The Truth about Owen's Birth

"I gave birth to an eight-and-a-half pound baby without an epidural."


The above statement is true, but so are the following statements:

If any other option had existed, I would have taken it.  I hated every minute of it.  When no one but my husband was in the room, I begged for a Cesarean.  Labor was harder than I thought it would be, and I'm pretty sure I don't ever want to do it again.

(But in the same breath... Owen was more worth it than I can explain.  It's been six months, and I still can't believe that I did that.  At least once a week, I look at Josh and say, "Remember when I gave birth?  That's pretty crazy, huh?"

I'm still wrapping my mind around the details of how it all unfolded and processing my emotions from that day.  "Owen's Birth Story" is a draft at this point- a draft that will hopefully be published this week, seeing as he is 6 months old today and all.)

So this is an unorganized blog post that is really lacking clarity at this point.  But here's what I need to say:

I gave birth to an eight-and-a-half pound baby without an epidural... solely by the grace of God.  Truly.  And not in the sense that "God's grace empowered me to do it."  I wasn't empowered.  I was at my absolute weakest.  It was the grace of God that my body just did what it was supposed to do for once in my life.

I read a lot (A LOT) to prepare myself for a natural labor and delivery.  One of the most helpful things I read was an article that compared labor, medicated or not, to white-water rafting.  Having braved the rapids a few times, that comparison resonated with me.  The analogy illustrated that a woman in labor doesn't control the course of labor any more than a rafter controls the currents of the river.  In both cases though, there are ample tools one may implement to help in navigating the turbulence.  A wise rafter may enlist the knowledge of a guide or map, the support of a team, the security of a helmet and life vest, and the help of an oar.

Being a bit of a "Resource Hoarder," I wanted as many tools as I could gather in my arsenal for labor.  We hired an amazing doula early in my pregnancy.  As mentioned earlier, I spent an insane number of hours reading books, blogs, and articles about labor and delivery.  Josh lovingly read books and articles to prepare himself to be my partner in this process.  I thoroughly investigated hospitals and doctors before making a decision about where to deliver. We took TWO birthing classes (one with our doula and one with the hospital).  We toured the hospital.  We watched the videos.  We practiced positions, breathing, and massage.  I exercised sparsely to prepare my body for labor.  (Josh jokingly -but accurately- claims that I exercised more in the few days leading up to Owen's arrival than I did in the entire 5 years he's known me.)

But did it even make a difference?  I'm not convinced.

I could list for you more than a handful of friends who have recently delivered their babies via C-section.  They were in better physical health than me.  They had determined to deliver naturally.  They carefully chose their doctor, read all the same books, took all the same classes, had the same plan.  But I had a natural delivery, and they had C-sections.

Why? I don't know.

But it reminds me to thank God again for His kindness toward me, and it knocks the wind right out of my prideful sails.

Now that November's over...

I don't know its origins exactly, but over the last few years many of my Facebook friends have participated in "Thirty Days of Thanks" during the month of November.  It simply entails posting something for which you are grateful each day.

When I declared that I would be sharing a "grateful thought" each day, it had slipped my mind that November, and therefore the Thirty Days of Thanks, was right around the corner.  So I took the opportunity to let myself off the gratitude hook.  I did post a few times during the month, but I didn't hold myself to the daily posts I originally intended.

I realize that seems a bit counter intuitive.  Shouldn't November be the month I give special attention to the maintenance of a grateful heart?  Well, yes.  And I did.  But I was able to do it vicariously through all of you who participated in the thankful phenomenon.  You see, the point of this exercise is to remind myself to thank the Lord for the blessings in my life, even on days I may have to search a little harder to find them.  Eleven months out of the year, I need the accountability of posting a grateful thought to Facebook or this blog.

But in the month of November, I didn't need the nudge to remember to find the blessings.  You all reminded me every day to look for things for which to be grateful.  Every morning as I read through my newsfeed, I'd find myself resonating with others' posts and giving a hearty "Amen!"

Alas, November is gone, and I will be resuming my (semi-)daily grateful posts.  And to kick off the first day of December, I'm grateful for all of you who did participate in the Thirty Days of Thanks.  I was encouraged and blessed.

It's a good thing he's cute.

Oy!  What. A. Day.

This morning I was feeding Owen in our bed before we got up to start the day. He had a major poop explosion... in our bed. (Remember how we just had our mattress replaced less than a month ago?)

I carried Owen over to his Pack-n-Play/changing table to clean him up. When I flipped him over to clean the poop off his back, he puked into his crib. And not just onto the sheet-covered mattress, but also into the mesh siding of the Pack-n-Play. That's super-easy to clean.

Time to call for back-up. Josh took a clean but naked Owen over to the bed while I began cleaning the mess. Before Josh could get a diaper on him, Owen released his (apparently) very full bladder onto our bed.

We went onto have a nice day.  I, of course, did laundry. We went out for a walk and saw lots of cute little Trick-or-Treaters.

This evening I prepared a bedtime bath for Owen. As soon as I put him in the water, he gave me some strong indications that he was about to poop. (I've learned from experience!) Josh ran over with a diaper, and we got Owen out of the kitchen sink and into a diaper as quickly as possible. Success!!

We wrapped Owen in a towel and gave him a few minutes to take care of business. During that time, he puked onto his towel and pooped out of his diaper.  As I was taking the ineffective diaper off to {finally} bathe him, he peed on our ottoman, living room rug, and his father's leg.

Owen is now sleeping soundly. Josh is taking his second shower today. I am so tired, but so glad that this constitutes a "bad day" for me. So many in this city had truly bad days today. I am blessed!

He's not an ugly girl!

Today's grateful thought stems from the last few weeks before Owen arrived.  Owen was born at 41 weeks and one day gestation.  To say that I was anxious for his arrival would be quite the understatement.  Truthfully, the last few weeks before he was born were very trying for me.  Yes, I was excited to meet my baby soon and wanted that day to come quickly.  But I was also just tired of being huge and swollen and not being able to lie flat because of heartburn.  I was a crabby, grouchy mess the last two weeks. 

I knew that my crabby heart was sinful, and that was when I really began making a conscious effort to focus on the things for which I should feel gratitude.  I reminded myself what a privilege it was to even be pregnant, and that it wasn't long ago that we weren't sure I would ever get to experience this.  I thought of how many babies are born too early and how those mamas would love to be in my shoes.  (That one really got me.)  I remembered that I had asked for enough time to get my home in order before Owen's arrival, and the Lord had been faithful in granting me sufficient time and then some.

I also came to a conclusion that the best thing I could do was focus my mind on something other than the fact that I was still pregnant.  That was not an easy thing to accomplish, and it certainly wasn't made any easier by the well-meaning questions from loved ones (and strangers) of "How are you feeling?", "Any signs it's getting closer?", "When are you gonna have that baby already?"  So  I became a bit of a recluse: I avoided Facebook, phone calls, text messages, and going out. 

But of all the comments and questions, the one that haunted me the most was, "You're having a girl, aren't you?"  Not once, not twice, but three times within one week, complete strangers assumed I was carrying a girl, one of whom was a medical doctor.  Perhaps I wouldn't have been as concerned had the sonographer been able to assure us of her certainty.  However, at the 20 week gender-reveal ultrasound, the technician just casually muttered, "It's a boy."  I wasn't even sure what she had said, so she repeated "It's a boy."  "Oh!" I exclaimed.  "Definitely a boy?"  Her response was: "No, I never say definitely."  Great.

I was sharing my concerns with my friend and mother-of-four Jena, who attempted to reassure me by reminding me that we had the definitive ultrasound picture of his boy-ness, didn't we?  Um... no.  They didn't print that picture for us, just head shots.  Hmm...

So in the midst of all my crabbiness those final weeks, I now also had internal angst that whenever this baby finally decides to come out, it's going to be a girl.  Don't misunderstand, we would rejoice that we had a daughter.  The problem was that we had nothing for a girl, no name, no clothes, no... nothing!

Once my due date passed, my doctor sent me for an ultrasound to ensure the baby was still thriving in utero.  Thankfully, the technician confirmed that Owen is, indeed, a boy.  Phew!  However she also told us she believed he was over nine pounds (which was not accurate, thankfully!), and then printed these lovely pictures for us:

Seriously?  I was so disturbed by the deformed-looking baby in the pictures, and even more disturbed that I didn't even think my own child was cute.  "I'm going to be a horrible mother, and my kid's going to be ugly."  (After Owen was born, I was relieved to see that he is indeed quite cute.  He just doesn't always photograph well.... *Ahem, he gets that from his father*)

Ten Days of Owen and Gratitude

Josh and I are so happy to announce that Owen Joshua Stahley made a grand debut last Monday, September 17, 2012, at 8:02 am.  He weighed 8 lbs. 7 oz. and was 20.5" long.

His arrival was amazing and crazy.  I'm still processing it all (with lots of help from Josh, as there are many details that I don't remember).  I'll give you all the gory details at some point. (I know, I know!  I still haven't even finished telling you our adventures in infertility.  It's coming.  Promise!)

What I do remember is that for the first several days, Josh and I kept saying to each other "I'm just so grateful {for ____, that _____ didn't happen, for how _____ worked out}!"  We both see the Lord's sovereignty in the major and seemingly-minor details surrounding Owen's birth.

We are elated and blessed (and tired)!  But we also know that hard days and sleepless nights are ahead, as well as a few behind.  I want to remember the overwhelming gratitude I feel now.  I want to remember how good the Lord has been, even in the sometimes mundane and small blessings of life.

So I've decided to keep a daily log of the things for which I'm grateful.  So far it's just been a log on my phone, which has been great to reflect over during 3:00 am feedings.  But I wanted to make the log public for several reasons, mainly that I need the accountability to remember to keep a grateful heart during difficult seasons.

So here's my goal:  Each day I'll share at least one thing for which I am grateful, even if some days are more "silver lining" kind of days.  Sometimes it may be short and sweet, and I'll just post it to Facebook.  Other days may require more explanation, so I'll post it here and link to the blog via Facebook.  Some will be vague; others will likely be specific.  And, as my blogging consistency indicates, there will surely be days that I forget or don't have a chance to post anything, and I'll have to play catch-up (as I'm about to do below).

Owen is ten days old today! So, without further adieu, here are the first ten things that have caused my heart to burst with gratitude:

Day One: Owen is finally here!  He is happy and healthy, and by the grace of God (truly!), I was able to have the birth experience I wanted.  Labor progressed (quickly!) without any of the major interventions we had hoped to avoid, while still utilizing the interventions we had decided were prudent in ensuring mine and Owen's safety.

Day Two: I feel so great!  Honestly, everything about pregnancy was harder than I thought it would be, including getting pregnant, carrying a baby, and labor and delivery.  But, recovery?  Now that has been a walk in the park in comparison.  I'm so grateful that I feel well enough to thoroughly enjoy having my sweet baby home with us.

Day Three: I'm grateful for Facebook.  {Silly, I know.}  It's such an easy and effective way to keep our friends and family updated with information and pictures, as well as seek advice from other parents, and keep up with the lives of our loved ones.

Day Four: When Owen was four days old, we took him to our pediatrician, where we learned that he had already regained his birth weight (which usually takes 10-14 days).  I'm grateful for such a healthy eater, especially after concerns in the hospital about his diaper production (a problem that has undoubtedly been resolved!).  

And speaking of birth weight....

Day Five:  I'm grateful that the last ultrasound I had a few days before Owen was born was WRONG. He was predicted to be "over nine pounds" (the technician) or "at least high eights" (the doctor).  While 8.7 lbs certainly wasn't a breeze, I'm really grateful that it was JUST 8.7 lbs.

Day Six:  My mom is here!  She arrived Friday and has been a tremendous help!  It's her first visit to NYC, but she is sacrificially spending most her time inside our apartment (or, more accurately, in our laundry room!).  Owen loves spending time with his Neanie, and I have a feeling she's pretty fond of him too.

Day Seven: Owen attended his first church service.  The Lord is working in the hearts of many people in our church, and we were blessed to celebrate baptism this past Sunday.  It was very exciting day for All Soul's Christian Church!  I'm grateful that the Lord is at work at All Soul's, and I'm grateful that Owen slept through most of it.

(on the front steps of the church building)

Day Eight:  In addition to gratitude that the Lord is calling people to repentance, I'm also incredibly grateful for the friendships we have formed with the body of All Soul's.  Our friends, the Gahagans, brought us a delicious meal Monday night.  In fact, we ate on the leftover for two more days!  We're very grateful for people who love us in practical ways!

Day Nine:  (So, this is more of a silver lining kind of day....)  In spite of my efforts to deny the validity of the thermometer screen, I ran a low-grade fever all weekend.  By Tuesday, we decided a trip to the doctor was in order.  Prior to our recent move, traveling to my doctor's office wasn't terribly inconvenient.  But now our options are: an hour and fifteen minute subway ride... each way... when it was just me going for appointments; or drive, which involves traffic, a toll bridge, and a major parking headache at our apartment.  (Another option would be a cab, which I tried at my last prenatal appointment, without success.)  All four of us headed out to the doctor's office, I endured a highly unpleasant exam, and we left without any definite answers.  The entire escapade lasted 5 hours.

Alright, time for the silver lining:  Owen was a champ!  He loves his stroller and the subway.  Nearly all the subway stations we used were stroller friendly.  But thankfully, my studly husband has no trouble lifting that Joovy Caboose (with our precious cargo soundly sleeping inside) and toting it up and down the subway steps.  And my fever is gone, and I'm still feeling great!

Day Ten:  I just clipped my own toenails.  Sometimes it really is the little things that can bring great joy.

An Update to My Previous Update

Wow!  You guys.... Thanks so much for the prayers!  This week has been such a roller coaster, but the Lord has certainly proven Himself faithful!

This morning, I asked you to pray for us today as we headed out with our broker in search of an apartment.  I also whined about a fantastic condo that we didn't get.  Well, we never made that meeting with our broker, and we didn't see a single apartment today.  Twenty-two minutes after I posted that first blog, our broker called....

Let me try to explain a little more about how the whole process works:  As I mentioned in the last post, a condo is different than a typical apartment building in that each condo is owned by an individual who either lives in the condo himself or leases it to tenants.  The condo building as a whole is managed by a condo board.

So in our particular situation, there are three parties involved:
-the owners (a married couple) and their agent (a real estate broker)
-the condo board (people who own condos in that building and live there) and their agent (a management company)
-us and our agent, Sarah

And the here's how the process typically goes:
-An owner decides to lease their condo
-The owner hires a broker to list and show the condo to prospective tenants
-The prospective tenants fill out an application and are approved by the owner
-The prospective tenants and owner jointly file a lease proposal to the management company for the condo board's approval
-The condo board approves the tenants

In God's sovereignty, someone made a mistake in the process and our paperwork ended up with the management company and condo board before the owners approved us.  This turned out to be fantastic for us!

In spite of all the paperwork, reference letters, pay stubs, tax returns, bank statements, and credit reports, the owners declined to approve our application.  Thankfully, the condo board and management company had seen our paperwork.  They got wind that the owners had denied us and called them to strongly suggest that wasn't a wise decision.  We're told that a representative from the management company informed the owners that we would be residents in that building one way or another, and if that owner didn't want to lease to us they could find another owner who did!

Also, on the day we first saw the condo (a week ago today), we just so happened to see a woman about my age coming out of the building pushing a double stroller with twin boys.  I stopped and chatted with her about the building, neighborhood, what she thought of it all.  We didn't know it at the time, but she is on the condo board!  So when she saw our application and heard we weren't approved, she went to bat for us, telling the owners that they really should reconsider us.

We've been waiting and praying all day.  We just received official word from our broker that the owners have decided to approve us!  We meet next week to sign the lease, and will hopefully be moved in sometime next week!  Thank you all for the prayers, texts, and comments!  We are so grateful for this good gift from our Father.  Great is Thy Faithfulness, O Lord, to us!

"Traci and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week"

Oh, where to begin?  Apologies are in order {again!} for my pathetic lack of commitment to keeping this blog updated.  I do have aspirations of being a consistent blogger.  I even have a list of blog post ideas (like a real physical list, not just in my head!).  But it always seems that there is something on my to-do list more important and more pressing than blogging.  Josh and I know we have friends and family *somewhere out there* who love us and pray for us and do actually want to hear how things are going in our lives and ministry.  But the physical distance makes it easy to forget, and keeping you all updated seems less important than it should.  We're sorry.  Will you please forgive us?

Here's the children's book version of my week:

We found a condo that we love... but the owner said "no."  That was mean.

And even though we have nowhere to go, we still have to move out of our current apartment SOON.

I'm 8 months pregnant.  This is my second move during this pregnancy.  When I spend all day packing, I start having contractions.

I had to go to the laundromat, because I had to pack my hospital bag, because it needs to be ready and accessible, because I may go into labor mid-move, because I have contractions just from packing.

It was storming when I went to the laundromat.  Man-hole covers are slippery when wet.  Skint knees hurt more as a grown-up than they do when you're a kid.

THE END

If you'd like the more sophisticated version:

A few of you are aware, and many probably aren't, that Josh and I are moving at the end of this month.  The Lord has granted us an amazing partnership with an existing church on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.  Hopefully, Josh or I will write more details soon explaining how strategic and exciting this arrangement is, but  for now, know that we are extremely grateful to the Lord for his provision.  Josh will preach the next two Sundays and begin teaching weekly classes in August.

The biggest hurdle to this partnership is that it is an hour's commute for us each way via public transportation.  We considered moving into a neighborhood that would put us closer to the congregation we're serving.  We sought wisdom regarding the timing of the move: Is it better to move 8 months pregnant or with a one-month old? We explored the possibility with our current landlord and bank accounts.  And it seemed the Lord was opening the doors for this move to happen at the end of July.

Our broker (also a friend from church) spent several days showing us apartments.  We continued to pray for wisdom regarding the needs for our family, our ministry, and our finances.  Then one day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and we walked into the *perfect* place.  It had everything we wanted in an apartment... and so much more!  An elevator building with smart-card laundry, big closets (comparatively!), hardwood floors, full-size stainless steel kitchen appliances, granite countertops, marble bathroom, trash compactor right outside our door for all the dirty diapers, beautiful gated courtyard entrance, air-conditioning(!!!), close to two subway lines, close to the park and the library.  We couldn't believe the price-- significantly less than what we currently pay.  The catch is: it's a condo, not an apartment.  That means each unit is owned by an individual, while the building as a whole is managed by a condo board.  It also means that it is harder to be approved as a tenant.  We spent days gathering and providing documentation that we are fine, upstanding citizens with spotless credit and more-than-sufficient income.  We have recommendation letters from employers and landlords that could get us elected to public office.  But in the end, the owners were just too skeptical of Josh's out-of-state income, and we were declined.

It was hard news to hear.  We have 90% of our apartment in boxes.  We have other tenants moving in to this apartment on August 1st.  We {I} have a uterus that likes to contract when I push myself physically.

But it was also good news to hear.  Josh reminded me that we can trust our Father's love and care for us.  We know there will be times we tell our son "no" to something that he desperately wants.  He may cry and be confused, maybe even angry with us.  But we will persist in our decision because we have more knowledge and wisdom than he does, and because we love him enough to want to protect him from things he may be unable to see.  So we rest in knowing that God is the Perfect Father who is infinitely wise, and He gives good gifts to His children.  We rest in knowing that He is the Creator and Owner of every inch of the universe, including every inch on New York City.  We know that He controls the heart of the king, and certainly the hearts of owners and landlords.

The Lord has continued to shape and sanctify me as I consider what my children's lives will be like.  When we lived in Birmingham preparing to move to NYC, I would cry every time I drove past one of the places selling outdoor playhouses and swing sets.  I knew my kids would likely never have one of those, because my kids wouldn't have a backyard.  The Lord (and my husband) worked me through that, and I accepted that my kids would just have to be content with Central Park and The American Museum of Natural History.  Ha!

Then we found out we were pregnant a week after moving here.  I began referencing all the magazine pages of nursery inspiration that I had saved for a decade. (Remember the pre-Pinterest days?)  But I quickly realized that I was in NYC now.  My baby wouldn't have a nursery.  He would have a corner in his dad's office.  I guess kids can grow up to be healthy contributing members of society even without a perfectly themed nursery to begin their lives, right?

And now I'm just a few days away from being "full-term," and we're staring homelessness in the face.  (Ok, that's a bit dramatic.  That statement probably belongs in the children's book version of this story.)  I have received an unusual number of requests for my mailing address lately.  So if you're one of the people who has emailed asking for my address, I'm not ignoring you... I just don't know the answer!

Would you pray for us?  We are heading back out with our broker today to start over at square one.  Please pray that the Lord leads us to the apartment that HE has decided suits our needs.  Please pray he leads us and our broker there quickly.  Pray for favor with  landlords, management companies, and all other parties involved.  Pray for a smooth and quick move, and that labor doesn't begin until after the move is complete!  Pray for Josh, as he needs time to prepare and rest before preaching.  Most of all, pray that the Gospel is evident in the way we conduct ourselves and that we would recognize and declare the faithfulness of God in this story.

We are grateful for your consistent love and prayers, even thought we are terribly inconsistent in keeping you informed.  We love you all!