Five Things I Love About Jesus.

Thank you, Melissa, for the tag.  This is the best Meme yet!

The five things I love about Jesus:

1) His majesty. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. I never need to worry. He is bigger than all of it. Always. Forever.

2) His gentle way. We have this beautiful print in our hallway. I think it does more for me than for our children, for whom I placed it there. Every now and then it catches my eye and I always have the same thought; I am His child, too, and He loves me. I need to stop trying to be too big for my britches. He can be the  Good Shepherd and I can just be the sheep.

3)His forgiveness. There have been times throughout my life that I have felt cut off from Christ's graces, from His forgiveness and aid. All from my own doing, my own retreat. He is always there, always waiting for me, always willing to forgive me. 

4) His candor in the Gospel. Jesus spoke clearly. He did not try to put things "delicately" to make it easier on the palate. Some things really are black and white. There is a right and a wrong. I love Jesus for that. Like Fr. Corapi says, " If you're too open minded your brains will fall out." Jesus gave us clear instructions, Commandments, for True happiness, happiness in Him.

5) That He gave us His Mother. Hanging on the cross, just before death, He said to the disciple, whom He loved (aka US), "Behold, your mother!" and to His mother, "Behold, your son!". Thank you, Jesus. She is beautiful and has never left us when we fled to her for assistance. We do NOT "worship" Mary. We adore her. We ask for her intercession. Our Father asked us to. And we worship Him.

Now, I tag Christy. Happy contemplating!

Spoiled.

Wonderful friends, indeed. 

Sweet Carrie came today to bring me some much coveted nursing tops that are actually cute. Really cute. And a nursing dress that I can wear to Mass! Thank you, Carrie!

Delicious meal #9 was brought today by another prayer group mommy who is due any day now. For dinner; baby spinach, chopped celery, carrots, tomatoes, yellow pepper, cucumber and radishes, bacon bits, sunflower seeds, salsa ranch dressing and potato rolls. For dessert? Fresh blueberries for Mommy and chocolate chip cookies for Daddy and the kidlets.

Blessed indeed.

My comeback.

Okay, so it HAS been awhile. For that, I am sorry. Truly sorry. I have had the busiest two weeks of my entire life. Whoa. Here goes....

I have learned many, many things since my family size grew, overnight, from five to six. I have learned that: big babies are better eaters, sleepers and poopers than small babies, that God does in fact know what he's doing regarding the timing of their birth. 

That three adults and four children in 700 square feet can feel a teensy bit cramped. 

That regardless of the time, who's throwing a tantrum, or who needs to eat dinner, when it's time to nurse the baby it's time to just sit down and take the next 20 minutes to nurse that baby. 

That babies don't understand that we're "busy right now". 

That it's possible to have four children crying at the same time, all for entirely different reasons. That it's possible to console each one, in the order the complaint was received of course.

That you can buy 12 different kinds of Binky's and the baby still prefers to suck on the back of the 17 month old's chubby hand.

That when you surround yourself with wonderful, faith-filled women who value family, you get about 8 HUGE meals which you can freeze and use to feed your family for WEEKS!

That most of those meals will be chicken enchilada casseroles.

That the vacuuming and the laundry and the dishes and the cooking and the baking and the sweeping and the 22 "thank you" cards and the phone call returning and the dusting and the toy cleaning up and the paper reading and email responding must all be done during that time period that people are referring to when they say, "sleep when the baby sleeps". Um, okay.

That it is totally possible to go to Walmart AND get items that you are in need of with four kids. It might not be quiet. It might not be quick. But it IS possible. And it's possible to feel a certain amount of pride when people look at you strolling along, with your 17 month old strapped in the cart, your two week old in the Bjorn on your chest and the 3 and 5 year olds with "one hand on the cart at all times". Pride in your family and pride in your children. Each one of them.

That the recounting of an entire day can be summed up in one small sentence, the very first sentence in fact, that your toddler has learned to say; "I'm sorry, Ella." And, no, he still can't say Mommy.

That even though you're back into your size 8's, they don't quite fit the same way. In fact, they're a little more snug than they were pre-pregnancy. They must have shrunk.

That hand-me-downs are beautiful gifts from GOD.

That building a new house while also welcoming a new member to your family has the potential to make a 29 year old grown man giddy like a teenager. I don't know who has been more excited, Steve or the kids.

That grandparents, like hand-me-downs, are beautiful gifts from God. Invaluable in every way. That parenting is made so much easier with their help, their supplement.

That structure and routine are not only useful, they are necessary. They make one who is sinking able to swim. They make unruly and bored children entertained and enjoyable. They make a "surviving" family able to thrive. We do not have enough of these two things right now. We are working on it. We are getting there. But we don't have enough. One more week.

That cell phones die during the most critical moments in an important conversation and 3,000 ants can somehow find and survive on a single cheerio. Even if you use ant bait. Even if you spray them. Even if you sweep 17 times a day.

That each child still needs alone time with Mom and Dad every now and then. Even if they say they don't. Even if they say that they'd rather just play with their sister or brother. That giving a child a sibling is sweeter than giving them cotton candy.

That my marriage just got stronger. My family just got bigger. My life just got busier. That although our quaint little rental just got exponentially smaller, the room in my heart just expanded. We just became richer.

So, that, my friends, is what I have been up to, what I have been learning. I thank you for your love, your generous and regular comments and prayers and your support. I thank you, sweet Grandma and Noni for your help over these last few weeks. You mean more to us than you can ever know and we can only hope to be able to fully repay you one day. 

Check.

First time making it through Mass with four children. It was a beautiful thing.

(They ALL slept! AND we had Noni here. I have a feeling the real test is to come.)

God's Grace: Our Roan.

We did it. We did it! Seriously, we did it!

Thank you so much, prayer warrior friends, family, and all those we love. As most of you will recall, my faith in this whole process was seriously faltering. I was losing all trust. I kept asking God why he was making me PROVE that I trusted him. I began to lose hope, even being willing to go into the hospital on the night of the 11th and have a little prostaglandin "nudge" to get me started. 

God is good. He is just so dang good. The morning of my birthday started out lovely, with breakfast, cake and cards. My mom got here around 11 and was such a lifting presence. When she got here, she started playing with the kids and helping out right away. My spirits were still down at the thought of being a "dud" and the fact that I might not be able to do this myself.

I knew that if I was going to go into the hospital that evening for a little nudge, I should rest. After Shepherd went down for his nap I got Curious George for the kids ( and Noni) to watch. I totally let go, relaxed and rested. Labor began.

I couldn't believe I woke up from a little cat nap in true labor. I didn't really trust it, but the contractions were stronger and varied between 3 and 7 minutes apart, slowing down only when I did. I just couldn't believe it.

I called the hospital to tell them I was in labor on my own now and we took our time, loading up, preparing, showering and I did a lot of praying. Prayers of thanks, mostly, and few requests for help and trust.

When we arrived to check in, my midwife was there waiting for me. God really blessed us with her. I cannot believe what a strong bond I felt and continue to feel with her--after having delivered three out of four of my children. They put me on monitors and she checked me. I was dilated 4 cm and was prepared that this natural labor might take longer than I thought. After being on the monitors for 20 minutes, we were free to walk and labor.

We walked, slow danced, Steve whispered in my ear, we walked. Noni walked with us, trying to stay out of the way and be supportive, but all the while I could feel her prayers on me. I could feel her presence. Steve was such an amazing "coach"--calm, gentle, strong, and faithful. He never wavered.

We went back up to be on monitors and for them to check me again. I was at an 8! They called the midwife. She was already on her way. Divine? Absolutely. Straight from God? No doubt about it. He just wanted me to trust Him. All along.

Sherry (our midwife) broke my water. We knew things were going to get intense and go fast after that. I had prepared myself for it and started saying some of my labor meditations and prayers. Things DID get more intense. They did NOT go fast though.

Pretty quickly, it became apparent to Sherry and me that something was wrong. The baby was posterior. This was going to be a little rougher than we thought. Let's just say, I owe everyone in that room earplugs. While Sherry tried to hold my cervix out of the way I tried to push. The baby just wouldn't come down. I tried to sit up, sit forward, lay back, lay on my side and rock. Sherry asked me to get up and get on all fours. At that point, I would have stood on my head if she had asked me to.

I rocked and swayed and screamed on all fours for what felt like hours and seconds all at the same time. (I've heard it was more like 30 minutes). I rolled back over and felt the baby move into position and drop from his stuck position behind my pubic bone. It was beautiful. I FELT it. It was painful and exciting and scary. I asked God why He had forsaken me. I couldn't do this anymore. I am not that strong. Within about a minute, our beautiful son was in my arms. I DID it. 

Roan Harrison made his entrance with One. Big. Push. It was amazing. It was just amazing. Christ Centered, difficult, powerful, and amazing. I would do it again in a minute. Or, a couple years. 

Grandma and Grandpa brought Paxton, Ella and Shepherd to meet their new little brother. Seeing them running down the hall toward us brought tears to my eyes. They were so excited, bringing presents, kisses and laughter. Paxton still wants to name the baby James. Ella keeps wanting to refer to him as a "her". And Shepherd likes to stick his fingers in the baby's mouth and eyes and give him kisses and "pats". 

We are a family. We are blessed. We have God's Grace with us always. We have our Roan.

Eat your hearts out!

Roan Harrison Prentice was born 7/11/07 (on Mommy's birthday) at 10:00pm. 8 lbs, 6 oz, 20.5 in long.

Much more to come later!

Dud no more!

We're off to have a baby--I was going to be induced at 7pm tonight...but, God wouldn't have it. 

My mom arrived this morning to sing, bring presents and play with the kids on my birthday.  I couldn't be happier that THIS is the day God decided that a new one should enter the world. He did it for my mom 28 years ago. Now He's doing it for me. 

Thank you, God, for not giving up on me. Thank you, all of my beautiful prayer warrior friends. You have lifted me up like the eagle's wings and now I will prepare to stand in the radiant love of the Lord as he carries me the rest of the way.

Oh how ready we are!

Feeling better today. Still sad and a bit disappointed, but better. We'll see what the day has in store.

Title: Weakness.

Again....no title because blogger won't allow it. Nice. 

So, I am getting in the car in 20 minutes. I am driving to Seattle. The driving alone will kill 5.5 hours roughly. 5.5 hours where I don't have to bend over, pick anyone or anything up, and I can cry all I want. I can can just sit there, drive and cry while my children zone out on Milo and Otis. 

I contracted ALL day yesterday, convinced that we'd be making our "child care phone calls" by mid-evening. Uh, no. Nope. Didn't happen. Then I went to bed. Then I woke up. Still pregnant. Still uncomfortable as hell, with a foot permanently lodged underneath my right ribcage. Still on the verge of tears. Redemptive suffering for me, personally? Totally okay. Important now and then, really. Self denial. Growth. Redemptive suffering for my three children and poor husband who never signed up to ride this ridiculous roller coaster? Redemptive suffering for a 17 month old whose Mommy can't really even play with him except from a chair because she's so uncomfortable? Not fair. Not at all. Nothing THEY signed up for.

So, I changed my appointment. I knew I might need to buy myself more time. I was supposed to have a doctor appointment this morning. I moved it to Thursday. After I see my midwife (who is really more like an allopathically trained physician who routinely practices medical inductions and who has induced me twice now) I will likely be induced on Thursday. I will likely feel like a failure, like something is just wrong with my body that I cannot seem to just cook a healthy child in a decent amount of time and then spit them out on my own. I will likely feel like I don't want to tell anyone how I feel. I will feel disappointed. I will wonder if this is all part of my own personal torment and suffering. I might also feel so relieved to be done with all of this. So relieved to have some mobility, a reprieve from daily tears, joy, frustration, exhaustion and irritation, from self-pity, and feelings of just being sick and tired of being sick and tired. The novelty has officially worn off. I have prayed rosaries. I have walked. I have prayed. I have walked. I have asked two different prayer groups I am in to pray. I have stayed busy and active.  I have tried natural induction methods. I have tried to "just relax". I have tried to distract. I have really tried to maintain a really positive outlook and complained as minimally as I could (with everyone except Steve, of course. Sorry, Love.) asking for grace MULTIPLE times throughout the day. 

Sometimes, it's okay to just lay it on the table. Right?

I can't do it anymore. 

Just when you're about to give into self-pity...

the daily Gospel reflection and prayer reminds you to try to be a little more like sheep. 

No title because blogger won't allow it. Good times. 

Please tell me it's okay to cry. I am so uncomfortable and really starting to give in to despair. I swear, if one more person calls me to ask if I've "had that baby yet", I am going to lose all grace. It's quite amazing the people that come out of the woodwork, people you don't hear from in six months, to ask you when you're going to have that baby. Why?

Hi. Just me. Still here. Getting bigger and bigger and....

A little cheese, mushroom and olive pizza and some Peter Pan. This Friday family night? It's sure to be a good distraction.

Learning lessons.

We had such a wonderful day yesterday, filled with a slice from a cherry pie made to feed 3,000 people, walking around listening to live Christian entertainment in a nearby small town called George. George, Washington.

There was BBQ-ing, contracting, lots of water for everyone, lots of heat to go around, festivities, minor crankiness (never from Mommy, of course), napping, fireworks until quite late, and more contracting. I know Steve was nervous about how I'd hold up throughout the day. I think I impressed him. Right, Honey?

I forgot one very important detail. Our children? They went out to our property with Daddy early in the morning. They met with Vic, our excavator. They climbed up in the track-hoe with Vic. They OPERATED it "for" Vic. They LOVED it. So, between fireworks, at giant cherry pie, and operating a $200,000.00 piece of machinery, the fact that they STILL haven't gotten to meet their newest little brother or sister seemed immaterial to them.

See? In God's time, not mine.

Added to the list.

Now my precious 17 month old can also say "No way!", "hat", "balloon", and "Thank you!".

What's that you asked? Can he say "Mommy"? Um, yeah. No.

Again, if I were the sensitive type I might take this personally. Thank goodness I am always calm, cool, collected and very rational about these sorts of things. Yes, thank goodness. Now, if you'll pass me the tissue..

Dud.

When I was in labor with Shepherd and peetered out at about 4 cm, finally needing to have induction medication, I took on the label "Dud". I was really hoping to redeem myself with this baby.

I am a very miniscule 1 cm dilated and 75% effaced. Dud?

You decide.

And, no, I don't care at all that it's supposed to be ONE HUNDRED AND TWO DEGREES outside over the 4th and 5th. I am perfectly content still being pregnant. I'll just be naked. Indoors. Sipping lemonade.

God, please help me to bring this baby forth like you designed. And soon. I am so sorry that I made a mistake when praying to you earlier on in my pregnancy. I prayed for patience. I'd like to scratch that now. Instead, can I pray for strength and excitement and no fear and ......expedition? Oh, great! Thank you! I love you. I knew you'd be totally cool with me changing my request.

Just me.

Still here.

Stay tuned.