe turned into a feisty, jabbering, independent two year old. My cubby, round cheeked baby grew into a chubby, round cheeked little girl with flowing, blond ringlets and a smile that melts my heart.

At two years old, Ella really believes she's one of the "big kids." No matter where the other kids are or what they are doing, she's smack in the middle of it, throwing her toddler weight around and enforcing her own set of rules.

She adores wearing shoes, anyone's shoes, especially boots. As soon as one of the older 3 kick off their cowboy boots, she races to get them and shove them onto her own squishy toddler foot.

She's an expert escape artist and pint sized Houdini. She's been known to escape from footed, zip up pajamas that have been put on backwards - all without unzipping the zipper. Her nap and bedtime routines consist of duct taping on her diaper so that she won't take it off and launch it out of her crib.

And speaking of her crib. Oh, that girl. We've had crib escapees before. But typically, a hard fall or a consequence from Mom or Dad usually deters future crib breaks. At 2, Aaron moved from the crib to the big boy bed and never looked back.

But Ella? Ha! Falls, consequences and the lure of a big girl bed wasn't enough to keep her in any bed, much less her crib. Finally, we gave up and bought a crib tent. So far, she's managed to stay put. So far.

She's maintained her nickname of Ella Goat because of her willingness to eat just about anything. Especially anything green. Her affinity for foods that are green are only out measured by Aaron's repulsion of the same foods. She'll eat anything and does so in large quantities. She's been wearing 24 month and 2T clothes for a while now and as I begin to pull out spring and summer clothing, it's a given that she'll move straight into 3T clothes. I'm eager to see what percentiles she's in when we go for her 2 year check up next week. Having never had a baby in more than the 50th percentile, I'm sure she'll be a rule changer in that arena as well.

This girl and I have a special bond, it's unique from the one I have with the other kids. It's not that she's my favorite or even because she's the "baby" (which, I mean, she's not. Though it's hard for me to wrap my mind around that). The bond I have with her is is just...well, special. She's a Momma's girl through and through. She squeals with excitement when Daddy comes home at the end of the day but when push comes to shove (which is does a lot around here) Mommy is the only one who can adequately soothe her cries, calm her fears and kiss her boo boos.

As I was taking these photos of her yesterday, she kept wanting to sit on my lap or stand with one arm wrapped tightly around my leg. And I couldn't help but smile, even though I really wanted her to step back so that my lens could capture her sweetness.

You know, love is a crazy thing, especially when it's directed toward your children. You find out you're expecting (whether by birth or adoption) and suddenly your heart begins to expand and you begin to love this person you've never met. Then you hold your baby for the first time and think that surely your heart will explode from all the love inside it, trying desperately to pour itself onto this person in your arms.

Then, they grow. And one day they're swinging on the swingset or running through the freshly mowed grass or just sitting and watching cartoons and you look at them and that same swell of emotion happens again. And you wonder, how on earth could I ever love someone the way I love you?

And yet somehow your love continues to grow, day by day, week by week, year by year. And if you add more children into the mix you're sure that none of them could ever capture your heart the way that this one does.

But let me say with confidence, that loving the 6th child with a reckless abandon, in only a way that mother can love, is entirely possible. In fact, I'm learning that it's possible 7 times over. Somehow, this heart of mine continues to multiply the love I have inside for each of my 7 babes. It's entirely possible to fall in love with your children over and over and over again.

And with this frazzle haired girl, who hardly ever lets me keep her hair in a cute, neat pony for longer than .375 seconds, I'm finding that falling in love with her is simply wonderful. Somedays I think I could just squeeze her til she hurts. She floods my heart with such simple, wonderful joy.

Happy 2nd Birthday my sweet Ella Joy! I love you so very much!

Abigail's birth story

2012-03-17T22:30:00.017-04:00

Luke just swept all six older kids out the door and to Elizabeth's last basketball practice, which means I have approximately 15 minutes to catch you up to speed on what happened over our long, exciting, exhausting weekend. (I started this post on March 9th, by the way, so now all the kids are tucked into bed and Luke is watching March Madness. It's only taken me 8 days to get back to finishing this post. I can't quit snuggling my newborn.)

Incase you haven't heard, I HAD A BABY! Before my due date, without being induced.

Y'all, it's a miracle. I'm serious.

First of all, on Friday around lunchtime, Lucas fell and busted his mouth pretty bad. It required a trip to the oral surgeon to get stitched up. He's doing pretty good now, most of his swelling is gone but he's still pretty bruised. That's a whole post within itself. But I tell you that to say that on Friday, while we were going all over the place to get his mouth evaluated I had several contractions. They were very sporadic and I knew they were because of stress. By the time things calmed down on Friday night, they'd subsided.

Flash forward to Monday morning. I woke up feeling fine. My Mom texted me and asked if she could bring dinner.

Um. Yes! Do I ever say no to that?

She asked what I would like and I, jokingly said "hospital food."

About 10:30 I noticed I was having several contractions and figured I should probably time them. I wasn't getting my hopes up because, honestly, they really didn't hurt too much. I figured they were probably Braxton Hicks (who is that guy anyway?) and that they'd pass.

Later, I went to the bathroom and noticed that I had lost a bit of my mucus plug. Again, I didn't think too much about it because I was taking some Mucinex medicine for the cough/cold the kids had so generously passed to me.

Share their cookies or dessert? Never. Share the kennel cough? Always.

Anyway, over the next hour I had several more contractions and continued with my pee-every-10-minutes habit. On the 3rd trip to the bathroom it was obvious that I was really loosing my mucus plug and these contractions, though inconsistent in time, were the real thing.

I called my OB's office. Since my uterus is so floppy, he'd told me to call and come in at the first sign of labor so that they could ensure that Baby Girl was head down. I got to the OB about 1:00 the nurse practitioner checked me and said I was a "loose 1." When she stripped my membranes though she said I stretched to 3 cm and not be surprised if I was a 2 upon leaving.

My mom and I grabbed some lunch and my contractions became a bit more intense as well as consistent. They were every 8-12 minutes but I was still able to talk through them. I decided to see if the chiropractor could get me in that day since I was hopeful I'd be giving birth in the next 24-36 hours (little did I know it would be sooner than that!).

I left the chiropractor's office about 3:30 and headed home with contractions coming about every 10 minutes. I called our babysitter/nanny Amanda and asked her if she'd stay for a while so that I could go for a walk when I got home in the hopes of getting these contractions a little closer together.

At this point, I was still not getting my hopes up. I was seriously thinking that it could all just stop or, worse, it could last for days. After all, I was hardly dilated at the doctor just a few hours earlier.

I got home and went for a very short walk because it was super cold outside. My friend Brittany came over (to walk with me) but by the time she got there, contractions were every 7-9 minutes apart. I called Luke about 4:15 and told him he'd better head on home. He got home about 4:45 at which time my contractions were every 3.5 - 5 minutes and we left for the hospital shortly afterwards.

We got to the hospital about 5:30. I was checked into the Labor and Delivery suite, the nurse checked me and I was about 5 cm. Within 30 minutes intense contractions began. You know, the ones where you feel like your pelvis is literally going to snap in half?

I had wanted so much to go into labor on my own and next to that I wanted to try to deliver without an epidural. Don't ask me why. I can't answer that. But I'd had epidurals with every other pregnancy and they'd only half taken so I figured I could do it without one. Luke was an amazing support for me. He kept praying over me and telling me that I could do it, even though I had some serious doubts as to whether or not I'd lost my mind wanting to do this thing delivery thing at all, much less without meds.

About 6:15 the nurse checked me and I was at 7cm. I labored about 30 more minutes and started wondering why labor and delivery had always been my favorite part of pregnancy. I'm pretty sure I thought I was going to fall into a heap of pain and misery right there on the floor of the delivery room. And I probably would have too had I not been so worried about not being able to get up. At about 6:50pm I asked the nurse to check me again. I figured if I wasn't progressing, then I'd go ahead and get the epidural. I was at an 8.5cm. The OB was called and he took a SWEET FOREVER TO GET THERE. I think he decided to walk backwards on his hands up to the labor and delivery suite.

Ahem. Not really. But it felt that way.

The OB finally arrived, I pushed for about 15 minutes and at 7:28pm Abigail Mercy drew her first breath.

Experiencing labor and delivery without an induction and without an epidural was just another confirmation that labor and delivery are indeed my favorite part of pregnancy. You know, besides that little part of pregnancy where you get a baby at the end.

We are all so completely in love with little Abigail and now, 12 days later, I'm finding it hard to remember what life was like without her.

All of the children are smitten with her. They ask me 7,592 times a day if they can hold her. Then they just sit and stare at her. I think we're all in awe that God has blessed us, yet again, with a beautiful, healthy baby.

Ella calls her "Baybay Ab-duh-dayle" and screeches every time she sees her. I keep waiting for her excitement with having a new baby to wear off, but so far it hasn't. She's just so sweet with her.

My amazingly talented and incredibly generous friend Lindsey was present in the delivery room and took the breathtaking photos you see here. You can see more by clicking here. Her photos make birth look like a fairy tale, don't they? I love that she stands with me in awe at the miracle of childbirth. What a blessing to be able to watch your children enter the world.

Introducing...

2012-03-08T19:07:00.000-05:00

Abigail Mercy

Born: Monday, March 5, 2012 at 7:28pm

6 pounds, 13 ounces 20.5 inches long

(photos by Light of Mine Photography)

We are so in love with her and we cannot stop praising God for His blessings. She's tiny but not for long. She likes to eat. A lot. :)

Birth story and details soon!

I'm words, he's numbers: Thoughts from the mind of my man

2012-02-24T17:30:00.002-05:00

I don't have a perfect marriage. In fact, my pregnancies take their toll on our marriage. I feel so miserable and pukey-bad for the first 4 - 5 months, love the middle 8 or 9 weeks, then I slip into that slightly-less-comfortable-than-a-beached-whale phase for the last 2 months.

Needless to say, I'm cranky for a lot of the time that I gestate our babies. My sweet husband fills right in where I leave off, taking care of kids, laundry, housework, you name it. But it's hard on him.

By far, this has been the hardest pregnancy for both of us.

Add to that that I'm a woman of many words and my husband is, well, a man of less than many words. Especially when he's thinking about something.

Typically I vomit my words all over him, holding little to nothing back, letting every passing emotion sweep across my lips like a flash flood in a monsoon.

But Luke, he's a thinker. I learned a little trick a few years ago on how to move from being a talker to a listener when I'm with my man. It's invaluable for understanding, hearing and really listening to my husband. (Maybe one day I'll share it with you all, if my husband promises not to act like he knows my secret.)

Anyway, just because my sweet man isn't much on for sharing his thoughts and emotions, doesn't mean they don't exists. Before we got married, I'd only seen him cry one time. He shed a few, tender tears during our wedding ceremony. Then, he cried when he found out his dog had died and when we found out his grandfather was in critical condition, likely to die within a matter of days.

Otherwise, he was cool, calm and collected (unless there's inclement weather, then not-so-much). This life of few words, and even fewer raw emotion was the norm. That was, until we had kids. Now, my man isn't afraid to have or show his emotion. And I love it. I love it so very much.

Even though emotion flows easily for him now, he still isn't one to pour out words. Maybe it's because he can't find the right ones or maybe it's because he likes to really make sure he's sure before he speaks.

I think it's because, in our relationship, I'm words, he's numbers.

Today, I got this email from my thinker husband. It brought me to tears and to my knees to thank my Lord that I have such a man who values our children as much as I do and who sees them as the blessing they are. Glory be, how I love this man of mine.

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From Luke today, via email:

So I find myself crying, sobbing, on the way to work this morning. I would apologize for being a man that cries, but I have learned to embrace these kinds of emotions. “You see Billy cried, because, well, he is a crier.” Through certain circumstances I was able to take my oldest daughter to breakfast this morning. As I am in the car driving, images begin to flash through my mind.

Elizabeth (age 7) being able to get herself completely ready. She took extra time this morning to ‘look nice’ for daddy.
When I get home from breakfast I see Ella, our youngest (age 2), getting out of the shower {I will not give any more details on that point}.
I said “see ya” to my very pregnant wife, carrying our soon to be youngest daughter.

You see, this pregnancy has been different for me. In the past, I have taken the role of caring for the older kids and didn’t stop, nor have much time, to think about our new child on the way. With the kids being older now, things are even busier, but it is easier for all of us to spend time together. With this, I am able to enjoy each child and the beauty of what each one holds.

As I am looking through the windshield I think about my 7 yr old daughter and how she showers me with so much love each and every day. Then I remember how proud my 2 yr old was for me to see her being a ‘big girl’. Then I begin to think of our newest daughter on the way and the moments of joy she will bring me as a father and I don’t even know what they are yet.

All of this brings me to the Throne of God. Humbled he would entrust me to make decisions for these children that will shape there lives. Thankful he would bless me with smiles across a breakfast table, naked babies soaking wet with a huge smile, and to feel my daughter move in the womb. I have such a large responsibility to be a Priest, Profit, Provider, and Protector for my family. God equipped me today.

Savoring

2012-02-22T10:20:00.000-05:00

I have a sweet (much younger) friend who is due with her first baby any day now. In fact, I snapped a few maternity pictures of her a few weeks ago, both of our abdomens swollen with child.

Isn't she precious?

As her due date slips closer and closer, I see the agony in her posts on facebook, begging her baby boy to come on out and meet the world. I can almost hear her exasperated sighs as she heaves herself off of the couch or out of the bed and shuffles to the bathroom yet again.

I can probably hear her fictitious sighs and empathize with her so well, because I am there too. Those sighs aren't aren't fictitious, they're being continually breathed through my own gritted teeth.

Only being a few weeks behind her in baby-growin' I can totally relate to my young friend. Granted, her uterus is probably a lot less floppy and unstable. And since this is her first pregnancy, and not her fourth, I'd be willing to bet that her hip sockets don't threaten to leave her nearly as frequently as mine do.

But none-the-less, I know she's reaching that pivotal point of miserable.

As I tried my best to encourage her to wait on that sweet boy and not rush for an induction, I found the Lord gently telling me so many things. Which prompted me to think, then write the following letter to myself from the recesses of my own, not-pregnant brain.

Dear 38 week pregnant (for the fourth time) self,

What did you really expect? I mean, this isn't your first rodeo. You know how these things go. You know that you've never, ever had a baby early. You know that you've never, even had a single birth without the help of that devil drug, pitocin. And, most likely, this baby isn't budging until that venom is injected into your veins. So really, maybe you should just chill out with all the natural and herbal attempts.

But more so than that, think about this....

This could be it for you. There is a very real chance that this could be the last time you ever feel those sweet baby kicks, bouncing baby hiccups and a tiny baby tushy rolling around inside you. As you ride in the car, lay in the bed and read stories to your babies, savor every second, every nudge, every painful shove because one day, you're going to miss this.

One day, many years from now, you'll see a largely pregnant woman waddling along and wish, even if for a brief fleeting second, that it was you stuffed into her too tight shoes. One day, you'll look at a mother, shuffling her kids around her like a mother hen with her chicks, her belly so swollen her hip bones are a distant memory, and you'll long to feel that swish, kick and jab deep within your belly. Heck, you might even wish for a foot under your ribs.

One day, when your children are all grown up and having babies of their own, maybe even when this sweet girl you're carrying inside you is carrying her own daughter, you'll vaguely be able to remember what if felt like to have a babe squished so tightly inside you.

One day, you'll know for sure that your child bearing years are over, your eyes will fill with tears, and you'll wonder how you ever got to this place where pregnancy was no longer an option. Maybe your future holds many more newborns, some from your own womb and possibly others from another woman's womb.

But treasure this moment. Treasure the time you have with just you and this sweet girl. Know, with confidence, that this time is fleeting. 30 short days from now, the likelihood is great that this girl will be in your arms and no longer sitting squarely on your bladder. You'll feel the twitch of a muscle, tenderly reach for your stomach and realize, all too quickly, that it's no longer a miracle inside you making that familiar sensation.

Time will fade your memories and one day and you'll wish you had savored these moments just a little more. You'll wish you had slowed down just a bit and enjoyed this time with your baby. Because before you know it, this sweet baby will be sleeping through the night, then using the potty and, all too soon, be able to live life without your constant care.

And in that moment you'll realize that you rushed these moments.

Floppy, Well Worn, Stretched

2012-02-17T14:15:00.000-05:00

Those are never words you really enjoy being used in reference to your body. Much less your uterus.

I went to my OB yesterday to see which way little girl was laying. Last week she was breech (butt down). Yesterday, she was transverse (sideways). The OB shifted her to vertex (head down) and then proceeded to describe my uterus in terms that one would enjoy if it referenced jello or homemade banana pudding or even the consistency of perfectly cooked noodles.

Basically, the OB told me my uterus was like a "well worn pair of jeans...nice and comfy," then "floppy and unstable" and finally, "stretched like a used rubberband."

He blamed the twins. I agree. They have a way of wearing things out quickly.

At this point, the plan is for me to buy a pregnancy ~~belt~~ girdle, catch this girl head down and tighten up my stomach so that she can't move. That should be interesting considering she's spinning around like the hands on a clock.

I go back to the OB on Tuesday where he will check her again to see which way she's laying. I'll be 37.5 weeks by then and he said something about me getting to around 38 weeks, turning her to head down then breaking my water so that I'll go into labor.

The good news is that I most likely won't go 42+ weeks with this pregnancy. The bad news is that it's looking like, once again, I'll be induced. Which bums me out.

But I'll focus on the fact that in the next 2 weeks it's very likely I'll have a sweet little girl to cuddle, nuzzle and sniff.

Home stretch, here I come. LITERALLY.

Turn, turn, turn!

2012-02-13T09:55:00.000-05:00

Well, if you don't follow me on twitter, or we're not friends on Facebook, you probably haven't heard the latest about my little in-utero trouble maker.

On Thursday night, little girl was doing some sort of alien type moves. At one point a perfect cone was standing an extra 4 inches tall on the left side of my stomach and the right side was a steep slope to the general area of where my hip bone used to be.

It was painful, to say the least.

Friday morning, as I showered, I found it harder than normal to bend over and wash my feet.

At my 36 week check up later that morning, my suspicions were confirmed. Baby girl is breech.

Thus my quest began and I googled everything I could on helping a baby turn from breech to vertex.

So far we've prayed, prayed and prayed. We've asked others to pray, our kids to pray, our friends to pray and begged the Lord for her to turn. I've laid inverted on an ironing board, propped against the couch with an ice pack on the top of my tummy and a hot pack on my pelvis. She moved, she kicked, she turned nearly half way. But this morning, her head was square under my ribs again.

Later this morning, I'm going to the chiropractor and hoping she can adjust my pelvis so that little lady has NO COMFORTABLE option but head down. I'll go again on Wednesday and on Thursday, my OB will see me and evaluate little lady to see if I'm a good candidate for an external cephalic version.

If those things don't work, I'm willing to try acupuncture, walking around exclusively on my hands and pitching a royal fit. I'm also willing to break out The Byrds, put headphones on my belly and blare it as loudly as possible.

I'm praying that when I go to the OB on Thursday, we will discover a head down baby, my water will break and I'll deliver her within the hour. I'd be happy if just the first statement is true, even if I'm praying for all 3.

How ironic would it be to have 3 successful, and pretty much routine, vajayjay deliveries - including a set of twins - and then have a c-section for this little stinker?

Motherhood is no joke

2012-02-08T00:00:00.008-05:00

As I swollenly sit on the verge of swaddling, nursing sessions, sweet little diapers and tiny baby noises, I remember, so vividly anticipating the arrival of our first child.

Eight years ago I held another precious baby girl in my womb. Nestled inside, I could only wonder what lay beyond the delivery room doors. You know, out in the real world. The world of sleepless nights, breastfeeding, colic and growth spurts. I wondered, very little actually, about life beyond the first 12 months of motherhood.

Consumed with thoughts of labor and delivery, soft spots, co-sleeping and nursery decor, I didn't think much about life beyond my baby's first birthday.

Now, that baby is 7.5 years old and about to be a big sister six times over. (And she's really awesome at the big sister gig, if I do say so myself. I think she's more excited about the baby than I am. Too bad people who only see us from a distance think our kids are "suffering" through another sibling.)

Eight years ago, I had NO IDEA that our lives would look the way they do now. Luke and I never really sat and planned out the whole big family thing. It just sort of happened as we followed God's lead. I remember six years ago, when we were eagerly anticipating the arrival of the twins, I would tuck Elizabeth into ~~bed~~ her crib (she was only 22 months old when the twins were born) and then I would sob over the loss of her childhood. I was so afraid she would be scarred for life by having Lucas and Ashlee dropped into her lap before her second birthday.

And if I'm being honest, some days I still worry. Not so much about Elizabeth but more now about Ella, Aaron and Olivia. Am I going to have time for them like I wish? Are they going to resent the baby because she will consume so much of my time? Will Ella have a hard time adjusting to her new life which will entail a lot LESS time on my hip?

But then there the things that happen that prove to me that our children will be just fine.

Olivia knocks her drink off the table and Lucas enthusiastically scrambles to clean it up for her, assuring her that it's okay and it was only an accident and "Bubby will get you some more."

Or a time when Ella is fussy because I'm cooking dinner and can't give her my undivided attention. So Ashlee goes out of her way to entertain her, finding every toy that Ella enjoys and playing with them so ridiculously that Ella can't help but giggle and squeal. Which frees me up to finish making dinner.

Or when I'm gone to Bible study and Luke is trying to put the little three to bed. Without being prompted, Elizabeth cleans off the table, clears all the dishes and puts all the left over food away.

She's SEVEN y'all. We've never asked her to do such a task because, well, she has chores and that's not one of them. But she did so because of the overflow of her tender, loving, serving heart.

God knew she needed to be first among this brood of kids. He knew. And just as He knew all the things that I was overlooking eight years ago as I carried her in my womb, He knows now. He knows that my mind drifts to life beyond the next 12 months much more now than it does the next 12. He knows just how much I want to SLOW DOWN TIME because I'm afraid I will forget so much. I'm afraid I'll look up and eight more years will have passed, just like the last eight have.

But I rest in knowing that the God who orchestrated the complex design of our growing family will lead us in the future, just as He has in the past, if we look to Him.

I rest in knowing that the time of sleepless nights, spit up, seemingly endless fatigue, cereal for dinner - again and loads and load of laundry will be short lived in the grand timeline of my life. I know that when I look back at my life 20 years from now, I'll wonder where it all went and I'll probably laugh at my immature self a whole lot.

Just as God has known from the very beginning that we'd have 7 children in 7.5 years, He too knows how the next months of my life will pan out as we transition to our 7th child. He is good. He is faithful. He's got an incredible sense of humor (I mean, COME ON, 7 kids in 7.5 years?)

And He knows that even though motherhood is no joke, most of the time, it's really funny.

Das Not Funny! Friday: The king is in danger

2012-01-27T15:30:00.000-05:00

Oh, it's been way too long since I did a Das Not Funny! Friday post. Way, way too long.

Not sure what Das Not Funny! Friday is? Well, nearly 3 years ago I wrote this little post talking about all the funny things our kids had said over the last several days. At the time, Elizabeth was 4.5 years old and Lucas and Ashlee were a few months shy of 3. Aaron was nearly 12 months old and Olivia was bouncing 5 month old. Our lives were, um, busy to put it mildly.

Our lives were (and still are) also hysterical. Kids kind of have that effect on life, don't they? They make things funny, often funnier than they intend. It never failed that one of our kids would say something funny and Luke and I would try our very best to stifle our laughter.

Typically, Ashlee would hear us laughing, give us the look in the photo above and say, "Mom! Das not funny!"

Which, in turn, made us giggle even harder. I have always heard my Mom, my grandmothers and other moms say that they really wished they'd written down the funny things their kids said when they were little. Well, Das Not Funny! Friday is my attempt to do just that.

Now, our kids are older - but equally as funny. Elizabeth is now 7.5 years, Lucas and Ashlee will be 6 in May, Aaron will be 4 in June, Olivia is 3.5 years and Ella is a feisty 22 month old.

Our lives are still busy and I really want to remember the hilarity of our young years with all these young kids. So here's goes nothing....

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Aaron said to me the other day, "Mom, you're belldy is realwe realwe big!"

Me: "Yep. It sure is buddy."

Aaron: "Jep. But it not popped yet!" Then he laughed like he'd made the biggest and best joke ever.

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Ella has developed a new, slightly inappropriate and yet totally hilarious habit. When I'm holding her, she pulls the neck of my shirt open as far as it will stretch, peers down the front of my shirt and says in her loudest 22 month old voice,

"Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww."

Awesome. Self esteem boost #1.

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Lucas enjoys telling me that I'm getting huge. I don't think he intends on it being offensive because I really don't think he understands that it's offensive to say that someone is "a big fat pregnant lady."

After several times of him lovingly patting my stomach and commenting that I "sure was getting fat" I though that maybe it was time to have a conversation with him.

Me: "Buddy, I know you aren't trying to be ugly, but most of the time it's not really nice to tell someone you think they are fat. It might be true but it still isn't an appropriate thing to say because it might be something that hurt their feelings."

Lucas: "Oh. Okay. But your stomach is getting fat. But I know it's because you're fat and pregnant."

Me (stifling a chuckle): "Yes. That's true. But sometimes people can get their feelings hurt because they are upset about being overweight and it's not nice to point it out to them."

Lucas: "Okay mom. I won't call anyone else fat. Even though I don't know ANYONE else as fat as you."

Good. Glad we cleared that up. Except, not really.

Self Esteem boost #2.

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I've been making a conscious effort to spend real, quality time with our kids before the baby comes. I know that when baby girl gets here, she will command most of my time and my 1-on-1 time with the others will be limited. With that in mind, I've been taking the kids off on Mommy-dates, which includes them choosing where we eat and where we go. I'm simply their chauffeur, bouncer and bank account.

This week, Lucas and I went out. He decided he wanted Japanese food so we sat, on the same side of the little booth and enjoyed our rice, while conversations of guns, army men and ammunition graced our table.

Suddenly, he asked me, "Mom, how do you say, 'I like red' in Spanish?"

Me: "Um. I think it's 'Me gusta rojo.'"

Lucas: "Me gusta rojo! How do you say 'The King is in danger'?"

It's probably a good thing he was beside me because I'm pretty sure I spit rice clear across the table.

Y'all have a great weekend!

Waiting for the good

2012-01-23T14:30:00.015-05:00

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28 (ESV)

The long stints in between posts in not necessarily a sign of busier times in our house (though that's true) nor a sign that I don't enjoy blogging anymore (which is not at all true) or even that I don't have anything to say (certainly not true, if you know me at all).

The truth is, I've always considered this a place where I can be real. Even in real life, I'm generally open, honest and fairly easy to read. Whatever crosses my mind generally comes out of my large, gaping mouth - which can often not be a good thing.

I've never been a person with many secrets (though I have some buried somewhere deep inside and locked away - trust me) and I've never really understood people who keep so much of their lives private and tucked away from the people they care about. In fact, I've often thought that the way believers can give God the most glory is to be real, to be honest and allow your imperfections to radiate the glory of God, show His immeasurable mercy and then rejoice in your imperfections being made perfect in Him.

And I still believe all of that. I'm not too worried about people coming to our house and seeing the sticky, mysterious blotches that are spattered across our kitchen floor. I'm not anxious about folks coming over for playdates and seeing the piles of laundry on the table in our living room. In fact, I don't even really care if everyone in the world knows that we eat off paper plates 90% of the time. (We're not green. At all.)

I understand that people judge us and think we're crazy because we have nearly 7 kids all ages 7 years and younger. I know that we are talked about when we leave the room and often people ask bystanders which are our "real kids" and which are adopted.

So I think my hesitation with coming here regularly and sharing my heart is because lately, I'm hiding more things in there. Pondering them, turning them over in my mind, wondering why none of the jagged edges become smooth with the constant turning and tumbling and wear.

Things that are more than just "am I parenting this child the right way" or "what if they figure out I'm not nearly the person they think I am" or "what happens if they see me looking less than up to par." Because the fact is, if you know me at all you know those previous questions don't get to me all that much.

The thing that keeps me from coming here and sharing the trivial, mundane and even the profound is the fear of being found out on a much deeper level.

What if I don't have this whole God thing as figured out as I thought I did?

Because the nitty gritty truth is that once you begin telling people that you've been called to be a missionary, they expect you to be some sort of super-Christian. Someone who has a direct line to God and who obviously knows more than the average Christian about obedience, Scripture and must have this super-human prayer life.

And I'm NOT good at dealing with that kind of pressure.

Last night one of our youth came into the kitchen where I was carrying on a casual "I'm a pregnant woman and here are my struggles" conversation with another pregnant, youth-worker Mom and he said, so casually, "I didn't know y'all were going to Africa?! Why did y'all decide to do that?"

Why did we decide to do that? Is he serious? I think he was sincere in his question and it wasn't like he was trying to make it sound flippant but clearly we didn't just decide one day to pick up our family of 9 and move to East Africa.

It's a delicate balance between trying to always seem confident and composed in your calling and wanting to shake people and scream, I don't have it all figured out either!

And it's not like we feel okay with sharing our struggles with just anyone. Because, good gracious, who do we share them with?

Supporters? Um. No. Because the fleshly side of me wants to continue seeming like we have it all figured out so that they don't lose their confidence in us. I mean, good golly, $8,000 per month is A LOT of money to raise and we don't want to jeopardize the faith that those who've already partnered with us have put in us. We need every supporter we currently have, plus about 200 more.

Friends? Yes, we can but typically even our closest friends can't really understand the hidden struggles we are facing. Because moving to a different continent is a tad different than moving across town or taking a new job or deciding to adopt. Not that we believe that any of those callings are any less spiritual or God sized but we are moving to a 3rd world country for crying out loud. It's like me trying to understand the pain my dearest friend has over her empty womb. I can try my best to understand, empathize and cry out to God for her. But I don't really get it. No matter how much I want to.

Family? Not exactly. Most of the family that has acknowledged that we're leaving isn't exactly supportive of our calling. Fueling their concerns and giving them more reasons to be opposed to us isn't exactly top on my to-do list.

Other missionaries? Sure. They are usually good people to reach out to and sometimes they can get it. But for some missionaries, they took no kids on the field with them. Or they didn't have to raise support. Or maybe they're sitting right where we are, struggling with the things God is calling them to do but their flesh is yelling out in defiance.

So Luke and I sit in our room most nights, tossing back and forth our worries, our anxiety and our fears. It's a lot like trying to throw back and forth a handful of spaghetti. The first few tosses go okay but eventually it falls apart and ends up scattered all around us in a huge mess. We're covered with failed attempts to grasp totally what the other is pitching out to us.

The one person I should be falling on my face before, the God of all creation, the Lord who called us in the first place, seems so distant right now. I should be falling before His throne, nose pressed to the floor, wearing a blisters on my face from tears mixed with our cheap carpet.

And that's where it ends. That's the struggle. Because I know that if I did just that, answers would come, anxieties would subside and fears would be brought into light. But I also know that nasty places in my own flesh would be revealed. Cancerous wounds would be exposed and I'd have to own up to the rotten flesh I've allowed to live and eat and grow on me over the last few months.

Cleaning wounds is painful. I have enough pain in my life right now. I don't want anymore.

In addition to all of the anxiety, fear and struggle I may have with our calling comes your everyday pain, conflict and struggles with our children, family, friends and just life.

It's a balance to keep it all in perspective and trust that in due time God will make all things work together for my good. But missionaries, pastors, best-selling christian authors and the like can't admit to the struggles with the things of great significance right? Especially as it pertains to their specific calling. Because aren't they suppose to know God? Like, really know God? Shouldn't people who really know God not have such struggles? After all, can't they just pick up their "direct line phone" dial up the Big Man and get all their questions answered, their problems solved and have peace with life all in a quick, easy prayer?

I've said this before, maybe not here but to others: I really think that in many ways living in Africa won't be nearly as hard as the getting there.

Please Lord, get me through the getting there. And heal me of my rotten flesh somewhere along the way. In the meantime, I'll be waiting to see how all of this will work together for my good.

Top 5 Pregnancy Myths That I'd Like To Beat With A Baseball Bat

2012-01-11T22:15:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about pregnancy myths and rumors lately. Mostly because they are things that people have said/will say to me over the next 8 weeks (that's how long until Little Miss is due to arrive.)

Basically, I would just like to dispel (based on my own experience) each of these once and for all.

I realize that some women experience pregnancy different from me and for those women I pray they have the hardest labors known to man. Oh, I'm kidding. Sort of.

Pregnancy Myth #1:

Nausea and vomiting are a result of the woman realizing that her world is about to change dramatically and is purely an emotional and mental response to that change.

Fact: When pregnant, I puke my guts up multiple times a day for weeks on end. Don't you think that I'd puke every day of my life if I thought kids were so emotionally overwhelming?

Pregnancy Myth #2

Having heartburn means your baby will be born with a head full of hair.

Fact: Every single pregnancy I've had heartburn bad enough that I've considered taking a fire extinguisher and shoving it down my throat in the hopes of momentary relief. And with each delivery, peeled onions have had more hair than any of the kids I've birthed.

Pregnancy Myth #3

Each time you're pregnant, your propensity to deliver on or before your due date is increased.

Fact: This is my 4th pregnancy, one of which was twins. One would think that since my uterus has been stretched to the size of a small house 4 times now, it would recognize that once it reaches a certain size it should expel its contents.

Not so much. I've been pregnant 4 times and each time I've been induced with the drug of the devil, pitocin. My last pregnancy the doctor let me go 2 weeks and 2 days past my due date and still my uterus didn't catch a clue.

I'm not expecting baby #7 any time before the ides of March. Et tu, Uterus?

Pregnancy Myth #4

Pregnant women glow and have the most beautiful/fullest/shiniest hair and nails.

Fact: I'm glowing because I'm sweating. Constantly. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's no deodorant or antiperspirant that can hold me these days.

As for the hair, my hair has grown less than 1/100th of an inch this entire pregnancy. And, my typically heavy shedding self has hardly shed at all. Which means, once this little girl gets here, our bathroom will look somewhat like a beauty shop that has never seen a broom.

Or a pet groomer's trash can. Either one.

Pregnancy Myth #5

Each subsequent pregnancy, after your 1st, has a shorter and shorter labor.

Fact: I WOULD NEVER KNOW because, like I said above, I've always been induced. I sure hope I can make #5 true, go into labor at 5:30pm and pop out a baby at 8:30pm like my friend Kari did.

Honestly, it was probably a man who thought up these stupid myths. Except for the fact that some of them are actually true for a vast number of women. And those are the women I de-friend while I gestate a baby. Not only on Facebook but in real life.

I'm only kidding. Sorta.

My 2012 "Must Read" Book List

2011-12-31T05:00:00.065-05:00

A couple of years ago Luke and I made a list of our goals for the upcoming year. I love sitting and looking at the year ahead as a blank slate and knowing that the Lord has complete control to lead us where ever He pleases. I love setting goals, listing things I'd like to accomplish and making an effort to be more intentional with my time. I'm so NOT Type A that this has been a work in progress and very much a God-led desire.

One thing I love to do, but don't get to do often enough is read. For Christmas, my parents got me a Kindle Fire. I was so stoked! I often don't have the time or energy to go to the book store or library to pick up my latest desired read. With a Kindle, it's all at my fingertips...literally. (And, I just learned that you can loan and borrow books from other Kindle users! Sweet!)

So, I thought that it would superb to make a list of the books I'd like to read for 2012 and try to them all (if not more) before this time next year. Of course, I say all of that with the knowledge that the list, the goals and the results are subject to change!

So, for 2012, I've made the following list of books I'd love to read. I wish I could say that I'd read 2 books per month, but the likelihood is that I'd only read 1 to 1.5 books per month. I'm comfortable with 15-18 books on my list for the upcoming year.

Here's my start up list. So far, I've got 14 listed so that gives me room for 3 - 4 more. And if I end up having more than 18 on my list, maybe that will motivate me to read 2 per month! I've linked the titles to the books on Amazon and the authors names to their blogs or websites (if I know about them and/or they were easy to google).

Right now, I'm about half way through The Well-Behaved Child: Discipline That Really Works! by John Rosemond. I'm hoping to finish it by New Years Day.

Kisses From Katie by Katie Davis

What Women Fear by Angie Smith

When Helping Hurts: How To Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting The Poor and Yourself by Brian Fikkert, Steve Corbett, John Perkins

When Charity Destroys Dignity by Glenn J Schwartz

Don't Waste Your Life by John Piper
I'd also like to finish Let the Nations Be Glad by John Piper

Not a Fan by Kyle Idleman

One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

A Deeper Kind of Calm by Linda Dillow

Loving the Little Years: Motherhood In The Trenches by Rachel Jankovic (This is a link to her posts on John Piper's Desiring God blog.)

Forgotten God by Francis Chan
Erasing Hell by Francis Chan

The Husband Project: 21 Days of Loving Your Man On Purpose, With A Plan by Kathi Lipp

I've also got 2 books on prayer and a couple that I need to read for AIM's Outbound Training Module.

Do you make a list of goals for the New Year?

Do you have a "must read" list for 2012?

What books do you think I should add to the list?

Happy New Year, y'all!

Mr & Mrs: An anniversary repost

2011-12-30T05:00:00.001-05:00

I originally posted this last year on our anniversary but I thought it was good enough to post again this year. Plus, I still feel the exact same way.

And since we are officially having our Anniversary Date Night tonight, I figured this was as good time as any.

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It is a big church. The most grandiose in stature in the entirety of our small town. The dramatic roof lines and towering steeple sit perfectly atop rock and brick walls adorned with stained glass windows, all situated on the precisely manicured lawn.

It's a beautiful church. And every time I drive by I think about what happened inside.

I stand behind two huge wooden doors, stained to a perfect deep brown, waiting to walk down a burgundy-carpeted aisle. So much awaits me on the other side of those doors. Love. Commitment. Beauty.

The wedding coordinator adjusts my veil and the train of my dress.

Deep breath.

The organ begins to play the non-traditional melody of an Scottish tune, reminiscent of our college Alma Mater. The doors swing open, everyone stands up.

I blink.

It's 8 years later. And here I sit, mother to 6, wife to a man who loves me in spite of who I am. A husband who loves wholly, sacrificially and beyond my understanding.

In our counseling session at Candidate Week we reviewed the many statistics associated with our personality inventories, marriage surveys and some other psychological profiles that we sent in ahead of us.

"You have an over-idealized view of your marriage," the gray haired counselor told me, over the rim of her glasses.

I sat back in my chair, turning her words over in my mind, trying not to be defensive.

Really? Because I'm pretty much a realist in every other area of my life.

At the end of the session, she agreed, my marriage is not over-idealized in my very matter-of-fact head. Rather, I understand that I am blessed. Beyond what I deserve.

Blessed with a man who guards the purity of our marriage so fervently that he refuses to be alone with other women, even in the context of work, where such a conscience is often considered ridiculous.

Blessed with a leader who fears the Lord and seeks, with his whole being, to serve him, even if it makes our family uncomfortable and unconventional.

Blessed with a confidant, someone I can pour my soul out to, the nasty, dirty, raw and often ugly parts and he draws me close and prays over me.

Blessed with a protector, a guardian of our home and our children and someone who takes that role so seriously, he is willing to risk it all for the glory of the Lord.

I smell the familiar smell of the church and take in the pews, full of people. I look to the opening in front of me and see him, standing at the end of a flower strewn aisle. He smiles at me. My heart flutters in my chest. I reach the altar unsure of how I'm standing there since it seems as though my feet hardly moved.

We exchange vows and rings and we both cry. I wipe his tears. More sniffles echo through the rafters of the magnificent sanctuary.

We turn and face our family and friends. We are Mr. & Mrs.

We celebrate. It's glorious. Even 8 years later. It's glorious.

It's no fairy tale and my days are certainly mixed with their fair share of meltdowns and tears. And some days the kids cry too. :)

But we've come through so much. We've endured hardships and know that more are coming. We laugh together often. We love much. He still dates me. He still stops, through the bustle of our home, to wrap his arms around me and let me bury my face in his chest.

We argue, annoy the crap out of each other and forget things that are important to the each other. But we chose love above all else. We chose to bind our hearts together with God as the glue.

We walk out the front doors of the church, and the cold air hits us like needles. We climb inside the magnificent limousine and the driver shuts the door. I look at my husband.

It's over. Man, that went fast, I think to myself.

I adjust my dress. He grabs my hand. We kiss.

The driver starts the engine.

And then, the journey begins.

It's nothing like the mundane

2011-12-29T14:20:00.001-05:00

Wow. I really intended to blog at least once or twice over the last week but somehow it never happened. We've been super busy around here with Christmas and just regular old life that a week went by in the blink of an eye.

Here's a synopsis of our last 11 days:

On the Thursday before Christmas I found out that I have gestational diabetes. NOT what I wanted for Christmas AT ALL. I go the 1st week in January to the diabetes center. The good news is that after more blood work, it looks like it will be manageable by just watching my diet.

On Friday I took Aaron to the dentist for a weird spot on his gums. Turns out, one of his front teeth is abscessed and it's coming out also in the 1st week of January.

My Mother-in-law was in town for a week and the kids and Luke and I enjoyed her company.

I've been going to the most awesome chiropractor two times a week because I was on the verge of not being able to walk. It was awful. Apparently my pelvis hates me. After twice a week adjustments, we're back on speaking terms.

Yesterday Luke and I celebrated our 9th's Anniversary. If you consider "celebrated" putting the 3 little kids to bed, letting the 3 big kids stay at my parents' house and us playing stupid, addicting games on our iPods. The secret to our marriage is spontaneity or the lack there of. We're going out tomorrow night to celebrate the diabetic way. Whatever that means. I think it means no Cold Stone Ice cream which sounds like misery. I'm sure my fabulous man will come up with a good idea of where to eat that doesn't include lots of pasta, since our Go-To place is italian and clearly Italians aren't diabetic because, oh my word the pasta.

I love pasta.

Ahem.

Little Baby Girl is approximately 10 weeks away from making her appearance. I use the word "approximate" loosely. VERY LOOSELY. If she comes before April, I'll be impressed. I'm due March 10th. I was due with Ella on March 8th and they (finally) induced me on March 23rd.

See? I'm not getting my hopes up that she'll come on time or even early, though that would be awesome.

We have a name we like a whole lot but for some reason I keep looking at names. I'm pretty sure this is the most indecisive I've ever been about picking a name.

So that about sums up our last 1.5 weeks. Nothing like the mundane, right? I mean it, it's nothing like mundane.

A Sunday link up

2011-12-18T10:42:00.000-05:00

Lucas is running a fever this morning. So while Luke is at church with the other kids and Lucas is laying in the bed watching cartoons, I thought I'd link you guys to some great posts I've read over the last week or so.

1st up, Missy at It's Almost Naptime reposted her blog In a Stable. It's good y'all. Go check it out. You won't be sorry.

Amy at Building the Blocks posted last night about having no more room at their children't home in Guatemala. It's heartbreaking that they'd have to begin turing children away. Please read her post and see how God is moving you to act.

Finally, the Livesay Haiti Weblog's post about how to Let Go of our stuff and move forward with the life that God has called us to live sat with me for days.

Hope y'all have a great Sunday!