Christmas Cheer

A gift to our most dedicated readers. The usual disclaimer goes here about way too long video length and minimal editing. Just a few moments in our daily life. Merry Christmas!

Peter Max's Perfect Birth

Setting up the family bassinet. Can you catch the dad worship happening here?

On our way out!

Feel the Zeel baby. Flowers cut from home, homemade baby doll from Aunt Boo.

So happy to see his beautiful eyes!






You can read about Elsa's birth here. Or Heidi's birth here.

Both of my first two births were so different. As precious as Heidi's birth was, I knew more than anything (other than wanting a perfect, healthy baby), that I wanted another Elsa birth. I felt so good after Elsa was born and ready to take on anything. It was a challenge going from one to two babies, but whenever I got discouraged while muscling the bucket seat and other baggage through various 100 degree parking lots while trying to keep Heidi from getting run over I would always think: "the C-section felt worse than this," and that thought would make me so thankful that I could move around without pain I would get a whole nother surge of energy...

So as I contemplated moving from 2 to 3 children, the one thing I hoped for (besides the perfect, healthy baby) was another natural, incision free birth. However, in Holland, MI this proved to be easier said than done.

I loved my midwife care at UNM hospital in Albuquerque, NM. I knew they shared my goals and understood my desire to have a natural birth. They valued my desire to have a VBAC and gave me plenty of time to accomplish that goal (30 hours!). I realize now that if I had not been in their care during Elsa's birth, I probably would have been sent to the OR for failure to progress even though my body knew perfectly well what it was doing.

So when I found out shortly after moving to MI that I was pregnant, I began searching for a good hospital that offered midwife care--only to discover that midwives are not allowed to oversee VBACS anywhere within a 60 mile radius of where I live. Great. And on top of that, hardly any Doctors in my area support or oversee VBACS, and only one hospital is even allowed to support them. Hello, smalltown U.S.A. I usually like the fact that this place is so Norman Rockwell, but not when it comes to childbirth.

Thankfully one of my Godsent new friends referred me to her Dr., who is awesome. Not only did he support the VBAC (his own wife had 3), but he promised that he would be the guy on call when I delivered and he wasn't afraid to get Machiavellian when it came to dealing with hospital policies.

Because of said hospital policies, my birth plan was pretty wacky this time around. I had to labor at home as long as possible before checking into the hospital. I couldn't register at the hospital we wanted because they wouldn't take me as a VBAC patient. But if I showed up progressed enough, the hospital would legally have to treat me, thus bypassing their no VBAC policy. Apparently all this is going to change in a few years when the truth about VBAC reaches rural America, but in Peter's birth it was all about strategy.

So I had a few concerns. I was concerned that this birth would be like Elsa's (really, really long and confusing). It was. I was concerned about not having the safe-haven of understanding midwives who believed in my abilities as a human mother to safely give birth. And when my wonderful Dr. told me five days before Peter's birth that my body didn't know what it was doing, my concerns seemed pretty valid. I was concerned that I would show up at a hospital and get rejected as a VBAC patient and wheeled off for another crash C-section--because I hadn't worked with this Dr. before, I wasn't completely there with trusting him yet. These were the thoughts that filled my head in the days before Peter's arrival.

The actual start of labor is pretty hazy in my mind. It was very similar to Elsa's birth except that I had some ideas of what to expect, so didn't get keyed up. I had Braxtons for days so didn't even think about them anymore. It was about midnight on Monday, August 15 that I started wondering if we were getting close. Contractions were fairly regular, about 10 minutes apart, growing in intensity, keeping me from sleeping, but not enough to get out of bed. All night I labored, and by 7 the next morning I thought we should call my mom. Becca was there as my doula, which I have to say was a huge factor in Peter's awesome birth.

Nana arrived around 9 and took Heidi and Elsa to Dutch Village. Yep, Holland. Unfortunately at that time the contractions basically stopped. Great, I sounded the alarm for nothing. I tried to sleep, but couldn't, was able to eat breakfast, and enjoyed hanging out with my sister all day. Because that's basically what we did. I have decided that my labors will always be very weird. All day I couldn't figure out if this was really even it or not. I would have strong contractions, but lots of time would go by in between. Becca and I took lots of walks around my house observing all our beautiful flowers and tomatoes, enjoying the sunshine, we watched movies on netflix, started her wedding registry (even though she wasn't engaged yet), compiled a music labor list for Peter's birth, and read over my previous birth plans, all of which are saved on the computer and are good for a laugh.

I was becoming aware that certain movements were becoming very painful, so whenever something hurt I would just yell and do something else. I think if I was less afraid of pain, maybe my labor would have progressed more quickly.

My favorite example of this was when I decided we better do some prenatal yoga while I was still prenatal. My sister Kendall had given me a prenatal yoga DVD, which I loved, but somehow it angered my children whenever I tried doing it. Well, since I had some help, it seemed like the perfect time to get a pose on. So we turned on the DVD and I sat down on the floor in the crosslegged pose, whatever that's called. It hurt so bad I couldn't even stand back up, just yelled for like 2 minutes and then rolled over laughing.

That's what I loved about Peter's birth. I didn't go all drama about every contraction like I did with Elsa. The fact that I had been through it before made such a huge difference--I was able to laugh through a lot of the pain. And seriously, in hindsight, it doesn't hurt that bad. Not as bad as a C-section.

Around 2:30 my sister called the Dr. who said his wife labored like that for weeks before giving birth. Again, this did not encourage me or get me excited about working with him. But he did say we could come in after 5 p.m. and he would check me before sending me to the hospital. I started getting more uncomfortable, it seemed like it was picking up, but again none of us were really ever sure.

Around 5 my mom came home and I told her I was ready for some drugs. We waited for Oliver to get home from work, grabbed some stuff, and headed for the Dr.'s office. I was really hoping by this point that I had at least reached 5 cm so we would be "progressed enough" to avoid getting sent home or cut open. I was also having much stronger contractions 2-3 minutes apart.

We met Dr. at his office, who checked me and said I was at 8! Awesome. From that moment on, I was so happy to be at 8 the rest of labor flew by. We had to walk from his office to the hospital (they are adjacent). It took awhile because I learned this cool trick of pressing my back into a wall for contractions while standing. We walked into the maternity unity and it was kind of fun to know I was already really far along. Made me feel like I owned that place. I was no longer stressed about how far along I was and how much was left so I really got to enjoy the process. I focused on Peter and prepared to meet my son. By the time I was on the bed I was at 9.5 and within 10 minutes I was pushing. I pushed for about 20 minutes with Becca and Oliver holding me. And then he was out!

That is truly the best feeling in the entire world. I was so thankful to be done and so happy to see him! He was pretty blue and his eyes were very swollen from the long journey--the cord was wrapped twice around his neck so it took a minute to get him going. I got him right away and we thanked God for a healthy baby boy. I was so happy to be holding him finally!

I was more worried with Peter than the girls--he seemed to really hate the stuff they put in his eyes (which were already very swollen) and it seemed to make it worse. For the first few days his eyes were hardly open at all compared to what I remembered with my girls. But he has perked up since then and turned out to be my most smiley baby for sure. He is already laughing.

My family all showed up, my Dad and brother both driving in from Chicago. I only missed Kendall and three more small children! The hospital was quiet with a beautiful view of some cornfields and a farm with Paint ponies running in circles. And for all my complaints about small hospitals, I was equally happy with the care I received here. The nurses were amazing and treated me like a princess. Well worth the bill we just received.

Each birth reminds me how precious life and health are, such wonderful gifts, made even better by sharing them with precious loved ones. So thankful for my parents and my sister, who held my hand all the way through, thankful for Oliver's faithful and constant servanthood and for his wonderful parents who came out to love on us for a week. Mutti's quiet care and faithful help with the girls made our transition back so much more smooth and saved me a lot of tears. Our church friends supported us with meals and day by day things have reached the new normal. Thanks to my few readers left who prayed for us. We felt it.

Back to Heidi

It was a good party.

About Elsa

I am painfully aware of how much Elsa seems to get overlooked on this blog. I hope, so much, that the lack of attention is a positive thing. After watching some old family videos today of how microscopically focused we were on Heidi, I definitely feel better for letting Elsa fall through the proverbial cracks.

The thing is, in real life, Elsa has demanded quite a bit of attention. Most of it involves cleaning of some kind. I feel like I owe everyone I know an apology for talking so much about this one thing that has defined my days over the past year--the diaper watch. It hasn't been pretty. The low point might have been when Oliver took Elsa to watch ballet and somehow I had missed washing out the midsized fecal dreadlock in her hair, noticed by him only when the smell started to waft through the parent viewing area.

This past year has been a crucible for me--I am starting to refer to it as sanctification by crap, literally. My second baby has pushed me further than I was prepared for, and the actual triviality of the trial is what made it even more tragic and lame, and myself even lamer for not keeping it together better. Oh, how I pray it all gets buried in her subconscious.

But thankfully, God doesn't leave us there in the crap. It's been at least a week since that last event. And I am learning to pray through these gross moments and deal with them a little more courageously, and hopefully with the love my Elsa needs.

And each day, as her personality emerges, I celebrate her strengths and gifts. As my mom says, at least it all works right. So it's a gift. She has a deep interest in animals, insects, and babies. Although since she picked up a wasps' nest last week the insect phase might be done....but her little heart is very nurturing. She walks up to stranger's infants and wants to hug them and help with their pacifiers. She has a special baby voice for talking to babies. She uses it for animals too--especially puppies! Her physical skills continue to amaze me: she has nearly gotten pumping a swing down, swims confidently with a noodle (and lots of supervision), and can definitely take her sister down any day.

She is fiercely independent and only wants to cuddle for a minute or two in the morning--unless you are Gramps or Uncle D. She loves to touch, smell, and taste, but hates loud noises. She loves backpacks and camping and carrying large amounts of stuff around. She loves the color blue most of all, especially blue ice cream. And she loves her sister.

I can't wait to see more of who she is and who she will become--so thankful for every day with her. I don't celebrate her enough.

Random Mix

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That means in 11 weeks I will likely be holding my son. Still can't believe it's a boy--even though the "proof shot" from the ultrasound is posted in our kitchen.

I no longer need to remind myself that I am pregnant. The thousand times a day that I bend over to wipe someone, clean something, or pick someone up remind me. Elsa has learned to sit on one side during bedtime reading.

I had so much to say about the first two pregnancies--and it is all still true. The thing that makes Peter's upcoming arrival even more exciting is knowing that the experience will be shared with my first two children who look forward to meeting him so much.

These things are not to be taken for granted. This month we said goodbye to Eric's father, my Uncle Paul. A brain tumor was discovered and within 8 months he was gone. Pain and mercy. In February a friend's sister lost her newborn to a severe brain defect, discovered at the routine 20 week ultrasound. My former pastor lost his son in April. Sixbit just had a birthday and in one week we remember the anniversary of Eric's departure.

I don't mean to throw these things in with pregnancy thoughts and recital pictures--but I can't shake the reality that life is so thin, a blade of grass--so fragile. Yet Eternity is so sure, so solid, so promising--it's about realizing both at once, as much as possible.

Living is definitely superior to blogging. I miss blogging as much as I did before, but wouldn't trade it back--though I do want to keep it up for those we love who are far away. And we do love you.

Spring at Last!!

For those who still check in from time to time--we are still here and so thankful that things are green and warm (er) again. Our yard is exploding with daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, and some unknown blossoming trees, made all the sweeter by the fact that everything was a surprise since we've never been here for a spring. The girls are spending longer and longer stretches of time outside, some days just playing on our deck in the soft sunshine. I've been reading Amy Carmichael's biography (finished after 10 years of starting and restarting--convinced some sort of spiritual warfare kept me away from me so long) and also a fabulous book by Susan Shaeffer McCauley (For the Family's Sake), two great books which are helping with perspective and reminding us to take pleasure in the simple routines of Christian family-ness. Something sacred and eternal is going on, even though it feels far away in the moment.

These kept me up till 1 a.m. all of Holy Week and resulted in a cranky mom. The kids played with them for about 10 minutes. Live and learn.



This child loves her swing. I send them out to try to get something done, but she just stands by the swing and pathetically tries to swing herself, and it's too much torture to watch, so I usually end up pushing her...
And she loves it!
Easter extravagance.
School time.
My dandelion girl--always out picking, examining, running, dancing. We love our field.

Happy dog.

Oh, and we had a perfect mother's day. Probably why I feel rested enough to blog! Beautiful presents and best of all, sweet voices saying "thanks mom!" This is such a precious time.