Nothing but upsides.

In a little over an hour we have the second official meeting of the Elizabeth Group we kicked off a month ago. I am so excited to see the people I've been praying for again and to welcome any new faces. God willing, this group will just grow in strength and love--resulting in even stronger families in faith.

Then, I'm off to the baby shower that's being thrown in my honor (well, more like in the honor of this precious little person inside me). All gifts are going to be donations to Crossroads (our local crisis pregnancy center where I have volunteered for four years). Is that not the coolest idea?! A fellow prayer group member, volunteer at Crossroads, pregnant lady, and very good friend had this idea. I am so grateful for it. I think she hit it right on the money. I can't wait to tear into all those gifts and see what some very lucky, needy, and all too nervous mommies are going to be receiving.

Hopefully, all this excitement will thoroughly wear me out and I will sleep tonight. And then the baby will come out. Or not. We'll see. I'm cool with whatever. Really. I am. Hey, now the baby will surely have a July birthday just like me! Now that's worth waiting for.

iHuh.

I really want the new iPhone. I really do. Just to see what all the hype is about. If only I could figure out any of the buttons on my current, very simple phone. I am clearly not in Generation X or Generation Y.

Maybe more like Generation LY.

Nicole: The Putterer.

That's me. I am officially a "putterer".

How much longer can this continue?! Am I in labor or am I not? Day four and counting.

If only the feminists' angles were....

this:

"To a great extent the level of any civilization is the level of its womanhood. When a man loves a woman, he has to become worthy of her. The higher her virtue, the more her character, the more devoted she is to truth, justice, goodness, the more a man has to aspire to be worthy of her. The history of civilization could actually be written in terms of the level of its women." ~Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

Whoa. Imagine the powerful marriages our culture would have!

Time?

We've poured foundation. We're pouring stem walls. We have power, a honey bucket, a trailer and wireless so Steve can start working from our property--instead of the little office space he's been renting downtown. We signed papers to close on our loan this morning.

Good thing the baby hasn't come just yet because, frankly? We just have no time to labor right now. Maybe tomorrow.

I'm still here.

I just thought I'd update in case anyone was starting to wonder if I had dropped 13 pounds or so in the last couple of days. I haven't. Not yet, anyway.

I had pro-dromal contractions almost all night last night, waking up only for the duration of the "cramp" and then going back to sleep. I must say, as crazy as it sounds, it was very cool. I really visualized what my uterus was doing, with each wave--the work that it was doing. I am really excited about labor. Prayers have been answered. Mine and others. I can really honestly say, I am not afraid. Only excitement fills me now. I know it will be a lot of work and intense, but I am not afraid of it.

I have had some indicators that labor is close but, as my husband asks, aren't most of them pretty correlational? For the most part, yes. But, I'll take em' anyway.

We are keeping busy, researching and buying a used second family car, excavating land, walking, going to swimming lessons, walking, cleaning, walking, reading, walking, and visiting friends and walking.

In other news, I seem to be finding myself making vats of chicken noodle soup and chicken enchiladas. It just seems the thing to do on this HOT summer day.

Happy 29th Birthday To My Sweet, Beautiful Husband.

I love you.

We are breaking ground today. We are having our land blessed at noon. We are blessed with three amazing children. We are about to welcome another member to our family any day. Our parents cheer us on and support us, our children see us as heroes, and our friends enrich us. Our faith sustains us. All of these make us grow. I am happy to grow right alongside you, Love. Every step of the way.


So appropriate is today's Gospel reading. Matthew 6:19-23:

..."For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be."

You might be tempted to think yourself insignificant in the life of your seventeen month old.

Don't.

So what if he can say "Bye Bye!", "Daddy!", "Doggy!", "Kitty!", "Hi", "Balloon!", "Dora", and "Night Night" but he can't say "Mommy"? It's No. Big. Deal.

He's not completely broken. At least he can 'high five' you. And in this house? That's a milestone.

How to know when you're nesting.

1) There doesn't seem to be enough bleach in the world.

2) You have been baking. Lots. To fill up the freezer. For when people come to see the baby.

3) When you're at the store you buy baby nail clippers. You have three children already, one of whom still requires baby nail clippers. But you buy new ones anyway. Because new babies need new baby nail clippers. All to themselves.

Bleach, nail clippers, and baked goods. One can just never be too prepared.

What could be more fun...

...than a freshly tilled dirt pile to play in every week at Grandma and Grandpa's house?

A dump truck dropping off ten more yards. Just for your playing pleasure.

This just in.

This came today in an update that I recieved from the American Life League:

Last week, Planned Parenthood quietly issued its latest annual report. As always, the report was packed with lies about its “mission” to provide “quality health care” to women.

The one big truth in the 20-page report is that it got a total of $305,300,000 in free tax-funding last year. That’s a whopping 11.95% increase over the $272,700,000 it got the year before.

Let’s put that $305,300,000 in two equally important perspectives:

Perspective #1: Last year, Planned Parenthood surgically aborted over 264,943 preborn babies. As a ratio to the funds it gets on the government dole, that’s $1,152 for each baby torn apart in the womb!

Perspective #2: During the same year, the top five national pro-life organizations continued to receive exactly ZERO dollars in government funding. In the first six months of 2007, our own contributions are $160,000 behind the same point last year. And we’re the number one enemy of Planned Parenthood!

Dear Lord, thank you for the beautiful life in my womb and thank you for the work of these pro-life organizations who operate without pay, government tax dollars, or recognition for the MILLIONS of lives they save. Please continue to bless them and their efforts until Roe v. Wade is finally overturned.

How can this be?

Am I really old enough now that my baby brother has graduated high school? That he's almost 18? That he might no longer need the advice of his older sister? Never. I refuse to give up the advice giving. He might not need me for much more than that but I am sure, the advice will always be welcomed. Right, Kellen? Always.

Paxton and I drove over yesterday and watched as my little brother (all 6'3 of him) walked down the aisle, picked up his diploma, and moved his tassle to the left. Another ending. And another beginning. We sat next to my mom, noticing the tears streaming down her face every now and then. I am sure it's the strangest combination of happiness, relief, pride, and sadness that's occuring. It's an ending and beginning. It's exciting and it's scary. It's taken forever to get him here and it's flown by, almost overnight.

Being a parent is probably the most profound thing to ever happen to someone. It makes us grow, it tests our resolve, it strengthens us, weakens us, transforms us. Most of us will never make it out unscathed. The upside? God gave us each and every child for a reason. Gave US. You and me. These children. A reason. He wouldn't have given them to us if He weren't also planning to equip us with the graces necessary to do our jobs. As Danielle Bean says in her book, "God doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called." We just have to keep listening and heeding the call.

As an aside, does anyone have ANY idea when they started having more than one valedictorian? LIke, say, oh I don't know, EIGHT? No kidding. My brother graduated from a fairly large high school in a bigger city. Does that warrent more than one valedictorian? Um....I'm thinking "NO". Is it a sign of the times? Are we just beginning to celebrate mediocrity? Isn't the valedictorian supposed to be that one stellar student that excelled in every area, not only academically but socially, emotionally, intellectually? That one student that goes above and beyond in every area ALL the time? Isn't that like having four or five mvp's in a game? That was just a head scratcher for me. Steve and I had already decided that we were homeschooling after the 6th grade, but that really drove the decision home for us. For the most part, we're a society that seems to be raising children and therefore adults, who believe they are special just because...well, just because. That, my friends, does not breed humility, motivation, charity, mercy, generosity or Christ's love for neighbor.

And aren't those virtues the ones which we most want our children to embody?

Emotional? Hormonal? Me? Nah.

I can admit it. I'm sensitive.

My ability to filter information with any degree of accuracy or rationality might be compromised. I am weepy. I cry when I think of how blessed my marriage is and what a great team we are and five minutes later I cry, convinced that I am going to have to call in reinforcements when this fourth baby comes because our lives are entirely too overwhelming. I feel defensive when someone says I'm not big enough to be nine months pregnant and I feel like slapping someone when they say how big I am. Or when they guess that I'm carrying a boy/ girl because I'm carrying low/high or because my hips look wider/the same . I have heard it all, really. Like my midwife says, "It's amazing the things that people think they can or should say to pregnant people, as if by being pregnant it means one no longer has any feelings at all."

I cannot filter any longer. I am ready to stay in seclusion. Ready to hide for the next three plus weeks.

Okay, Nicole, snap out of it. Whine session over.

I have read the "Bradley Method", "Christ Centered Childbirth", "Spiritual Midwifery", and "The Bradley Method" again. I have note cards with scripture passages on them, juice boxes ready to be chilled and another pregnancy massage schedule for next week. I finally packed "the bag" last night and came to terms with the fact that, even though it won't, labor could begin any day now and with three small children, I can't really just leave it all to the last minute. For Steve's sake and mine.

I got some great advice from a friend of mine who has labored, at home, naturally, for hours, three times now. Are you ready? Here it is: "Stop thinking so much". In deciding that I am going to go "naturally" this time, I have developed this horrible habit about thinking all the time. Can I do it? Will people think I'm ridiculous? Will I be nice to those I love? Will I be a whiner? What if Steve doesn't pick up on that serious emotional signpost as I'm approaching transition and then we don't make it to the hospital and then I have the baby in the back of the van and then my memories of natural childbirth will involve blood-stained leather and awkwardly gawking pedestrians? See? It's just way too much thinking. I am going to stop now.

There. That feels better.

Realizing that I haven't blogged in about 11 days, I am feeling the need to talk about the Elizabeth Group that I kicked off two weekends ago and the beginning NFP training session that Steve and I went through. I say "Elizabeth Group" instead of Elizabeth Ministry because I just didn't like how limiting the Ministry was, only really being something for mothers who are childbearing. I really wanted something for all mothers of young children, a prayer group, a bible study. Our parish has SO many young families and we all need to be connecting and praying for and with each other. I am SO excited about it and our first meeting went off without a hitch! We'll meet the last Saturday of every month, praying for each other every day until then, when we'll have new prayer intentions. I wish I could convince every woman in my life to join a women's prayer group. It is just so wonderful to have the emotional support, fellowship, bonding and healing that is so important for women to have. We are not whiners (with the exception of me, see: earlier in this post). We are not husband-bashers. We are not gossipers. We are sisters. We are optimists. We are faithful. We are Hearts of our Homes.

The NFP training was great, too. After reading Christopher West's book, "The Good News about Sex and Marriage" over three years ago, I could not go on living in the bubble that I had. I could not pretend that it didn't matter any longer. Once you know and have heard the Truth, you can't "un-know" it. It's right there, in the biggest book of all. It's the difference between asking God to enter into your marriage at ALL times and telling him, "No thanks. You're not invited in here right now." NFP isn't natural contraception. Because it isn't contraception at all. At no time are you telling God that He's not welcome. Oh....I could talk about this for hours! I'll shelf it for now though. Suffice it to say, it'll definitely be more work to be keeping track, charting, and...GOD FORBID.....talking. To be communicating about our marriage, our humanity, our fertility and our family. On a regular basis. To be in it together. Truly together. An interesting tidbit? To paraphrase, "while there is little difference in the divorce rate between couples who say they are Catholic and couples who aren't, the divorce rate amongst couples who soley practice NFP is virtually non-existent." How about that.


Do you feel caught up with me yet?

What does one say?

Me: Working out at Curves this morning, minding my own business.

Woman next to me on a machine: So....you don't work, right?

Me: Um....at home, all day. I have children.


I either sounded like the biggest village idiot that ever came around the pike or I sounded like the most judgmental shrew for insinuating that I work HARDER because I stay home. Will this ever get easier?

Last Days.

This morning, we got up and made airplane and helicopter pancakes for our 5 year old and talked about big things to come. Today is Paxton's last day of 4 year old preschool. He will officially be a "kindergardener" at the end of the day. Can he be old enough? Can Steve and I be old enough?! This morning felt like the end of an era.

Yesterday, the Kindergarden teacher invited all the parents to come sit in on a regular class session during the morning period and then to come back with our future kindergardeners for about an hour and half in the afternoon for a meet and greet with their new teacher. I took advantage of both and was so grateful I was able to. I watched how she interacted with those sweet, almost 1st graders. How she commanded their attention without yelling, threatening, or demeaning. I watched as they read aloud to her, as they wrote STORY PROBLEMS for their math equations and as they helped each other. I watched as they began their Read Well program, sitting on the floor. Then, outside, a siren could be heard. Immediately, they put their books down and began making the sign of the cross. They waited for the teacher to begin her prayer for anyone who may be injured. She concluded her prayer and they resumed with their lesson. These kids knew that that's what we do. They began before the teacher. Can I ask you how cool that is? How cool is it to have your children be educated in an environment where the teacher gets to utter the phrase "In Jesus' name" and not have to worry about prosecution?

We are so blessed to have what we have in this parish and this parish school.

Ella gets to spend the weekend with my mom, having some one on one quality "Noni time" and we get to play around here with the boys--who are looking more and more alike every day and making me realize just what a family we have become. Paxton helps buckle the baby into his seat, Ella watches out for him when they're in the front yard. Paxton helped Ella put her shoes on yesterday and when Ella locked herself in the bathroom on accident it was Paxton who began to look very worried and started to cry a little. When Shepherd heard Ella banging on the door and crying, he started crying. Can you guess who wanted to cry then?

Families who cry together stay together. We are a family. We talk. We laugh. We sing. We cry. We play. We grow.

I have a feeling that when I go pick Paxton up I might cry. On this, his last day, it feels like a beginning. Beginnings are beautiful things. And so, sometimes, are endings.

Holy articulation, Batman!

Ella: Mom, do you want a bite of my sandwich?

Me: No thanks, honey.

Ella: But, mom, it's wonderfully delicious!



I have a feeling that 3 year old preschool is going to seem wonderfully unchallenging.

Gratitude.

I could tell how many people were praying for me this weekend. I thank you and them. It was completely evident that I was not alone.

The retreat was amazing, just the right balance of structured time and "homework" and time to just be. Time to just reflect and pray and let the Holy Spirit use me, breath for me, speak to me. It's amazing the calmness and peace you can feel when you take away external distractions. It's amazing where you see God. Where you feel His majesty and undying love. I am not worthy.

I also realized just how much women need other women, specifically mothers. We are so hard on ourselves. We doubt ourselves. We can isolate ourselves and punish ourselves. We can live in fear and torment. We can get so fixated on what others might think of our motherhood that we forget that it's God whom we are doing this for. It is He who will strengthen us, comfort us.

John 15:11
I have spoken these things to you so that my joy might be in you and your joy might be complete.

Labor has been on my mind a lot latey. (With just over 5 weeks to go, how could it not?!) I decided about four months ago that I was going to offer my pain to God, as redemptive suffering. There are a few people in my life who live with pain all the time. They suffer a cross that is heavier than I would want to bear. Having had three inductions, and three epidurals, I have yet to endure the entirety of labor pain. I want it to be different this time. I want to trust God's timing. He has a birthday for this baby. He has a plan. Three times in a row now I haven't been willing and/or able to stick it out and trust His plan in the timing or in the ability to survive the pain.

II Timothy 1:7
For God did not give us the spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self control.

John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

His peace is much different than the peace given by worldly things. We may not be able to overcome the fear of birth, but God is perfect and it is His perfect love that can cast out fear for us. We have to let Him take it from us when we are unable. Fear is from Satan who wants to torment us. (Christ Centered Childbirth).

1 John 4:18
There is no fear in love. But perfect love casts out all fear because fear has to do with torment.

I am reading "Christ Centered Childbirth" and "The Bradley Method". I have been laughed at and questioned. "What's the big deal?", "You're crazy", "Why would you do that to yourself?" have all been comments I have received. I do not feel judged. I feel sad for these women. I feel how much they are not understanding my purpose. I do not believe pain relief medications are inherently evil. I have three beautiful children to prove that. I do not believe that people who seek relief are weak. I do not believe that it makes you "less of a woman or mother" if you get an epidural. I do not believe that it means you are lacking in faith.

I do believe that I, personally, can offer this pain up and pull Christ into it with me. I do believe that I have been fearfully and wonderfully made and what a better opportunity for me to prove to God just how much I love and trust Him. I do believe that I can use this as a prayer of supplication for me, for my family, for my children, for those I love who have to endure pain on a regular basis. And even, dare I say, a prayer of gratitude. Gratitude for a body that allows me to bring forth life. That allows me to carry a baby. Because there are so many women who cry themselves to sleep at night because they can't.

Because of original sin, childbirth is supposed to be painful. Because of Jesus' love we are supposed to seek His grace and comfort.

Retreat.

Literally.

I am retreating. I am heading up this weekend to what is sure to be the most peaceful and calming retreat. We have a Marian theme this year and I will be surrounded by friends in faith--the best kind.

I am so grateful to have the blogger friends that I do, the kind who give support and encouragement all the while inspiring me to look deeper and to see farther down the road. I am grateful for family and extended family who understand my vocation and make me feel appreciated. I am grateful for my children who make me laugh deeper, make me cry harder, and make my life immeasurably richer than it ever could have been otherwise.

I am grateful for my huband. I am grateful for his unwavering strength, calmness, and gentle love. I cannot imagine what I would do if I were gone all day, working, and then came home to a wife who just seemed to fall into a puddle of either tears or anger. I cannot imagine myself being so gentle and compassionate in the face of personal weakness. God truly blessed me with Steve. He really did.

I'll check in after I get back and, until then, know that I am thanking all of your for your support and love.

The grass is always greener at the cemetary.

Today was exhausting, without glory or gratification. It was an everything-seems-to-be-going-wrong kind of day. Nothing measurable or tangible. Little things, really.

Regardless, I found myself sitting out on our front lawn, at 5pm, crying. Just crying. Life just felt like too much. My sweet Paxton and Ella were oblivious to my crying as they happily played in the grass. Or so I thought. Ella came up to me and, as I tried quickly to wipe my tears said, "Mommy? Why do you have raindrops on your face?" I didn't answer. Out came more tears. Paxton said, " Oh Mommy, don't cry, we won't run away." Oh, the sweetness and innocence.

Shepherd is at a very difficult age for me right now. An age that I remember strongly disliking with both Paxton and Ella. An age where one must repeat "no" --repeat everything in fact, multiple times. An age where there is a communication breakdown, an utter disregard and misunderstanding of authority. An age where the idea of sharing is as foreign as multiplication or taxes.

So, I just cried.

And then? Then I found myself on a long drive after Steve got home from work. A long, quiet drive. For two hours. I decided that I was hungry. I bought some california rolls and headed to a place where I knew it would be quiet, no one would bother me or ask me questions or directions. A place where no one would speak. The cemetary. It was beautiful. And quiet.

After enjoying my solitude and self-pity it was time to go. I did not realize it was time to go until I had this thought after looking around at all the headstones: "Oh *sigh*, they all have it SO easy."

Yeah, time to go.

I called my mom to get some comic relief and tell her my pitiful thought. Her reply was eloquent, beautiful, understanding,and gentle. It went something like this:

"Oh, Honey! Get the hell out of the cemetary!"

Pool party.

This post is a little overdue. Mother's Day was amazing, complete with lemon curd crepes and fresh strawberries in bed in the morning, Mass and babies baptisms, a lovely afternoon backyard brunch with friends, visits with Grandma Great and Grandma, and a quiet backyard dinner with barbequed lobster, prawns and steamed asaparagus. I am so blessed. My husband is amazing and I know how lucky I am that he really tried so hard to make the day relaxing and special--all for me. Thank you, love. The kids were so good and I really felt just how lucky and blessed we are, that God gave us to each other. It was probably the best Mother's Day yet.

The Mother/Daughter Tea was a hit as well. Steve got home at midnight on Friday, got up early the next morning and helped (okay did it FOR me) to find all my china, servingware, and glassware for the table from our huge storage unit. It was so much fun to go up to the gym and see all of these tables, each carefully decorated with each hostesses personal style. One was Betty Boop themed, another western themed, complete with bandanas for napkins and cowboy boots for teacups, and another was decorated with ALL lace. My mom said that she could have picked mine out without even recognizing my china. I'm a calalilly, tulip, and lots of white sort of girl. Clean, simple, pretty. Or so I think. Everyone was dressed up. At one table, all the ladies and girls had big, fun hats on! I loved that idea. It was so nice to have my mom there, sitting next to me and Miss Ella. Some great friends and their little girls came. There was even entertainment for us. A Barbershop Quartet, clogging 3 and 4 year olds (who were rather scantily clad and overly made-up. Don't get me started), and even drawings and prizes. I had heard about, but never been to one of these "Teas". I will definitely be hosting again next year.

I know I keep saying it, but I am starting to feel a lot more tired. Wah. I know. I'm sorry. The good news is that there are lots of things I can do about it and I have been--including going on longer walks, trying to carve out rest time during the day, and letting myself just relax more when I can. In fact, I have what's sure to be a very restful, prayerful retreat coming up this weekend that I am SO looking forward to. It's about three hours north of here, almost to the Canadian border. The drive alone will be so nice to just meditate and say a few rosaries for specific intentions.

Today we are heading to some friends house for a "pool party". You know, the kind of pool that's about 5 feet in diameter, heavy plastic and has fish stickers on the bottom? It'll be so nice to let the kids splash around and even nice to just let us pregnant mommies rest,  talk and swell up in this 90 degree heat. We will snack on cold, crisp cucumber slices, grapes and sip lemonade. We will slather on sunscreen and discuss luxuries of the past. Belts. Pants with zippers. Red wine. Sleep. Our ankles.