A Story of Joy

This story is so precious, and Rory and I have been trying to process it all week long. I actually haven't been able to write about much of it at all and feel like I'm still finding the words. Rory, on the other hand, has been writing ever since, not wanting to forget one detail. 

I'm a bit tentative throwing it out there though because there is a funny thing that happens when you share a miracle story. The world wants to try to make sense of it rationally, try to put a medical reason to the wonder. But Rory and I were there. And we know that not one doctor or nurse had any reason why our baby would make such a miraculous full healing just minutes after prayers began being spoken from all over the country.

I was on the bed and unable to see a lot of what was happening. But Rory saw our little, still baby. He saw the doctors faces and heard the phone calls being made for teams to show up stat. He wrote the following and I asked him if I could share it here. I'm sure I'll expand on parts of this at some point, but for now it feels right to be getting this out. 

For months before she was born, Psalm 91 kept coming before me. It started with a sermon at church, then a card I received. My kids came home from the school library with a book that was based on Psalm 91. I came across word art, and many friends even sent portions of it my way before she was born, without knowing its significance. It was uncanny, and I knew this was our baby's Psalm. I read the whole thing through many times and the last time I read it through entirely I stood up, closed my Bible and my water broke. At the time it made me laugh because this Psalm was confirmed so many times as the baby's psalm.  And so, in the midst of the fear surrounding her first hour of life, these were the words I kept hearing in my heart:

I will be with her in trouble,
I will deliver her and honor her,
With long life I will satisfy her
and show her my salvation.
PSALM 91

Meet Harriet Joy Groves. Her first act of life was a miracle by God.

It was 7:22 AM, one hour after her birth when the decision was made to emergency transfer Harriet to a neonatal intensive care unit in Minneapolis. She was born unable to breath on her own, but we didn't know that right away. Seconds after being born, nurses whisked her away from her mother's arms. A brief whimper was all we heard at birth, but no more crying. While Becca was being tended by one doctor, another doctor began checking Harriet's vitals, suctioning fluids, and listening to her lungs. The doctor could hear fluid, most likely meconium ingested during a difficult 54-hour labor. Her hands and feet were turning blue. Sensors on her foot registered in the low 30's. I asked what that number was. Blood-oxygen level. I asked what is it supposed to be. Above 90. She was hooked up to oxygen and the nurses turned the dial to 30%. Then 40%. Then 100%.

There are many moments of brief panic during pregnancy, labor and delivery. Becca and I both thought this was procedural, that within a few minutes Harriet would be breathing normally and back in her mother's arms. But as I watched fear grip the nurses, I felt the pit in my stomach grow. God, where are you?

Minutes away from birth she had a CPAP mask covering her mouth and nose, IV needles in her scalp, and a lead plate under her body as the lab techs set up a chest x-ray.

I remember reaching out holding her tiny hand and introducing myself: "Harriet. This is your daddy. I love you. I don't know what else to do right now, so I'm just going to hold your hand."

***

Throughout this pregnancy we made plans for this child's birth. Being our third, we knew enough that nothing goes according to plan when it comes to babies. But still, we did our best to prayerfully follow God's leading. And we felt peace about it.

The first detour was Harriet being born 10 days late. In those last weeks Becca would talk about how she started writing the birth story in her head, a great blog post in the making: "So there I was in Econofoods buying the ingredients for peanut butter pie when my water broke..." But each time she would hear God respond: "Let Me write this story."

So it was with great anticipation that we waited for this story to play out. But many hours after her water breaking, and only irregular contractions, we were forced to induce. This was a difficult, doubting hour, dashing months of repeated confirmations. How is this a better story, God?

Each stage, though, kept getting worse. The late pregnancy and contractions were followed by a mal-positioned baby causing excruciating pitocin-induced back labor for 6 hours while Becca tried various positions to turn the baby without success. Finally we ordered the epidural but still the baby did not come for 11 more hours. After losing count of the number of times Becca lost the contents of her stomach, it was finally time to push. The delivering doctor was called in and asked me how long Becca pushed with our last child. "Not long at all. Two pushes." Everyone was in agreement. Third child, long labor, this was going to be over soon. Which was good because Becca was utterly exhausted. I don't think I've ever seen her more depleted, physically and emotionally. An hour later, the nurses stopped counting off the contractions and the doctor couldn't stop yawning. Progress had been made, but barely (though we didn't let Becca know). It had been made clear to us that a c-section was a possibility because of the baby's position. Now that seemed almost inevitable.

But in the final 15 minutes Becca found her strength and rallied. And to everyone's surprise the baby was born in the ideal position.

"Cut the cord daddy!" At long last, Harriet had arrived.

***

One-half hour after birth the doctors tried to wean Harriet off her supplemental oxygen. Her color was much better but they were unable to keep her stable with less than 40% oxygen. The X-Ray had come back showing possible pneumonia in one lung. It was when Harriet started shallow breathing, unable to even keep up with forced oxygen that the head doctor made the call to emergency transfer Harriet to a NICU. Things were deteriorating rapidly and we were running out of options.

Through tears Becca asked me to call Ali, her close friend from town to come be with her so I could travel to Minneapolis to be with Harriet. I stepped into the hallway and called Ali. Then I called our parents. We hadn't announced Harriet's birth yet to anyone. If I concentrated I could force the words out, but if I thought about it I was too choked up to talk. Born 6:22, girl. Trouble breathing, transferring to NICU in Minneapolis. Please pray. I remember asking Becca's mom to pray with our kids who were staying with her. I remember understanding how pure and powerful are prayers of children. How God hears and is moved by them.

I called my pastor who spread the word to staff and church. All we had left to us now was prayer. We felt so helpless. Becca later told me her frustrated prayers while pushing, "You said, 'you began this good work in me.' You have to complete it.  You said, 'when I'm weak, you are strong. I have nothing left. You have to do this."

I returned to the room to pack and get ready to drive to meet Harriet at the NICU. Harriet was still rapid-breathing, the doctor listening to her lungs. She explained that the transfer team would bring their own equipment to stabilize her before transferring. So they would need to remove the IV's and monitoring equipment before replacing with their own. As the nurse was preparing Harriet for the transfer she briefly removed the CPAP mask.

As she went to reaffix the mask the doctor stopped her. "Wait." We all watched the oximeter. It stayed above 90. The doctor listened to her lungs. "Let's bring her to Becca". The nurses looked concerned but promptly complied.

They placed Harriet in Becca's arms. All our eyes were locked on to the oximeter. Could this be happening? It started rising. 95...96...97...

"Let's try to feed her." The nurses positioned baby and Becca and she immediately latched on and started nursing. Then she switched sides and kept nursing.

Ali arrived during this scene. I don't know what I said to her because there wasn't any explanation. Only minutes had passed since Harriet was rapidly deteriorating. The doctor explained that Harriet might be able to keep this up for 15 minutes, but then she would tire and need to go back on oxygen. We all kept watching the monitors and heard a helicopter in the distance getting louder.

***

The transfer team arrived in the room and waited for Harriet to finish nursing before taking their turn to check vitals. I remember thinking how serious these doctors and nurses looked. Their jump suits alone made their arrival feel all the more overwhelming.

I told Becca the lead doctor looked like the Commander in Chief of doctors. They connected monitoring equipment to Harriet and watched. "Stats are perfect." She listened to Harriet's chest. "Lungs are clear." The question was raised if she even needs to be transferred. One of the nurses smiled at me and whispered, "she's not going to transfer." After a brief consultation with the hospital doctors, they carried Harriet back to Becca's arms, packed up their things, and left.

Then God spoke. This is My story.

Within the span of 10 minutes we went from needing an emergency transfer by helicopter to save Harriet's life to it becoming a precautionary measure to her not needing to be transferred at all. And the recovery was instantaneous. She didn't get worse, worse, worse, then better, better, better. She got worse, worse, worse, then healed completely. Within an hour we were in the post-partum room celebrating with family.

The acting pediatrician later said he’s never heard of a NICU transfer team leaving without the baby.

Many of the nurses and some of the doctors rotated off-shift during the course of events and didn't know how the story ended. The next day the delivering doctor came by the hospital to check on us. She noted that mucus that had been coughed up the previous day was the only reason she could think of for the sudden turnaround with Harriet. Except the mucus wasn't coughed up until several hours after she started breathing normally, while in our recovery room. Between the time doctors heard fluid in her lungs and the "lungs are clear" diagnosis was given, Harriet never coughed or cried.

When the family left and Becca and I were once again alone together, we looked at each other and wept. We knew what we had seen. We knew what we couldn't explain. We knew God had gotten us to the hospital and had been writing this story all along. We would have never imagined this would be her story. No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.

Before leaving for the day the hospital doctor stopped by. She was more involved with Harriet's resuscitation than anyone else. "Sometimes these things happen," is all she would offer about the abrupt recovery we experienced that day.

Yes, we thought, we call those things miracles.

Lord, you have been our dwelling place
throughout all generations.
Before the mountains were born
or you brought forth the earth and the world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
PSALM 90:1-2

week one with Harriet Joy

As I type this I am very aware that one week ago tonight I was in the throws of labor, and at this moment was just getting my epidural. I had pitocin for six hours before I finally called mercy (which translated to: epidural). And even with the epidural, labor still continued for eleven more hours before I was ready to push. I'm exhausted just thinking about it and I'm so glad to be heading to bed in a few minutes.

Hattie will be one week old tomorrow morning at 6:22. After the initial scare of her first few hours of life, everything has greatly calmed down. We had a lovely stay at the hospital. I love room service and I loved my nurses that helped with everything. We came home on Friday and the kids came back on Saturday. I asked my mom to come out on Friday "for just an hour" and then didn't let her leave until the sun went down, telling her to come back the next day with her suitcase. I said I'd like her to stay "for just a night or two..." and I still haven't let her go home. She is the secret sauce to keeping everything running around here...dishes, Ivar and Elsie emotions, holding Hattie so I can shower, and laundry. There is so much laundry with a baby!

I think the most amazing thing is the passage of time during these first weeks. I feed Hattie every two or three hours. And it takes a while because we're both still learning how to do this together. And then between feedings she gets her diaper changed, often an outfit change if she spits up and it all just takes a lot of time. In between feedings I have to eat, or lay down or shower, or pay special attention to big siblings and just like that, it's time to nurse again. Our days go slowly and calmly and then all of the sudden it is nighttime again. My friend Shannon calls these weeks "soft focus"...sort of a blur of naps, nursing, sleepiness and slowly adjusting to the new normal.

And it is good. So good. I am so grateful to have Hattie here and healthy. I am grateful for her big brother and sister who adore her. I am grateful for my mom who came to mother me while I learn to be a mother of three. And most of all I am so grateful for Rory who I grew deeper in love with through this whole ordeal. He was so steady through all the twists and turns of Hattie's birth, saw the fear in the doctor's eyes, the exhaustion in my own eyes, rallied prayer warriors when we needed God to intervene and took great care of me all the while. I am so grateful and my heart is overflowing.

Introducing Harriet Joy Lovie Treetop Groves

It is with gratitude overflowing that we introduce Harriet Joy Groves. She was born on October 7th at 6:22 in the morning weighing 9 pounds 4 ounces. Her labor was hard and long but she is here! She was born with fluid in her lungs and they even sent a helicopter from the Minneapolis Children's NICU to take her into their care, but minutes before they were to take her away she miraculously began breathing on her own...even nursing! And when she was checked again they reported there was no fluid and the helicopter team left, leaving Hattie with us. (One day I'll write out the unabridged version of this most amazing start to her first hour out of the womb.)

She is a miracle baby and we are so, so grateful. The doctors instructed us to have no visitors for the first few weeks until her immune system improves. So in the meantime, we are hibernating and getting to know this newest, sweet member of our family of five. 

The kids were a bit disappointed their names weren't picked. Rory and I named her Harriet (Hattie) Joy, but Ivar was sure Lovie would make a nice middle name (It would have!) And Elsie is sure Treetop would have been a better pick (Not quite!). But we'll keep them in the mix for as long as everyone needs to feel ownership for our sweet baby girl.

wiping and waiting

My friend Tiffany has this hilarious bit where she talks about when she finally figured out her true call in life as a mom. She says that when she reduces everything down the her actual work as a mother, it all comes down to one task. Wiping. She wipes noses, wipes up spills, wipes off counter tops, wipes butts, wipes crayon off the wall, wipes toothpaste off the bathroom sink, and wipes tears. She calls herself a professional wiper.

Oh that makes me laugh so hard. And I think of her words often, like when I'm down on the floor trying to pry off dried banana under the kitchen table. Cement could be made from dried banana.

This week I've been thinking a lot about waiting as I am now officially 41 weeks pregnant. I'm waiting for a baby to come, but there are so many other ways mothers wait.  I can think of a few friends who are waiting for a good guy to marry so that they can have kids of their own. I have friends who are waiting and wanting desperately to get pregnant. I know a woman at church who is waiting and praying for her wayward son to turn his life around. I've watched mom's cling to the picture of their child, living in an orphanage in another country, waiting for paper work to be sorted out so they can bring their baby home. Some mom's have to send their kids off to war and wait for their return. I've even thought of the grandma's at the nursing home I worked at, and how they would wait and anticipate a visit from their adult children. Or how one of my dear friends is waiting with full expectation to get to hold her babies in heaven that she carried, but never got to raise.

Few things are as monotonous as wiping. Few things are as taxing as waiting. And yet the wiping and waiting of motherhood lead directly to the complete joy of motherhood. It's all a part of the same thing. And I can think of no greater calling.

cupcakes, combines and so much crying

I woke up this morning, once again surprised that the baby is still on the inside. We are three days past the due date now. I lay there and thought about the open day ahead of us and could hear the kids talking in their room. When I go into labor they will go with my folks for two nights and then to Rory's folks for two nights. And suddenly I just wanted to shower them with love and time and tenderness, knowing that our daily routine is going to look very different, very soon.

They came down and we snuggled. Rory built the first fire of the season in our stove and we sat by it. We had bagels and cream cheese and then put warm clothes on for the day.

And then I told them our plan.

Today I was going to take them to the river to build sand castles. We have a beautiful arboretum by us with trails and it leads to a sandy bank that we love to frequent. They loved that idea. And then I told them we'd go and get cupcakes to eat as a treat when watching the combine working in our field. I couldn't think of a more perfect morning and was personally excited for a carrot cake cupcake.

We loaded the car and when Ivar got into his carseat his pants slid down a bit. He got out and tried to pull them up, but then back in the seat they had slid down a bit again. And he absolutely fell apart. I tried to help but he screamed with so much frustration. I told him I'd go find other pants.

I was digging in the dryer when he came in the house, sobbing and angry. He kicked off his crocs and took off his pants. I told him he needed him to go upstairs to find different pants, as I had already gone up and down the stairs four times this morning and was tuckered. Instead he rolled on the ground and I sat on the couch watching. Elsie was still in the car, buckled in and eating gold fishes so I knew she was okay.

I sat there and recognized that I had time to deal with this. All we have is time. So I asked him what he wanted to do with his day. He told me he didn't want to do any of my ideas. He said he wanted to stay home and read books.

Which sounded so awesome in my tuckered state, I could hardly handle it.

I went out to get Elsie who was delighted to tell me that both kittens had jumped in the car through my open door and had been drinking from my water cup. I told her the new plan and then she fell to pieces. Obviously. I mean, the word cupcake had already been spoken. No doubt she was angry with the changes.

So I unbuckled her and she cried and I told her she could come and read books with us for just four books, and then we'd go find an adventure again. It took her a long time to come into the house.

Which was good because it was in that time that Ivar cried into my arm while sitting next to me on the couch. And then he said the thing that finally explained everything. He choked out, "What is going to happen when the baby is crying and I am crying too?!!" He was sobbing at this point.

Our whole family is feeling so much right now. Change is just around the corner (or so we've thought for about a week now...) and Ivar sort of summed up all the questions of not really knowing what it's going to look or feel like. I showed him how I had one arm around him in that very moment, but that I had another arm that can hold the baby. And I told him this is why God gives kids a mom and a dad, because I will be able to snuggle with him when Dad helps the baby. And I told him sometimes he or the baby will have to wait a minute until I can get to them. But I will always get to them.

Elsie came in the house and we talked about it all over again with her. And she said confidently, "I will hug the baby when you are crying, Ivar."

We read four books, all snuggled together. And then we made three glasses of chocolate milk and drank those at the kitchen table. And then I asked them what they wanted to do next and they both knew: "Go to Target to buy Elsie her high heels!"

Apparently they had discussed this plan last night after we tucked them in. Elsie had birthday money to spend and has been talking about getting cinderella high heels for weeks. I just hadn't been informed of their plan when I made my own this morning.

So that's what we did. On a glorious, stunning, fall day in Minnesota, we went to Target for two hours. And found the high heels. And then found all sorts of other things we never knew we needed. Mostly I kept running into friends and was enjoying the fellowship that can be found in random Target aisles all throughout the store.

We came home and ate cheesy chips for lunch (microwave nachos!) and now they're up for quiet play time.

There are so many emotions under this roof right now. And in the end, today ended up playing out exactly how it needed to because we had the time to talk about some big feelings that had been hiding under the surface. It felt good to all cry a bit, to feel the feelings and talk about them. And isn't this the whole point of motherhood? Today I was grateful for this waiting time and the added time to get to mother and reassure and cuddle with my older two.

Though I still am craving that carrot cake cupcake...

just twiddling our thumbs

So here we are! I really thought that whole lunar eclipse thing might have started things up, but I woke up this morning startled to be getting the kids ready for preschool. But they're off now, and the house is quiet and I can handle this. Just don't come and make a mess in my kitchen. Then I might lose my mind.

These hilarious pictures were included with the hundreds from Marlene and Madison's 50th Anniversary Party. They made me laugh so hard. I promise to show the lovely pictures too...but until then, these are sort of my favorites. You know how I love a good family blooper.

Until tomorrow...

family of four

We just got a CD of pictures from Marlene and Madison's 50th wedding anniversary party. I have to go through them first, but I can't wait to share them! It was such a fun night. This picture above is from that evening and I love this little capture of our family, my belly, and this little slice in time before we add another. 

My technical due date has always been the 27th. But when the ultrasound tech said the 23rd, I grabbed hold of that date because it was our anniversary and I liked the sound of that...a baby on our 10-year. I also liked it because it was sooner, and every pregnant woman ever will pick the sooner due date versus the later. But that 27th date was the more accurate, the one my midwives have stuck to, and so the 27th it is. I'm not even overdue yet. I could easily still be pregnant on Monday. 

I told Rory I am fine waiting. I actually am really enjoying these days. The kids and I are having some sweet time together and I'm trying to love on them as much as possible. I'm fine waiting. It's the doing that's bothering me. I wish I didn't have to do anything! Like walk up the stairs to help the kids work through a sharing issue. Or unload the dishwasher. Or make any meals for anyone. 

But it turns out, that's my gig, and a girl can't just sit around and blog all day (though you'll notice I've been quite wordy lately! I have a feeling that will come to a screeching halt here when there is a baby in my hands instead of a laptop.)

Last weekend I told Rory, "If this baby is still inside of me next Saturday, let's take the family to the Renaissance Festival. It's supposed to be a gorgeous day." Rory looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "Gross. I cannot think of a more unsanitary place for you to be if your water were to break." And that's said by a guy who loves the Renaissance Festival, used to work there, had his bachelor party there and has been telling Ivar all about knights and armor and castles all summer getting him ready for their father-son outing. But I am definitely not invited. We'll see what we do with ourselves instead. This morning Rory asked what my plan was for today and I said, "I'm going to go look for gourds and little pumpkins to decorate our book shelves." Then I heard myself and confessed, "Clearly I'm at the stage where I am just making up things to do."

So we'll keep making them up. Always aware that something very painful is just around the corner, followed by welcoming the newest member of our little family.

Until then, you can read Ivar's birth story here and Elsie's birth story here. (I just read through these myself and realized Elsie came 3 days after her due date! I have been telling everyone she came one day early. Good thing I wrote out their birth stories!)

contentment

If I could go back ten years and talk to myself I would say, "just walk down that aisle. You are making the best decision of your life." Because all day long today I've been struck with one thought, over and over: I am so content. I think sometimes I overthink our life, but today I got a birds eye view, sort of taking a step back and looking at my life right now. And it looked pretty great.

Our day today was pretty lay low. I brought the kids to the cupcake shop where we bought cupcakes to celebrate Rory and my 10th anniversary, as well as Rainbow Bear's birthday. I didn't know it was Rainbow Bear's birthday until I woke up this morning, but Ivar knew, and as a result, Rainbow Bear got his own three dollar cupcake too.

We came home and I made ham sandwiches and we ate our cupcakes for dessert. The kids played on couch cushions most of the afternoon and I wondered where I thought I'd be in ten years, back when we got married. And did I know I would love my family this much?

In the afternoon our neighbor girls came over to watch the kids and Rory took me shopping to look at Pioneer Woman's dishes. We got a few things, but I was most excited about the pastry cutter that I needed to make pie dough for the apple pie I want to make tomorrow.

And then we went out for Thai. And when I ordered my pad pak the waitress whispered excitedly, "and do you want it super spicy?!!" It made me laugh, and I told her no, we weren't there to induce labor. We were celebrating ten years of marriage.

Our conversation was fun and excited, our gifts were each handmade and I felt so peaceful and comfortable in my own skin. That is the gift I didn't see coming...contentment and comfort. I feel them so strongly, just before this sweet bundle is about to join the mix. I can't wait.

It dawned on me that in another ten years, I will have a 14, 13 and 10 year old. And maybe more. And the only difference is that I will have grown in love with them for another ten years. And ten years after that I'll love them even more and more and more. Isn't that a crazy thought?!! That these kids, God willing, aren't going anywhere. Rory and I just get to love and enjoy them in every single season. And there are no two people on planet earth who love them more than we do. It's the shared joy of a mother and father. A true gift to our marriage. And the best thing we can do for our kids is to continue to love and serve each other first. We made the right decision ten years ago. And it's only going to get better.

Married 10 years ago today: 10 bits of wisdom learned along the way

It was my sister who pointed out that I don't actually want to have this baby on our ten year anniversary...because throwing a kid's birthday party is not all that compatible with a romantic night out with Rory. So much wisdom from that big sister of mine! Still no signs of labor. Tonight we're off to Walmart to check out Pioneer Woman's dishes and then to our favorite Thai restaurant. This picture was taken last night, and I think I can see some tired in my eyes... :)

***

This is a big one! A huge one! And one that we've worked hard for. Ten Years! We did the most amount of work on our relationship in this last year, putting in lots of time in marriage counseling right around our 9th anniversary. And I can say it was worth every minute. Because in some crazy twist I feel like we've had the best year of marriage this year too. We came out the other side so much stronger and unified. It feels great.

I asked Rory to collaborate with me on this post, mostly out of my own curiosity as to how he'd respond. I told him I wanted to make a top ten list of things we wish we would have done differently, or things we are so glad played out like they did. Sort of our own ten bits of wisdom we'd pass along to another young couple living out their first decade together. We collaborated through emails, so the the voice might change from sentence to sentence, but we've both given it the final thumbs up. Here's our list, in no particular order, except this the order we thought of these things...

**We both wish we would have started having kids earlier.  We were very strategic and well thought-out with our family plans. We actually called it "the 5-year plan" and felt like it would be wise to get our finances and work ambitions up and running before we started a family. We paid down debt, got to know each other, worked towards a stable marriage, I worked full time and we saved every dime of my earnings practicing how to live on one income. We traveled and lived all over the country. I got to pursue camp ministry. And that was great. But in the end, we both wish we had started having kids sooner. The day after Ivar was born Rory said to me, "why did we wait so long?!!" And we've felt that way ever since. Kids are a lot of work, but they're way more reward than you could ever put into words.

**We have lived on a budget our entire marriage and it has saved us many a financial fight. Rory's work brings in a greatly fluctuating income, depending on various contracts. And because we both value my time as a stay-at-home-mom, and Rory's income in unpredictable, we live on a frugal budget. This can be hard as there are times when I know we're making more and it feels like we can relax a bit. But Rory is so strict about this budget...he'll put us on a spending freeze ten days before the month is out if he thinks we're running low. It's a great way to eat out of the pantry and freezer, and a great way to continue to live within our means. Sometimes I rebel against the budget because boundaries are annoying, but over and over again I would never trade the security, unity and peace I feel because I know our finances are all in order. On the whole, we don't fight about money. We've had seasons of much and seasons of little but the budget keeps us from fighting about it. We fight more with the budget but usually not each other. (Dave Ramsey's course is awesome, if you ever get the chance to take it. It was foundational in teaching us how to even begin talking about money.)

**We are really glad we moved out of state for a while. We lived in Montana for six months and then on to Nebraska for almost two years. Nebraska was especially good for us...we knew no one and our memories from that season of life are so sweet. Life was simple. It really was just the two of us looking for adventures together, building and creating (we were so creative then!) in our apartment. We had no obligations to anything because we didn't know anyone. We knew we wouldn't live away from family forever, but for the sake of building up our union of two, this was a great move. The moment we got pregnant with Ivar our plan was to get back to the land of grandmas and grandpas, aunts, uncles, and cousins. And we're so glad we did...especially as we strive to raise our kids in the faith.

**We wish we had more hobbies together. In reality, we probably spend way more time together than the average couple. I'm a stay-at-home mom and Rory is a work-from-home business owner. We are together all the time. And I love it. But we don't have many shared fun activities in how we spend our time. We aren't into sports teams, I sort of golf, but I don't like to garden or build things. I do like to document our life and Rory makes our life awesome to document. But we probably should look into a bowling league or origami class.

**Last April we got rid of the tv when we noticed how adversely it was affecting our kids behavior (and our own) and we are so glad that we did. We both read much more now. The temper of our house is way more calm and creative. We often have multiple fun projects going and our kid's ability to play together has increased by hours. HOURS, people! On Friday nights we pop popcorn, hang a big sheet in our living room for Family Movie Night (with the projector) and the kids pick a movie and then Rory and I watch one together after they go to bed. Our kids don't beg us to watch another episode of Bob the Builder all day long because they know we watch TV once a week, together as a family. It has become an awesome weekly ritual, and I will not plan outings on Friday nights anymore because it is such quality family together time.

**Rory mentioned this one..he said he's so glad he took risks early in our marriage, like starting a new business. When we were dating he quit his job to break out onto his own full time. Our first year of marriage was the beginning of his company and gradually it was able to support us. It was nice that he had the opportunity to fail a few times before getting these ventures on their feet before we had kids. We now recognize that having kids really does lessen your ability to "risk it all" because you are providing for a family. But now it is his computer-based business that is allowing us to live on this farm, allowing Rory to work from the country.

**We have tithed faithfully and God is faithful. I've never known how to write about this one before because it is a touchy topic to talk about. But I want to say that we have tithed (and then some) for our entire marriage. And there is something about tithing faithfully that is directly tied to God's provision for your life. I've heard the cliche that you cannot out give God, and I am here to say it is completely true. Again, you never get to talk about this stuff aloud, but I have first hand stories of God's faithfulness in providing for our family that still leave me in awe and wonder. If you don't tithe 10% of your income to the church you attend, you need to give it a try. This is the only topic in the Bible where we are invited to "test God." (Malachi 3:10) Tithe with a cheerful heart and just see what happens.

**This is one we're still trying to work on, but we regret not getting a weekly or even twice monthly standing sitter for just the two of us. Most of our sitter requests are for times when we meet with our small group or are taking a class or are invited to dinner with friends. But we rarely get a sitter for just the two of us to go out alone. And that's a shame. The trouble is that sitters and food and date nights are expensive, but I think it would add a lot to our relationship.

**We have figured out how the other refuels. Rory needs unstructured, unplanned, unscheduled down time. A lot of it. And I need people, spontaneity, travel and adventure. The difference here just requires a whole lot of communication and compromise. I have learned to plan my adventures far enough in advance that Rory is fully on board when the time comes. And he has learned that on a given night, there are times when it is just worth it to get me out of the house and making a memory. It takes intention and it takes compassion for how the other is wired.  And it is so, so worth it.

A final thought...

**We are so glad we chose each other. I was so worked up our entire engagement, wondering if I was making the right decision. Rory and I were so opposite then. (Rory doesn't think we were all that opposite though...) I knew I loved him, I knew I wanted to be with him forever, but I just could not figure out how we would work into each others lives. On paper were were opposite in nearly every way. I put him through the ringer while we dated. A few nights ago he told me that even if I had called everything off he would have still waited for me. And man, I came close! But I cared so much for him from the start. We were such good friends. I saw so much in him that I admired and I loved who I was when we were together. I felt like a part of my personality clicked into place when we were together and I liked that girl. And now a decade later, I can see all the ways that we have become one, and all the ways that we compliment each other, and all of the ways that we strengthen each other's weaknesses. Our life together is definitely not perfect and sometimes we drive each other up the wall, but we both can clearly see that our life together is good for us, growing for us, and worth the work. We are better people together than we could have ever been apart.

Here's to the next ten ahead!

(Click here for a fun picture post of our first nine years together...)

peanut butter pie

(First off, just want to let you know I made it to Maddie's bridal shower! And it was wonderful and beautiful and I was so happy to be there! Secondly, I went to Aldi this morning during preschool, and bought food for weeks and weeks. I was loading my car when a really kind woman came and said she'd return my cart for me (handing me a quarter) and said, "you just look so miserable." Ha! I was so grateful that she would return my cart, felt so worn out, and laughed at her comment and said, "thank you." So that's the baby update. No news yet, though there are a few signs that make me think the whole shebang may be beginning...Actually, I just got up from a great night's sleep with no signs of labor. Happy Tuesday everyone!)

***

My parents came to our house on their way to my Aunt Annie's church for her annual Pie Social. It's a fundraiser and Aunt Annie will bake eight or nine pies each year, all different varieties.

I feel very strongly that the world needs more Pie Socials. Anyone with me? I think I'd like to host a November gathering where the ticket to enter is a homemade pie. If I was invited to something like that I wouldn't miss it for the world!

Aunt Annie makes all sorts of pies: fruit, cream, and even a peanut butter pie.

I remember her telling me about the Peanut Butter Pie last year, and so this year as my folks left, I suddenly had a real hankerin' for a peanut butter pie. I googled and found this recipe and used a real pie crust I had in the freezer and added cool whip to the top and a little chocolate drizzle. And like all things peanut butter and chocolate, this pie did not disappoint.

It was also so rich and dense that a little goes a long, long way. I actually now have hopes to perfect this pie (or just ask Aunt Annie for her recipe!) This one was pretty dense and very, very full of peanut butter. I can't complain, my family loved it. But I'd like to attempt a lighter pie the next time around. Anybody have a peanut butter pie recipe you swear by? Let me know!

you have a nice little ministry

I have a dear friend from childhood, Julie, who used to babysit me when I was a baby. Our families were good friends through church and she was always one of my biggest cheerleaders. She has kept close tabs on me over the years and then when she had a baby girl asked me and my sister if we would be her daughter's baptismal sponsors. She named her baby girl Bailey Rebecca and I was so honored and touched. 

Well, Bailey Rebecca is now in high school and that blows my mind. Time goes so fast!

Julie and I were emailing back and forth a lot last week talking about labor and delivery, prayers and the power we have in choosing words of fear or faith. At the very end of one of her emails she wrote that she and Bailey read my blog and that a few of Bailey's friends read it too. (Hello, ladies!) Julie wrote, "You have a nice little ministry just being you."

And that line stopped me in my tracks.

Those words meant so much to me. They're such a good reminder of our calling to simply be who God made us to be. Especially in a day when it seems everyone has a brand and a platform, these words were so simple and pithy and say so, so much. I was touched by this thought and sat there wishing every girl I know could hear and believe these words too. They're the words God would want us to hear and  believe. But the world is loud, shouting its values of popularity and prestige. It's hard to remember this simple calling to shine your light right where you are. 

So this is my motto lately. I told Julie I was going to make her words into art, and this was my first attempt. I want these words around to remind me of the importance of being present and purposeful in my every day, to see my family, friends, community and daily life as my very own, very personal nice, little ministry.

39 weeks

Oh we're getting close, folks. At my midwife appointment on Tuesday they told me I was measuring 40 weeks. According to the ultrasound I had at 14 weeks, my due date is September 23rd (this Wednesday). And according to the calendar tracking from the very beginning, my due date is September 27th (a week from Sunday). It means I've been very confused as to what week I'm on throughout most of my pregnancy. But it also means that the likelihood that I'll have a baby in the next week or two, is very, very good.

Ivar was born one day before his due date and Elsie came on her due date. If I were to bet, I'd guess I'll have this baby late next week. But isn't it funny how it doesn't really matter what I bet?!! This baby will come when it will come. And I am so, so excited for it to come!

This weekend we will try to lay low as much as possible. We've got cousin Svea's 5th birthday party, seemingly the most highly anticipated event of the year for my children. We've got Family Movie Night tonight, and we will watch a kids movie altogether and then later, a mom and dad movie. Last week Rory and I watched She's Having a Baby, which I had never seen before and thought was very sweet. This week I'm hoping for Nine Months (which I've never seen) or Father of the Bride Two (which I have seen).

My niece Maddie's bridal shower is on Monday night and I just have to get to that. I want to be there so badly. And I sort of feel like my body won't relax enough to have this baby until I have been to that shower and back. I hope I'm not jinxing the whole thing by saying that. But even with the other two, I remember actually giving my body permission to go into labor. Finishing the thank you notes and knowing there wasn't much more I could do to prepare I said, "now would be fine." And a day later my contractions started with Ivar...

The best news is that I finally kicked my cold and am feeling 100% healthy. I had a few issues there for a while, but I'm feeling strong again and so, so grateful to be in this healthy and empowered place. I've got people praying for me all over the country, and that is such a good feeling.

I'll keep you posted if anything changes. Until then, know I am slowly working my way through the most divine tub of Ben and Jerry's The Tonight Dough. Oh my word, it is my dream come true in ice creams, thankfully only discovered this week.

And...I had Rory take the picture above of me this morning since I don't really have any of me at nine months with this baby. I don't have many outfit choices anymore, and most don't really show my belly very well. After I put on the dress I decided to do my hair. And then makeup. I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go. Which actually is totally fine by me. Happy Friday everyone! Have a great weekend.

Pioneer Woman's new kitchen line

I have followed Ree Drummond's blog for a long time. I'm always inspired by her. I like her television show (one weekend this winter I watched like 12 episodes in a row with my niece Josie. Remember that, Josie?!!) I like her writing style, I like her photographs. I like her cookbooks and everything I've ever made from them. (Her lasagna cannot be beat.)

This week she launched a line of dishware at Walmart, and I want every single item. (Except the basset hound cookie jar. No offense to that dog, I'm just not a dog girl...) But other than that, I can't get enough. When I registered for dishes, more than ten years ago, I chose all bright colored accent pieces (from The Bibelot) to go with my white plates. I still adore them. But I could definitely add to the collection. I'd take one of every tea cup and cereal bowl and ramekin above. And that pretty pitcher and measuring bowl.

So I told Rory his gift giving will be simple for me this year. Just head to the kitchen section at Walmart. I recognize I sound like a commercial right now...so I should mention I am in no way being asked or compensated for blogging about this. I just saw these pictures on her blog and I cannot stop thinking about how badly I want to get to Walmart now...

a kiddie parade

Out town had its big four-day celebration this weekend. It's sort of a mix of cowboys, guns, bank robbers and good immigrant pioneers who defend their town. We participated in Townie Night, a discounted night for all the locals and the Kiddie Parade and went to the big parade. I was looking for cowboy and cowgirl outfits for the kids and asked Elsie to try on a cowgirl hat. She looked at me like I was an idiot and told me with a scowl, "I'm going to be a kitty!" You know, because it was a kiddie parade. So I had one cowboy and one kitty.

She insisted on having socks on her hands like little paws and was very, very pleased.

Ivar got to wear part of a costume that my Grandma Harrington made for my dad, when he was a little boy. He loved being a "roadie cowboy" (his version of a rodeo cowboy) and practicing his lasso. At one point during the kiddie parade he lasso'd his foot and this cracked him up for a good half a block.

Elsie pushed around her pink stroller with her pink kitty, wearing her pink kitty skirt and waved at the very few spectators that came to watch. She was the happiest kitty in the kiddie parade.

extravagant and wasteful

I signed the kids up for preschool two mornings a week. We had our very first day on Monday and it was so fun. The kids were so excited and I love, love, love that they are in the same class. Dropping them off was more adorable than sad...they were side by side playing in the sand box and both stood to wave goodbye to me, beaming and proud to be there.

I love them so much.

Then I looked at the clock and tried to figure out the very best way to use the two hours I had before me. Time like this is so, so rare for me. Rory had hinted that I go grocery shopping as we are out of all staples in the house, but I didn't want to waste my two hours of downtime at Cub. Truth-be-told, I'm not sure how many of these personal hours I am going to have before a little baby joins the mix. This was my time and I felt very protective.

I drove to Caribou and I had my laptop along, but then realized I had forgotten my mouse and what I wanted to work on was a lot photoshop stuff...and not having a mouse would be really annoying. So I drove home and looked around, trying to decide what I could do.

I knew I should accomplish something. But I also knew I should rest. But I knew there really were things I could tackle while alone in the house. But I also knew the day was glorious and sitting in a camping chair outside would be perfectly fine too.

Sara has a new song on her new album that talks about time, and how we use it. How we are called to rest, called to play, called to relax. The song is an invitation to join her on an adventure and she says, "It will be extravagant and wasteful." Those words hit me so hard the first time I heard the song. Because that is how it feels when we're really resting. Extravagant. And wasteful. But we're still called to it. We're still commanded by God to be still, and to set aside one out of the seven days he has given to us to be restored and renewed.

I wish I could say that I poured myself an ice water and went outside. Instead a payed a visa bill, sorted a pile of papers and edited a few pictures. And all the while I wondered why I couldn't rest. And it made me think to write this blog post.

Sometimes productivity does feel restorative. But I want the lack of productivity to feel that way too. And I certainly don't want lack of productivity to feel condemning.  Because it is okay just to be.

I have another chance this week. Maybe I'll be extravagant and wasteful with those two hours.

cereal

If I could go back and retake this picture I'd put my legs together and spread them out in front of me. Might have been a bit more flattering. But the fact that I was even sitting on a curb was impressive enough and I do like how happy we all are in this shot! 

I wrote earlier this month of how I was done with carbs and grains and sugars again, and as a result got rid of all of the cereal in the house. In a hilarious twist, when Rory asked Elsie what she would like to buy with her earned quarters she proclaimed, "Cereal!" We laughed so hard. And when they came back from Target she proudly showed me her Strawberry Special K cereal that "has strawberries in it!!!"

When she got her cereal, Rory picked up a few boxes for himself, and just like that, cereal is back in our house.

I haven't had a bowl though. I'm good with my smoothies and eggs.

Actually, that was true until last night when Elsie woke up upset about something at 1:30. She was inconsolable, out of her mind, and Rory finally got her back down around 2. I could hear him clearing his throat for about an hour and finally a little after 3:00 he came downstairs and we started talking like it was the middle of the day. I followed him into the kitchen where he poured himself a big bowl of honey nut cheerios.

At first I was just going to watch him eat his bowl. But then we started talking about Hillary Clinton. And I decided to pour myself a bowl. Then we talked about Donald Trump. And poured myself another bowl. We kept eating cereal and talking about our crazy world and it was so awesome. We were equally frustrated and concerned that we were not getting any good sleep, but what are you going to do? Eat cereal. And talk politics.

There are lots of parts of marriage and romance that are hard to capture. The beauty of steadfastness, the gift of healing time, the quiet comfort of knowing each other well. Those themes don't really make their way into many movies or novels, but they're the very best parts. And now I'd add middle-of-the-night conversations to the list. Hard to explain why this moment was so sweet and romantic with two exhausted parents loading up on carbs at 3 in the morning. But we both commented the next morning how great of a night it was.

And cereal has never tasted so good in all of my life.

a secret of the universe: toy organization

I am about to totally brag. And if it bothers you, I apologize. But I have unlocked a secret in toy organization that I wish I had figured out four years ago. Instead I have been stepping on toys in the middle of the night for almost five years, and wondering how on earth we could tame this mess of duplos, puzzle pieces, doll house toys, thomas trains, blocks, kinex, lincoln logs and game board pieces. But I have done it! And I want to tell you how.

It should also be noted that our farm house doesn't have a livable basement (it's limestone from the 1890's) or a play room. If we had a separate room for toys we might have a different system. But because our bedrooms are our playrooms, we had to figure something out.

I know I've already shared the toy organization I implemented three weeks ago (there is a picture in that post). But I just have to say it a little clearer, because it has changed our lives. OUR VERY LIVES!!! It began with a weekend of throwing and giving a lot away, sorting like items into storage bins, and labeling every container. (The labeling has been a nice feature for babysitters or cousins so they can help with the clean up too.)

But now, this is how it actually plays out in our day-to-day:

First, the toys are up high. They are in the kids' closet, which is the only closet in our home. No kidding. But the kids can't reach them and this is key. Any toys that are accessible are going to be scattered on the floor, so none are accessible. (Except their books, which they are suddenly very interested in, as there are no other choices! Awesome!) This even means the food that goes with the play kitchen is out of reach. And the marbles that go with the marble run. Everything is inaccessible.

Second, each kid can choose three items for Quiet Play Time. Each day after lunch (usually around 1:00) both kids go to different rooms to play for 90 minutes. 60 minutes alone and then 30 minutes together. Ivar has his own timer that he sets and takes this job very seriously. And each day they can select new toys. I think what this changes is that they are focused on only three choices to play with. And they play for so much longer! When all toys were out and accessible I think they were overwhelmed with what to do with their time. Or the room was so messy, nothing looked fun at all. But on their clean floor those three choices are very clear and suddenly they play hard. Sometimes longer than the 90 minutes!

Thirdly, clean up is obvious. They know exactly where to put their toys when it's time to clean up. Sometimes we pick up right after Quiet Play Time, other times just before bedtime. But they know they have to have their three items picked up, and know right where to put the items.

And forth...I really know what my kids like to play with. And what they have no interest in, at this time. This is helpful for Ivar's birthday gifts...he loves kinex and looking at the booklet to copy a creature they have pictured. He is so proud. I think he has graduated from duplos, but he is definitely on to Legos. He spent much of Labor Day at Mimi and Papa's building houses and buildings and just picked out a step-by-step Lego book at the library.

All in all, it is a bit more facilitating on my part. I have to be up there to get toys up and down. But three weeks in, and I haven't had to pick up a single toy! Not one! Mothers of the world, I have cracked the code. And it might sound rigid or strict, but somehow these boundaries have brought order to our chaos and fun back to our playtime. My kids love it as much as Rory and I do. It might work for you too.

38 weeks

I have a goal this weekend to get a decent picture of me at 38 weeks pregnant. Until then, I'll let you gaze at the soybeans in the field behind our house that are turning bright yellow right before our eyes.

My friend Shannon told me right when we got pregnant with this baby that the best thing she did when she was pregnant with her last baby was have professional house cleaners come and deep clean her home just before her due date. Largely because at 9 months pregnant you're not really scrubbing your bathtub anymore (...or ever), but also because after the baby you don't have to stare at all the dust and dirt while enjoying your new babe. So we did that yesterday and I think my house is

cleaner today than the day we moved in. Best decision ever. Tuck this little wisdom away for when you have a baby or your sister/daughter/friend has one...

Elsie got a cold last week and it has worked its way through our whole family. We've burned through an insane amount of kleenex at this house, but I think we are on the upswing. At least I really hope we are.

I got an email from The Baby Center today telling me that at 38 weeks my baby is the size of a leek. I hope not. I think they take their measurements based on the length of the vegetable, but a leek just seems too scrawny to be accurately associated with the seven pound babe inside of me. 

On Saturday night I ended up going grocery shopping by myself at the last minute. The plan was for the family to go, but we had car trouble, so I jumped in the truck to do it on my own. I hadn't fully thought through how tired I was to do a full week's worth of grocery shopping and by the end I was exhausted. I was walking from the last aisle to the check out lines at a very slow swagger when a very elderly man came out from his aisle, pushing his cart, to walk towards the same check out line. We were neck and neck. We walked with the same fatigued posture and he smiled big at me.  We had a sweet and unspoken, though very bonding, moment. Then he turned into lane 7 and I went to lane 5. 

The kids are doing awesome and start preschool next week. I have them in for two mornings a week, in the same class, and we are all very excited. They can't wait to bring their backpacks to hang on their hooks and I can't wait to have some consistent, undivided time with the new baby. I have started calling them my velcro. They must sense all the change that is to come, but I cannot leave a room without two bodies physically finding their way to be as close to me as possible. Lots of cuddles and snuggles are needed lately and it is very sweet. (and I'm back to edit that word a bit...sometimes smothering. It's sweet when I'm thinking about it. It's smothering when I'm living it...)

At our midwives appointment this week Elsie asked if the midwives would listen to her baby too. So when I was done, she crawled up on the table and they listened for her baby and let her listen. Ivar was quite sure someone needed to tell Elsie that she does not actually have a baby in her, but Rory was quick to quiet him so she could have her special time. She told the midwives proudly, "only girls have babies." 

picture bunting

We moved into this house three years ago, and since then I have hung zero photographs. We have some canvas art, but most of our walls have been left bare waiting for us to enlarge pictures on canvas or purchase frames for a collage. For some reason these tasks always feel daunting (and expensive!) and the can continues to be kicked down the road.

We still have hopes of making barn wood picture frames for a big wall collage, but it will be a while before that project is tackled. Yet we have these awesome pictures, waiting to be seen and enjoyed and remembered.

So this weekend I printed out 75 of our families best. And then I taped them to a piece of lace and hung lots of photo garland around our sunny room. And for under ten dollars the number of family pictures displayed in our home went from zero to about 50. Just like that.

I love it so much. It looks so festive. Ivar asked me if I was decorating for a birthday party. And I believe I was doing just that. Decorating for the Birth Day coming up at the end of the month. Little-baby-to-be got a special bunting all its own.

a country lemonade stand

Ivar has been asking for chores lately, trying to earn quarters. He has his eyes on Mack, the truck from the movie Cars that carries Lightening McQueen across the country to his races. We told him he could wait until his birthday, or try to earn the money to buy Mack on his own. So he has been working hard. If he checks for eggs each day for a week he gets a quarter. If he helps me unload the dishwasher he can sometimes earn a quarter. We try to come up with good tasks and he has been very helpful.

Earlier this week, Ivar was lamenting how long it was going to take him to get Mack and then Rory explained another way to earn quarters. "Ivar. There is another way to earn money. You offer something that someone else wants to buy. You work hard to make something and someone else will give you their quarters and you give them the thing you made."

Rory explained the concept of a lemonade stand, and when I came home that night they proudly showed me the sign they had worked so hard on.

Can you see the joy on this boy's face?!! He was so, so proud! Rory was teaching him what to say when the neighbors came. For each person he proudly said, "How can I help you? One dollar will give you two cookies and one cup of lemonade." Rory showed him how to give them their lemonade and cookies first, and then to take their quarters. And then to thank them for buying his lemonade. It was so, so awesome. And Ivar was a very good salesman.

The funny thing about having a lemonade stand in the country is that we rarely have cars drive by! So last night I emailed our neighbors telling them that we would be selling lemonade and cookies from 6-7pm. I wrote that Ivar was working towards purchasing a truck to hold his favorite cars and we'd love to see them.

As a result, the turnout was great. Lots of neighbors came at the same time and it turned into a little catch up for everyone. And we loved that it was just an hour. It was super muggy and our kids' interest was about an hour in length anyway. Ivar worked hard, Elsie ate a lot of cookies and I fielded lots of questions about being 37 weeks pregnant. (Check out the side profile of me below!)

It was only right before bedtime that Rory helped Ivar count his money and found that, combined with the money he had already earned through chores, he had enough money to buy Mack and to tithe on his earnings. Everyone was very, very pleased. And Ivar didn't fall asleep until 10:15.